View allAll Photos Tagged Existence
au lieu de meditation - fall in sleep,
reality, event of daily fret exhausting
mind, despite refreshing Time of all
illusions as former subject shifted into
darkness & in Mind embracing
weight of gravity invoked by singing Bird
in distant Forest, surviving snow & fallen
frost instead refreshing warmth & light,
from printed travel catalog & charm
as bliss of ticket visit paradise, et-cetera,
defined by syntax of hyperbola,
alliterations, linguistic luster to induce
means-sounds, deepest feel of heat from
intermezzo, as blanket covering orchestral
drums of strings trough pause & brightness
of racing fugues construing dreams, & fully
reconstructing mean-content of every single
frame, & images by notes presumed as Opera,
but in reality - composing mythological
cascade exciting deeply seated vibes
& visions reverberated in vertebrae,
& tearing over-working eyes, & skin as
memory of frosted bites of Winds beneath
tactile receptors, around frontal lobes
squished in manner a-la beret, exactly tight
denoting Galea aponeurotica domain,
ascending & cascading by whispered
overtures, librettos signed by Donizetti's
hand & slide of curtain, & stream of
thunder bolts ignited by First Concerto ,
among temptation to join illusions of
of Eighteenth Century, or Summer
Garden before sunset. Alas.
The physics of theatrical affection mixed
with nonsense-dream - traditional conflict
& never be resolved by any of nocturne
phantoms of morphing sound & humongous
depth of Grande royale, with influx
by emotional express along duality off
Time-&-Space transcended journey...
Consider sum mistaken artifacts as
painting by invisible pigment on cortical
activity - habitual effect production
during rest, been equal to apical aspect
delineating conscious existence of
deepest structures of the brain,
by echoing accords from long existed
Opera to your perception, et-cetera,
from sensual conflict between
space-boundary of scripted partytura,
its rhythms, symbols, pitches - sketch to
replicate entire Universe from bare print,
or simply mediate desired instrument's
claviature (by fingers!) revives graphism
of every Key to utterly convey Ideals,
or - singularity linguistic means through
Alter ego, while Human's brain
securing past & its mnemonic chain
revitalizing sense & shaping source
of own will, intrinsically will powered
to revive reflections scattered by
memento, crux of incidents, & words,
& scenes, & shadows dispersing
uniformly as Time dissolved in past,
but causing active and plasticity relay
distinctive marks stored by neuron(s),
as posted date from old postcard -
Almighty dedicated gift to us, enjoy,
as scientific matrix for Homo
Sapience, Almighty's grant,
enjoy this matrix upon blizzard, &
snow, Almighty's gift & sense of
fact manipulating sum of sensory
aspects from April, August's turning
ticking clocks as fragmentation and
essence of floral pollen, dust, feathers
and flock of memories of folios in
tangible grotesque ignoring frame
of references paralleled with pain &
pirouettes of Light projected & sharp
defining fractured dreams, attempts
sustaining entropy & Times re-counting
forgotten letters without stamps
to sent to nest of birds from every
Sunrise in trenches shelled by
clouds of shrapneling blasts, within
brutality attacks at battle-field
of dawn, as charts from Books, or
picturesque booklet in sharp touché
far from above its foggy distance
leveled by lumen-less horizon -
chaotic line adjoined by fallen bodies
of dying soldiers, & ricocheting sound
to capital from shady bridges walking
steps to Opera, & Odeon, & cozy
Comédie-Française defined by prose
unfinished by certain writer, French
by name, by utter chronicle recording
dim & faint collapsing fragrances
as spectral paint depicted
sounds, bells, & fly of pigeons at
Abbey of Saint-Germain-des-Prés,
sum fading colors, days & nights
suspended in refuge of frost &
blaze of sealed & tightened space,
in his Paris, its suffering refuge
& naked reality before his eyes,
all veiled by allergy's of iron clad
from every paroxysmal breath
in siege of windows clogged & doors
against attack by pollen: as if acacia,
jasmine, lilacs erupted not a bliss &
calm, but waves of burning harm
to suffocate & causing tremor,
& flickering accords by vocal cords
projecting images of mind to
palpitation of inquest in pages
analyzing love by convoluted
manuscripts, as if vocabulary
permeated floral warmth,
or substance of perfumes,
or causes, reflecting essence of
streaming Life, by scripting
memories, artistic search
elaborating prose by prosody
of fluid Time...
The photo were taken at Labuan Shipyard & Engineering.
Labuan Shipyard & Engineering Sdn Bhd (LSE), a subsidiary of Realmild (M) Sdn Bhd, was incorporated on 26 September 2005, the yard itself had been in existence since 1972 and had built up an extensive and proven track record in oil and gas engineering and fabrication, shipbuilding, ship repair and construction of power barges.
It is capable of handling ships up to 16,000 deadweight tons with the capability of further expansion to take vessels of more than 20,000 tonnes deadweight. It sited on 30-hectare of land within the port of Victoria Harbour on Labuan Island, the shipyard is blessed with deep-water access, shelter from prevailing monsoons, strategic geographical location and free port status.
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After trying the HDR and DRI.. now.. I was thinking of HDRi.. but, is it correct? I've google the word of "HDRi" but found nothing regarding HDR + DRI, anyway, kindly advise me if I'm wrong.
This is the last day for this vessel in dry-docking, with a mountain of jobs to do, I was unable to bring along my camera+tripod to the work-site during dry-docking. Sigh.
I merged a 3 diff. exposure into HDR using Photoshop cs5 and then removed the overcooked part by blending it with -1ev and 0ev.
(06/04/2012 at 9:50AM, Labuan Shipyard)
(ts-e 24mm, ranging from 1/640-1/40 of a second, each exposure at f/11 and ISO 100, 3 bracketed exposures, tripod mounted)
Two works by Bruno Walpoth
In the XIX century, Jacob Burckhardt was calling Bellini’s altarpieces
Existenzbilder, “pictures of existence”, and the first thing that stands
out when looking at the works of Bruno Walpoth is their pure and
sufficient “existence”. However, this strong presence is wrapped and
isolated by empty spaces, detached from any context and without
any attributes that qualify its identity.
They are figures of the absolute, carved in lime, apple or walnut
wood, in which elegance and solidity are features with which the
sculptor measures the harmony between naturalism and invention.
The agreement is between “no motion” gestures and the absence of
manifest feelings. The eyes of the molded figures stare at a distant
point and rarely meet those of the spectator. Since the eyes are
detectors of emotions, if the contact with the other is almost denied,
the statues become distant, absorbed in their existence, swallowed
up by their thoughts.
This monumental fixity has ancient origins, it takes us back to the
Roman statuary, also paying homage to the fifteenth-century
tradition, especially the manner of Piero della Francesca. Likewise,
the humanity that Bruno Walpoth examines and creates, diversified
in poses, colors and patterns, always represents the same “ideal
greatness” of those who, corroded by doubt, oscillate between the
search for the good and the attraction towards evil.
Rabbi Nachman of Bratislava said: “The world makes two mistakes:
the first one consists in thinking that a great man can do no wrong,
and the second one is believing that when a great man makes a
mistake he ceases to be great.”
Walpoth instills in his sculptures this complacent awareness of being
caged in the dilemma preceding the right action to take and therefore
they do not perform any action. Nevertheless, the ability of the
sculptor in calibrating the synthesis of bodies and his attention to
detail lead the viewer to capture and essentially transcend the
physical and material aspects, and any expressiveness or limb
movement is no longer needed to determine its meaning.
The thin irregular touches of white enrich the wood tissue preventing
immobility of light on volumes, while the shades of the hair or little
clothing enliven the figures with visual and tactile values, but without
affecting the solemn guise or that sense of magic and silence that
embody the art of Bruno Walpoth, being its wonderful constant
PLUS
A work by Amber Sena
It is as if the work of Amber Sena wanted to resist the temptation
of indifference that often characterizes the contemporary forms,
and where the issue of proximity, of urgency as regards to
instances precisely related to the environment and to the human,
emerges as an edge of the modern. The work of Sena deals with
one of the capital issues of our time, and not only in the name of
defense of animals. The artist focuses on the traces of a sense
that perhaps can snatch us from such indifference, stating the
responsibility of art, once again called to participate in a present
we should take charge of.
Nightwatch, the Chased into the Dark series, Nightingale represent
the enigma, and a question not asking for an answer. The size of the
work implies that narrative impose itself, beyond artistic classification,
as an unavoidable need to think about what one does not want to
see. We are both attracted and repelled, we curiously approach, and
the work stands before us in the form of a vision questioning the
human and the subjectivity. First and last issue.
The story is therefore tripartite. South Africa, at nightfall the moaning
of a wounded rhinoceros breaks the silence of plains. The cub, near the
body of a dying mother, sees his destiny fulfilled and added to a tragic
statistic. As a solitary mountain in the moonlight, the silhouette of the
animal is witness to danger and extinction. The slaughtered head of
the rhinoceros cannot be thrown back without carrying the task of art
itself. As in the chorus of the ancient tragedy, the dull and demanding
roar of the animal vibrates, voice of that witness. In such voice, the
story of Amber Sena goes beyond the inhuman silence of death.
The notion of surface is also central in the work of the artist. On it,
the issues of time are engraved. The acrylic paint, polished, glazed,
vivid, protects the reflection of an opaque and detailed reality. Mirror
of depth, it is a film that has no thickness, but that only opens the
space of thought. And the Ark is not empty: in it, Sena’s maze of
cracks and scales, map of existences that risk being deleted, in the
hands of human will, slave of its own time, that acts according to the
sad logic of sale and commodity.
As regards the existence, never before it has been exposed to death
and destruction. Yet Sena’s accuracy and gestural density condense a
reflection about the indomitable proximity of the human to this dying
world. The animal, in fact, is a symbol of impotence, of inability to
communicate and insufficiency of words.
If originally the sense of community was based on sharing the
experience of the animal, sacrificed in the name of the higher
instance of the soul, now, today, the world seems to have given up
on such responsibility, insensitive in front of a complex and
problematic reality. For this reason, Sena’s space is an invitation to
approach, trail and hope for a more aware existence. That is what
we should answer for, to ourselves, to the others. And from such
trail we should start again
When I looked up and saw this lone, tiny tree along the cliffs of Zion's Virgin Narrows I had to shake my head. It's incredible what living things will do to eek out an existence in the harshest of environments. The contrast of the bright yellow autumn foliage against the dark sandstone had me immediately reaching for my camera.
Handmade embroidery, original design -- based on having My Fair Lady's song lyrics "All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair" stuck in my head
Devi is not a divine soul which is worshiped by human being ..It is the existence of creative power within ourselves .
==================================================© All rights reserved According to CopyRight Law, Please don't copy, edit or use this image on websites, blogs or other media. However if you are interested in using any of my images, please feel free to contact with me .
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Photographer :-
© Sanhita Bhattacharjee
Kalyanpur,Tripura (India) .
Another one where the existence of 353 Vibrant Coral really helped!
Please excuse the minor dissonance of the figures being on Hoth while the mosaic depicts Cloud City. I wanted (and mostly achieved) consistency, but also wanted a single colour ground to strongly evoke a location. And for this one, I associate TESB with blue, which the clear sky of Hoth allowed me to incorporate.
I was originally going to attempt an establishing shot of Cloud City, but I'm really happy with how this more difficult (and pivotal) scene turned out.
Urquhart Castle, which lies close to Drumnadrochit, on the shores of Loch Ness.
Seized after Edward I's invasion of Scotland, it was reclaimed by Robert the Bruce in the 14th century. It was repeatedly attacked during the 15th and 16th centuries by the MacDonald Lords of the Isles, but nowadays enjoys a more peaceful existence under the curatorship of the National Trust for Scotland.
A monument dedicated to the comunism victims - detail - ROHIA monastery, MM
View the large size in order to see the efect
Falling in love with film. Here is my first attempt at double exposure photography.
Shot through this roll twice on my Nikon FG.
Shooting film beats a digital shot processed through photoshop everyday of the week!
(This is kind of blindly shot... There was about a week in between exposures, I wasn't totally sure what I was shooting "over".) There is no "spontaneous" photoshop filter, Film wins again.
also... we are looking for photos for our flickr group SortOfNatural just good shtuff
A Haiku Note:
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Strive to be happy
try not to be cynical
have strength of spirit
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The Eightfold Path describes the way to the end of suffering, as it was laid out by Siddhartha Gautama. It is a practical guideline to ethical and mental development with the goal of freeing the individual from attachments and delusions; and it finally leads to understanding the truth about all things. Together with the Four Noble Truths it constitutes the gist of Buddhism. Great emphasis is put on the practical aspect, because it is only through practice that one can attain a higher level of existence and finally reach Nirvana. The eight aspects of the path are not to be understood as a sequence of single steps, instead they are highly interdependent principles that have to be seen in relationship with each other.
1. Right View
Right view is the beginning and the end of the path, it simply means to see and to understand things as they really are and to realise the Four Noble Truths. As such, right view is the cognitive aspect of wisdom. It means to see things through, to grasp the impermanent and imperfect nature of worldly objects and ideas, and to understand the law of karma and karmic conditioning. Right view is not necessarily an intellectual capacity, just as wisdom is not just a matter of intelligence. Instead, right view is attained, sustained, and enhanced through all capacities of mind. It begins with the intuitive insight that all beings are subject to suffering and it ends with complete understanding of the true nature of all things. Since our view of the world forms our thoughts and our actions, right view yields right thoughts and right actions.
2. Right Intention
While right view refers to the cognitive aspect of wisdom, right intention refers to the volitional aspect, i.e. the kind of mental energy that controls our actions. Right intention can be described best as commitment to ethical and mental self-improvement. Buddha distinguishes three types of right intentions: 1. the intention of renunciation, which means resistance to the pull of desire, 2. the intention of good will, meaning resistance to feelings of anger and aversion, and 3. the intention of harmlessness, meaning not to think or act cruelly, violently, or aggressively, and to develop compassion.
3. Right Speech
Right speech is the first principle of ethical conduct in the eightfold path. Ethical conduct is viewed as a guideline to moral discipline, which supports the other principles of the path. This aspect is not self-sufficient, however, essential, because mental purification can only be achieved through the cultivation of ethical conduct. The importance of speech in the context of Buddhist ethics is obvious: words can break or save lives, make enemies or friends, start war or create peace. Buddha explained right speech as follows: 1. to abstain from false speech, especially not to tell deliberate lies and not to speak deceitfully, 2. to abstain from slanderous speech and not to use words maliciously against others, 3. to abstain from harsh words that offend or hurt others, and 4. to abstain from idle chatter that lacks purpose or depth. Positively phrased, this means to tell the truth, to speak friendly, warm, and gently and to talk only when necessary.
4. Right Action
The second ethical principle, right action, involves the body as natural means of expression, as it refers to deeds that involve bodily actions. Unwholesome actions lead to unsound states of mind, while wholesome actions lead to sound states of mind. Again, the principle is explained in terms of abstinence: right action means 1. to abstain from harming sentient beings, especially to abstain from taking life (including suicide) and doing harm intentionally or delinquently, 2. to abstain from taking what is not given, which includes stealing, robbery, fraud, deceitfulness, and dishonesty, and 3. to abstain from sexual misconduct. Positively formulated, right action means to act kindly and compassionately, to be honest, to respect the belongings of others, and to keep sexual relationships harmless to others. Further details regarding the concrete meaning of right action can be found in the Precepts.
5. Right Livelihood
Right livelihood means that one should earn one's living in a righteous way and that wealth should be gained legally and peacefully. The Buddha mentions four specific activities that harm other beings and that one should avoid for this reason: 1. dealing in weapons, 2. dealing in living beings (including raising animals for slaughter as well as slave trade and prostitution), 3. working in meat production and butchery, and 4. selling intoxicants and poisons, such as alcohol and drugs. Furthermore any other occupation that would violate the principles of right speech and right action should be avoided.
6. Right Effort
Right effort can be seen as a prerequisite for the other principles of the path. Without effort, which is in itself an act of will, nothing can be achieved, whereas misguided effort distracts the mind from its task, and confusion will be the consequence. Mental energy is the force behind right effort; it can occur in either wholesome or unwholesome states. The same type of energy that fuels desire, envy, aggression, and violence can on the other side fuel self-discipline, honesty, benevolence, and kindness. Right effort is detailed in four types of endeavours that rank in ascending order of perfection: 1. to prevent the arising of unarisen unwholesome states, 2. to abandon unwholesome states that have already arisen, 3. to arouse wholesome states that have not yet arisen, and 4. to maintain and perfect wholesome states already arisen.
7. Right Mindfulness
Right mindfulness is the controlled and perfected faculty of cognition. It is the mental ability to see things as they are, with clear consciousness. Usually, the cognitive process begins with an impression induced by perception, or by a thought, but then it does not stay with the mere impression. Instead, we almost always conceptualise sense impressions and thoughts immediately. We interpret them and set them in relation to other thoughts and experiences, which naturally go beyond the facticity of the original impression. The mind then posits concepts, joins concepts into constructs, and weaves those constructs into complex interpretative schemes. All this happens only half consciously, and as a result we often see things obscured. Right mindfulness is anchored in clear perception and it penetrates impressions without getting carried away. Right mindfulness enables us to be aware of the process of conceptualisation in a way that we actively observe and control the way our thoughts go. Buddha accounted for this as the four foundations of mindfulness: 1. contemplation of the body, 2. contemplation of feeling (repulsive, attractive, or neutral), 3. contemplation of the state of mind, and 4. contemplation of the phenomena.
8. Right Concentration
The eighth principle of the path, right concentration, refers to the development of a mental force that occurs in natural consciousness, although at a relatively low level of intensity, namely concentration. Concentration in this context is described as one-pointedness of mind, meaning a state where all mental faculties are unified and directed onto one particular object. Right concentration for the purpose of the eightfold path means wholesome concentration, i.e. concentration on wholesome thoughts and actions. The Buddhist method of choice to develop right concentration is through the practice of meditation. The meditating mind focuses on a selected object. It first directs itself onto it, then sustains concentration, and finally intensifies concentration step by step. Through this practice it becomes natural to apply elevated levels of concentration also in everyday situations.
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DESIDERATA
Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.
Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.
Be careful. Strive to be happy.
Max Ehrmann c.1927
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Live your life in happiness, even though those around you
live their lives in hatred and wish to spread their antipathy
to you. Be happiness itself. -:- Some Buddhist Philosophy
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“A disciplined mind brings happiness.” – Buddha
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Mirit Ben-Nun believes and feels that art is a vital and necessary function for human existence, it is what enriches the human race.
For Mirit it is her everyday language and her wish is that it reaches the one who observes her works of art and allows her to communicate her most positive aspects of creativity, worshiping the highest values of which humanity prides itself.
The artist is impregnated with the concept that there is no art without man, but perhaps neither is man without art. It is a kind of soul breathing.
Mirit Ben-Nun uses lines and points as an expressive resource and does so by exploiting nuances and associations to their fullest. Some forms follow the same direction and others change constantly, even urgently. Its language is visual and independent of its expressiveness; it lies in the value and organization of its elements.
The 'things' of the visual world are unimportant, the point is the achievement of reproduction of the world and human nature. Constantly encouraging creativity. In this case pointillism conveys emotions by the effect of using color, points, lines and thus capturing the attention of the observer.
Dora Woda
Sakharibazar, Old Dhaka, 2011
Normal people with extraordinary lifestyles
Along with smile and the gloomy, here life has its own rhyme, has its own colour.
Time passed by, humanity changed along with its history...
But these people remained here tolerating the hardest truth of existences
..........its their story of extraordinary existences.
Sakharibazar, Old Dhaka. A very interesting place for all of us to visit. Culture and customs of old Dhaka are the tribute to the ancient history of Bangladesh. Peoples still living in 100 years old building from generations after generations. With the reflection of their religious beauty Old Dhaka attracts peoples from here and abroad.
Shakhari Bazaar is one of the oldest mohallas (a traditional neighbourhood) in Puran Dhaka (Old Dhaka), located near the intersection of Islampur Road and Nawabpur Road;the two main arteries of the old city and only a block away from the Buriganga River. Shakhari Bazaar stretches along a narrow lane, lined with thin slices of richly decorated brick buildings, built during the late Mughal or Colonial period. Despite rampant modifications, accretion, extension over time, even redevelopment, many still bear the testimony of a rich tradition.
Shakhari Bazaar is the manifestation of the irrational policies, lack of adequate development control rules and distorted legal framework, all of which have left their indelible mark on this precious little mohalla that shares a long history of more than 400 years with Dhaka city itself.The history of Shakhari Bazaar goes back to the pre-Mughal days if not earlier. The first mention of Puran Dhaka can be found in the writings of Mirza Nathan, the general turned historian, who traveled with Subahdar Islam Khan. He mentioned Puran Dhaka, as the area between Dholai Khal and Buriganga river covering Shakhari Bazaar, Tanti Bazaar, Bangla Bazaar, Lakhsmi Bazaar, Bangla Bazaar, Kamar Nagar, Sutar Nagar, Goala Nagar, etc. Each mohalla belonged to separate communities depending on their craft and trade. The influences of the Mughal vocabulary in the planning of the spaces are literally evident in the use of Persian names to identify different spaces..
www.magd.ox.ac.uk/discover-magdalen/
To celebrate its 550th anniversary Magdalen College, Oxford has commissioned the Turner Prize-winning artist Mark Wallinger to create his first-ever dedicated permanent artwork.
Two years in development, the sculpture Y was unveiled on St Mary Magdalen Day 2008. William Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester founded Magdalen College in 1458. It is one of the best-known colleges in the University of Oxford and is known internationally for its high academic standing.
The College has many fine buildings. The Cloisters, Chapel, Founder’s Tower and Hall were built in the Gothic style in the later part of the 15th century. The Great Tower, a pictorial symbol of Oxford, is famous for the May Day event when the College choir sings an ancient hymn at dawn. The Georgian New Buildings, which blend into the College Gardens and grounds, were completed in 1733. The buildings sit amid a hundred acres of lawns, woodlands and riverside walks, which are publicly accessible, and there is a deer herd that has been in existence for over 300 years.
Addison’s Walk, named after the great essayist of the 18th century and father of English journalism, is about a mile in length and goes by the River Cherwell around a great water meadow. Beyond the end of Addison’s Walk is a tranquil field known as Bat Willow Meadow, which is where the new commission is sited. Maps of the grounds of Magdalen College are available from the Porters’ Lodge or they can be downloaded from the Magdalen website.
Over the past twenty years Mark Wallinger has established an international reputation with major solo exhibitions in London, Birmingham, Liverpool, Val-de-Marne, Frankfurt, Aarau, Basel, Milan, New York and Chicago.
His work encompasses a wide range of media, including painting, photography, sculpture, video and installation, and it takes art history, mythology, religion, politics, national identity and popular culture as its subject matter. Wallinger studied at Chelsea School of Art in 2001, and in Goldsmiths' College. He exhibited in Young British Artists II at the Saatchi Collection in 1993 and at the Royal Academy of Art's Sensation exhibition in 1997.
His Time and relative dimensions in space derived from a residency and was shown at Oxford University Museum of Natural History in 2001 and in the same year he represented Britain in the 49th Venice Biennale. The artist is best known for Ecce Homo, a life-size sculpture of Jesus Christ which inaugurated the Fourth Plinth in Trafalgar Square in 1999, and State Britain, his 2007 re-creation at Tate Britain of Brian Haw's protest display outside parliament. He was a Turner Prize nominee in 1995 and won the award in 2007, and he is one of five internationally acclaimed artists who have been commissioned to produce proposals for the Ebbsfleet Landmark Project, which will be one of the biggest artworks in the United Kingdom.
My heart sank a little once I heard the transmitted broadcast from Jericho; a disgraced, fallen agent--once a pilot. It turned out he was the one leaked the truths out, secrets untold. But this meant we would be attracting the banes of our existence, the Exiled Spectres—who have taken over this once rightful agency.
The more we encounter, the more destruction happens, as if the end looks closer than ever. We're right at the command center, the bastion of a climax.
From my brief imprisonment until my release just now, the revelations grew bigger. I witnessed the confrontation of men and women, their words like knives plunged towards each other. Actions speak louder than words.
North: “Let us in, and I will end your lives swiftly without ease, or just allow you to rot inside. Your choices, your fate. I promise, it will not be painful.”
Sabine: “The truth, the further it will bring your downfall. Choose wisely—either die or come out. Aunt Antonia, this was your choice, and you brought this upon yourself.”
Raze: “Do not leak a word! I...this is madness, North! You cannot...”
North: “Pity you were my half sister, Antonia. The only good things that come out is honesty, rather than your lies and deception. You could not even handle your niece...like her father, you were weak. Always. And when she was untamed, she came to me, and joined me.”
Raze: “You murdered our eldest brother because you sought power…killed those agents to grab a serum, you orchestrated from the lab explosions to Japan and nearly global event--”
North: “Triggering a chain reaction. Precisely. I was the better strategist. The plans were always in motion."
Raze: "I should have killed you when we were children. But I was were too late. Mother should have murdered you in childbirth."
North: "What else would I have done? I never liked any of you anyways--my siblings. I abhorred everyone, except for Sabine. You think you're not so different from me, Antonia? When you tried to build an army amongst your coven, lying to your own kind so you could harvest them one day…for the true purpose of rebelling me. That came very close to earning my respect, but it was just a little.”
Raze: "I'm doing what I'm doing."
North: "Maliciousness. Wonderful. That was the only greatest trait you ever had, and I liked it. But now...you're nothing."
I hear voice loud enough to seek through every wall. Weapons drew from both sides. Gamma, Avalon and the rest of the agency was there to stop the assault—so did the enemy.
But Mason Gardner was there. He was briefly re-energized, standing in his own suit. Last I remember he was knocked out, but how'd he get up so quick?
Mason: “…I will not let monsters decide who I am…I am one already…just like the rest. The rest of all recordings lie in my hands, and Paladin will go down as corrupt and immoral for the rest of history. I’m far from dead already…my body can no longer contain my powers. But I will make this worth your while.”
North: “The challenger arrives! How unexpected. Let us in, and I I will finish you.”
Mason: “We shall see through the net. Activate the doors, now.”
Upon his order, the doors quickly open, but not Gardner emits a green blast of energy through the glass panes. The direction hits towards the warlord’s direction, striking him behind a few blocks of walls. He was live bait, like a fish. Realizing their master was attacked, the Spectres reacted quickly, as they raised their guns at him, firing every shred of bullet. And so it continues.
Smoke wallowed away as North emerged unscathed, creating a black shield that engulfed him in the process. His armour was covered in grime and dust. He chuckled to himself before nodding to Sabine, who herself dashed towards Gardner, fiercely brimming with rage. Holding the lava axe, she attempted to create an opening, but her efforts stopped by Edens and Raze’s timely mind control, telekinetic powers kept her at bay. She was levitating in the air, struggling to break free. Meanwhile, the Arden brothers, Gary, Lyra, Kieran and Sam came dashing from the southeast corridor, and rushed to their aid. The moment they came, they quickly exchanged gunfire against the Spectres, killing a few.
Edens: “You were among the brightest, but you never succeeded. Intelligence and arrogance blinded you too far. You know your niece is just like another experiment. She means nothing to you.”
North: “As if. I pity you, Remus. If you were as sentimental like the rest, unlike Antonia, you were the closest to my equal…to control the superhuman race.”
Edens: “Control? No. This is not forsaken. I do it for humanity, and science. But that won't change anything this instance. We both know this damage cannot be undone, and I carry it for eternity—the namesake will fall beside me.”
North: “How the tides have turned since we first met. You place your guilt on yourself, thinking about atonement! That is incorrigible."
Edens: "Morality? We're both sinners, North. This makes no difference."
Having grown so impatient, North fires a blast of crackling black energy towards the professor. Edens…the scapegoat. Now the new target. Taking the fall. Is this heroic blame?
But North was a cunning fellow. He still many tricks in his sleeve—retaliating with white energy, projected from his mind, he blocked North's energy. For a brief minute, both Paladin and the Spectres paused their infighting during the ensuing struggle. Amusement and surprise from many faces. But it was battle of indeed. If that is so, then Edens and North must have been classmates in the past, like Raze as well. The scientist connection of developing superhumans confirms my theory now. The first batch of experiments before it became a global thing of the future.
Mason: “No! Don’t do this! You'll die too, Remus!”
Edens: “You can still be saved, Mason. Go and help the others. This is where it ends; the project and the plans. Everything must go down. I'm sorry, but this is why I cannot forgive myself!”
Mason: “You can’t atone for the crimes of the board alone! I know you've done a lot of things, but you have to turn Raze in as well!”
Edens: "You are already doing it. Achieving what is meant to be."
After his giant blast, Gardner realizes he's already used up so much power. He is in his absolute weakened state, struggling so much that he could die any minute. But he didn't care. He simply picked himself up among the chaos, his face battered, his nose bleeding. An absolute mess, like he was gonna melt too. I immediately do a quick scan in my eyes, and my readings show his life vitals are dropping too fast. Sam pounces over on my side, trying reach over to Gardner but I stop him. I give a quick nod to him, and briefly inform with Avalon and Gamma teams on the comms. Realizing there is no time and no choice left, the teams agree in unison as they continue fighting together alongside the Paladin agents.
Remus starts to lose control as North’s power starts overpowering the latter, his right arm starting to build up more black energy. The effort is strong enough for Remus to resist, as the clash looks like is about to end. Until Gardner limps in front of his mentor, channelling his own powers. He is struck as Gardner is taking hit after hit, which I realize...are killing his organs. Shit.
Edens: “Mason, what are you doing, get off!”
Mason: “Doing what needs to be done. I have barely enough minutes to save everyone…everything I want and need to hear… I’m sorry, Remus…”
And in the engulfing explosion, I black out, and everyone is spread across the giant command center.
***
I wake up in rubbles, as electricity and clutter are all mixed together. The destruction has exposed me to the air. I do another quick scan, the environments are basically nothing more than scrap.
Within the next instant, I can feel my shoulders and back being really painful, probably hitting a wall or something. The other heroes rise up slowly, but I can tell they are hurt. In my peripheral state, I can see Riley, Harry, Tyrone and Erin approaching their fallen comrades. Kieran’s arm is hurt bad, and so is Lyra, who is regenerating slowly, Sam is probably hurt too. Seems like the two teams are injured, but fine. That is a relief.
Despite my wounds, I keep scanning for to see anyone else still alive, with many Spectres laying dead on the floor, and maybe half of Paladin agents also gone—but North or Sabine are nowhere to be seen. My heart races faster, but I have to stay calm and focus. "Come on old man", I mutter to myself. And close to the window’s edge outside, there was a badly charred Mason Gardner, lying down on a bed of stones. He is bleeding badly, his suit damaged and his body is burnt from severe burns.
Mason: “Hhhh…where...is everyone...anyone? Anyone?!”
Kurt: “We’re here. We’re all here.”
Mason: “Edens?”
Kurt: “He’s right over there….yeah, behind me.”
Edens: “Mason. Mason, look at me.”
Mason: “I…I feel so in pain…but now it feels free…our secrets are all out. I can go rest peacefully now…here, a recording. Let everyone know my final will…”
Edens: “Wait—what if I could transfer your consciousness? It could save your life! Mason, please, don't..."
Both Gamma and Avalon members stood behind both of us, except Harry, who was nowhere to be seen. I swear he was there a moment ago, but he left so abruptly. But amidst the mess, everyone was staring at their friend, drowned in sorrow. Tyrone hugs Erin, Connor and Jesse help the injured Kieran on his shoulders, while Gary helps Riley stay still. Lyra begins to sob in Sam's shoulders.
Mason: “What’s worth if I could stay longer and assist her? Yvette…my sister…is a grown woman already…*cough*…she can figure herself out…I want her to continue my legacy anyway…she is the last true successor of…of the Gardner family.”
Edens: “But your life, it can be valuable…”
Mason: “You’re valuable. All…my friends here…are valuable….”
Edens: “I can still save you, please hang on to me!”
Mason: “Not it’s not, Remus. You can’t…I, I know everyone tried, every medicine I’ve taken…it worn save me. I knew this…from day one. They all endorsed, supported…me…but I’m not even fit to run for mayor. *Chokes* I'm so tired. But...I need you need to tell my sister….I love her…and I...I love you all…”
“Please take care of her for me.”
And he breathed one last time, with a tear rolling down his face, his visor broken.
On a Friday night, Mason Gardner died approximately around 2:30 A.M.
***
“We have reports that a explosion happened at a building today…sources confirmed that it was an agency’s building, known as Paladin. They have been hiding in secret…”
“Multiple leaks detailing the agency’s shady activities have been released, as the moon evacuation was a hoax, people are to be sent home while local authors take a deeper investigation as Antonia Raze, the chairperson of the agency, is being under arrest for breaching rules…”
“Mason Gardner dies at 38, in an attempt to release confidential info of his association and involvement with the agency, but did not leak names except files of the high ranking board. The CIA and various authorities are looking at it. Business partners have dropped out after alliances were revealed to be...”
News. Media. They’re everywhere. We’re in the open now, exposed, aware to the world. There is too much to undo, given how much we were independent in the first place. A supposedly neutral ground catering to the highest bastion, to oversee those with powers and undertaking missions that involved superhumans/superpowers. That was the mantra. A piece of the rulebook that everyone should have known.
But regardless of the aftermath, there was always consequences—North was right. He wanted to usurp power but it turned out to be the Paladin itself, an agency of chaos. The conflicts bred violence, as people would riot on the streets, on a larger scale. The world had turned itself into fear, succumbing to the worst in technology. In time, agents of Paladin left, disillusioned with secrets, while some stayed. The uprising against superhumans was true, exposed to a new light.
Was it going to be the end of Paladin?
I don't know.
A creative person has little power over his own life. He is not free. He is captive and driven by his daimon.
Words by Carl Jung
[for Plato, daimon, is a spiritual being who watches over each individual, and is tantamount to his higher self, or an angel]
♫ - The Gift of Sight - Peter Gundry
for Flickriver - Sophie Shapiro
.
The revenge upon her would be sweet, even though it was purely theoretical.
She was the very epitome of every stuck up girl who ever passed judgment on those she refused to view as an equal. And I? I possessed the subtle skill to knock her smirking ego down a few pegs.
**********************************************************************
In late spring of the year 1952, a, bank rented safety deposit lockbox, dusty from many years gone by, was opened. The box had laid unclaimed, the banks records having been destroyed during the Nazi blitzes of World War Two. When its existence became known, an attempt was made to contact the owner, whose family surname was well known in the county. The name turned out to be an alias, no such person ever existed.
Please read the account below to learn more about the person who was believed to have rented the strongbox, as well as what he had placed inside……….
**********
Case Study 84 :
Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual facts as originally recorded. Some names, times, places and some facts have been altered for obvious reasons.
Exerted from the private letters of Mr. Harley Q. circa early 1900’s.
Name: Harly Q. circa 19 …
Subject: Seemingly a rather dexterous scoundrel
Place: A large coastal metropolis
Time: A period of time in late autumn
**************
Harly’s story as related:
The following affair occurred during my younger days when my youth and its’ raw passions were still a strong pull on my reactions! Now, how do I start?
The Blonde dancing in front of me was was dressed up like a movie star on a red carpet. Only about nineteen, her slinky gown created the impression of having been poured along her curvy, voluptuous figure, like shimmering liquid satin, fluidly swishing as she swirled about the massive chamber! It all made her appear far older and mature than she obviously thought she was. For some, her looks and personality may have been seen as charming and fun. “But for me personally, the only thing charming about her was the way her abundant sparkling jewellery played with the lights from the large chandeliers which held my upmost command!
But wait, I may be placing the carriage before the steed…….
Allow me to restart:
I had taken a long train into town with the intention of spending a few days relaxing from my previous month of hectic “professional” affairs. Rewarding myself, I located my lodging in a fancy upscale hotel situated across the street from a cavernous Ballroom, checking in for a fortnight. Since my social calendar was unusually light, with only the one high society event, a wedding that I was planning to attend the following Sabbath, at a “chapel” located in one of the cities sprawling suburbs. I spent the first day perusing the cultural calendar of the local papers, and ended up circling one or two events of interest that would be taking place later that month. I than took care of my remaining personal business, locating a reputable bank and renting out one of their lockboxes, before allowing myself some time off from my endeavors.
I than spent the first portion of my week taking in moving picture shows, visiting stores and hanging out at the local museums and antique shoppes. It felt great not worrying about work, although I will did admit that my mind scoped out a few prospects as I was out and about, walking amongst the great masses..
It was mid-week during my stay, while making my way back to the hotel suite, that I decided on a whim to pop into the Ballroom to see what it was all about. I walked into the massive lobby full of activity and wandered about, looking into the massive main ballroom, meeting rooms and various party rooms. As I was leaving I discovered a wall containing posters for all the upcoming events. One poster caught my eye. It advertised the occurrence of a Halloween Ball to take place that very weekend, Tickets still available. The Ball seemed to be the very type of party I was partial to, combining all of my favorite types of affairs, a large gathering frequented by the rich, and everyone attending would be in costume.
Purchasing a pair of tickets (less questions asked) I went out the very next morning scouting various shops in search of my own costume. I finally settled on a highwayman’s attire. It seemed appropriate, and the ribbon style “ masque” over my eyes set off the vacation beard that had been growing quite nicely since my last outing. On my way out to pay for the costume I spied a half off bin. On top of the pile was a phantom of the opera mask. On impulse I added it to my bundle and went to the checkout.
Although I really didn’t have the feeling that this concern would lead to anything, I mean, who wears good jewellery with a costume ? But a little bored by the inactivity, I was none the less growing excited about the venture. I still decided to play it cautious by setting up my usual safe guards, just in case.
A few blocks away from the Ballroom and my hotel suite I found a small chain style motel. Going to the desk I purchased rent for a room for the night, paying in advance. Going into the small room I laid down my purchases and headed back out to the street via a back stairwell, bypassing the registrars chambers. I headed back to my hotel suite to prepare for the evening.
After showering, I changed into a suit, shirt and tie. I then headed out onto the street a couple of hours before the ball was set to begin. Regaining my small quarters in the chain motel I changed into my new persona for the evening’s festivities and left via the same back door I had used earlier. I walked back to the Ballroom, getting my share of looks until I reached my destination, where I blended right in with the other arriving costumed guests.
I followed the stream to the ballroom proper. The main doors leading inside were large, made of a fancy scrolled oak, held open, and guarded by a pair of burly security types.
Apparently which, I soon gathered, was appearing to be the only security present for the evening’s festivities. Capital, I thought, smirking to myself as I joined my fellow guests.
I walk onto a landing, immediately in front of a long bannister guarding a set of wide stairs ascended downwards. I went off to one side, and paused at the railing, starting to survey with eager anticipation, the crowded room below.
All was quite glittering, as large chandeliers set off a spectrum of colors with any crystal or glass it touched. It especially created shimmers as it played off the colorful jewelry the lavishly costumed ladies present were wearing. Several dozen couples were dancing in front of a 17 piece orchestra, a slow dance, and many were dancing almost too close. Many more people were mingling around tables of appetizers. A large, chattering crowd was also gathered at the long oak bar that took up one whole side of the huge room. It was to the bar that I headed, to observe the merry proceedings.
But the Ball, as it turned out, was a bust, so to speak. Although several attempts were made to ask a number of charming (to me) ladies to add me to their dance cards, they all were, unfortunately, full. I should have suspected it would turn out this way, but I still harbored an all too familiar nagging feeling in the back of my head that something was still going to happen, call it intuition if you need to label it. So I nursed my drink, reminiscing about how I had reached this point in my then still young life…..
Ralph Waldo Emerson, one of my favorite poets, once said” Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”
Long before the the time I discovered this quote I found that my life’s path had already been heading that way.
Without boring anyone with far too many details of my rather complicated youth, I discovered while quite young that I had a certain knack for adeptness at being able to nimbly pick pockets. When I was eighteen ( having graduated high school at seventeen) and out on my own in the world, I found this skill quite useful. But it was at a wedding reception in my early twenties where I became of age, so to speak.
She was older than me, resplendent in a sleek black satin gown with bright white frills, long white satin gloves upon which graced a pair of diamond bracelets. She was very tipsy and would not take no for an answer when asking for a dance partner. She cornered me and before I could catch my wits, we were in a close embrace on the dance floor. I was totally mesmerized by the feel of her warm figure emitting through the sensuous satin gown. My eyes feasted upon the dazzling show put on by her flashy twin bracelets. When the exquisitely long dance ended and she moved on: I was left with a lot of pleasantly mixed feelings, I was also left with my first trophy, the Lady’s appealing necklace of pearl that I had ever so delicately sipped off her throat, using the sleekness of her satin gown to its fullest advantage.
I found myself enthralled with my new “hobby”, and over the course of the next couple of years sought out fancy dress affairs to better learn how to master the art of attracting and dancing with any lady I chose. Along the way I managed to accumulate quite a few trophies for my efforts. I stayed under everyone’s radar by picking out only those females who had been enthusiastically imbibing and by allowing myself to acquire only one trophy per gathering, two if the function was large enough.
During this period I made two discoveries: One was that most women would rather assume their jewel had been merely lost long before ever considering that they had been robbed of it. The second was that most of my collection of pretty trophies carried an equally pretty price, and could quite acceptably be turned into ready cash.
So, by the tender age of twenty two, my life started to lead where there had ever been but few tracks. And thus we finally come to this particular branch of my rather unique, lengthily crooked trail….
So, there I was, on a bar stool, alone and growing more bored by the minute, wishing something interesting would happen. I can remember thinking, as I looked over my fellow partiers about a saying that I had always found to be amusingly true. “If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to.” I don’t know who first said it, but brother, the person was right on the money. As I had witnessed for myself time and time again. So I just settled in and watched the amusing antics of the wealthy among the crowd, especially those of …“the girl!’
The girl was a stunning young blonde who was probably just fresh out of high school, with the maturity level of a grade schooler!
I kept catching my eye on her all evening, and once or twice, was sure she caught mine looking. But I was not watching her for the reasons she would think were mine. To her I was just some male face in the crowd, exhibiting his lust. But, the reason my eyes kept traveling upon her was for an entirely different one. I just found nothing to be more annoying than a sulky, immature young whelp who believes she is the apple of everyone’s eye, making an absolute nuisance of herself. She was running around, making silly remarks about people, sometimes to their face. Hanging out with her group of friends whom seemed to be of the same mold as my blonde, one girlfriend was even dressed appropriately enough, as a willowy witch.
The Blonde was dressed up like a movie star on a red carpet. Only about nineteen, her slinky gown created the impression of having been poured along her curvy voluptuous figure, like shimmering liquid satin, fluidly swishing as she bounced about the massive chamber, slipping in and out amongst the guests! It all made her appear far older and mature than she obviously thought she was. For some, her looks and personality may have been seen as charming and fun. “But for me personally, the only thing charming about her was the way her abundant sparkling jewellery played with the lights from the large chandeliers which held my command! But I had decided, as far as I could tell, that she was wearing nothing but cheap rhinestones, which like her, appeared totally fake. But, as they say, appearances can sometimes be deceiving!
This girl was the epitome of every condescending stuck up high society girl that probably everyone has had the misfortune to be the victim of. The girl, who mainly because of her looks, was popular with everyone like her, and had no use for those who, forever what reason they deemed, was ostracized by those of her type. In high school I knew girls like this one, and was a witness, sometime victim, to many a scene of arrogance displayed by girls like her. This one was young, too young to be acting the way she was. Her mannerisms were just a beacon, reaching out out to be taught a lesson.
Wallowing in my boredom, a spark began to kindle into flame deep within my brain. Determined not to let the evening be a total loss, I decided act upon it. My plan being to theoretically get revenge on all those smirking girls who tormented me during high school, by knocking this cocky little scamp down a few pegs, using the best of my abilities..
Now, I’m not one normally to act as judge, jury, and executioner in most situations, in my selected line of work it would be hypocritical. But obviously old wounds’ had been opened, this long haired girl scampering about reminded me of ones whom had ridiculed me, another lifetime, one that I had left behind A long time ago. The opportunity for bittersweet revenge had presented itself for the taking, and the pull to obtain a little solace by using my unique talents was far too great to resist. Talk about mixing pleasure with business I though wickedly to myself, smiling with the inviting thought.
Believe me, this girl would be no innocent victim, and nothing I was about to attempt would leave her with any type of lasting impression, or harm. But if I could cause her at least some considerable discomfort to ruin the rest of her evening out, it would be reward in and of itself! I again eyed her sparkling jewels with all the seriousness I would have given any I was really interested in acquiring. Although she didn’t fit my favorite pre-requisite, she certainly was not drunk on alcohol, she was merely just intoxicated in her own questionable self-esteem, which can work just as well.
I waited until her friends had all apparently deserted her for the evening and leaving her, quite vulnerably, alone. I walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. She whirled facing me, her eyes going from happy expectations to a glare! “What do you want!? she snipped disdainfully”. Calmly I held her gaze, “I was hoping you would help me win a bet” I asked in what I hoped was my most wily voice. She was curious, but wary of me, “as you should be my pretty miss”, I remember thinking to myself. Her eyes sized me up and down, and I seized the moment to take in her jewels, not at all disappointed in them, but my curiosity was aroused about her necklace, I definitely needed to get a closer look to appraise them! “Why should I help you,” she practically spitted out he words like daggers.
“It’s this way miss, a couple of boys over at the bar bet me 50 quid that I could not get a dance with the prettiest girl here.” “Me?” she asked primping, no I confessed, I picked you, they had wanted me to dance with someone far less pretty, in my opinion.
I don’t think so; she said with a slight hint of hesitation, my card is full. Just for fifteen minutes I implored. That’s all I need (which was the truth), and Ill split my winnings with you on top of it. She finally bought it, hook line, sinker and pound signs in her adorable violet coloured eyes. Fifteen minutes she specified, before, be-grudgingly, allowing me to lead her to the dance floor.
Now, as I took her stiff body in my arms, I was able to satisfy my curiosity about the girl’s necklace, and it caused a dilemma to rear its thought provoking head. While she was busy looking around to make sure none of her friends saw her dancing with me, I allowed myself a couple of precious minutes to think. Her long rhinestone earrings were clip held, and an easy pick. I wanted to try for them both,( I knew how I would do it), and losing a pair of earrings would send a message that they had not just fallen away. Also, I would be suspected by her, which suited me just fine. However, my dilemma was caused by the vixen’s pretty necklace. While the rest of her plentiful jewels were cheap rhinestones as I had suspected the row of diamonds that rippled blazingly around her throat were in fact, the real McCoy. So, which should I go for? The necklace would be profitable and easy but she may just suspect its clasp had broken. The earrings would be just for a sporty trophy, not worth anything but for the knowledge that she would know she had been a victim. Ah, life’s precious little quandaries!
So, I continued with the dance, my partner still rigid, so very true to her character. Then, with five minutes left, I made up my mind on what she would not be leaving the ball still wearing. She was a charmer, this disdainful one. Her stiff figure was warm to the touch, underneath the scintillating slippery gown. The show her sparkling jewels produced was most pleasing to the eye. All in all quite a pretty portrait, a shame it was that I was not allowed to appreciate it. Which was fine by me! I was able to concentrate freely on the task at hand. I looked around, the coast was still clear. Then eyeing for one last time her mesmerizingly swaying long earrings and the flickering diamonds that graced her pretty little throat, I executed my move..
By the time the final five minutes were up I had the selected jewelry in my pocket without even the slightest notice from my unwilling dance partner. Then, fifteen minutes to the second (good thing I had been keeping track of the time) she broke it off. “Thank you”, I said, to which she mumbled, “my money, sir!” I told her I had to collect it, and would meet her by the ladies powder room. I left her waiting, smiling inwardly to myself at the empty space from which the missing jewelry was glaringly gone from her.
She had no doubt that I would be back with her money, was I not merely like one of her household servants, who routinely, without question or error, existed to do her bidding. It would be a major jolt to her system when she realized I was not coming obediently back to her. I had no doubt she would spend some time searching me out for her money once she realized I was not coming back forthwith, with the intention of lecturing me on how I should act around my betters. So I knew that her immediate attention would be elsewhere upon realizing I was tardy, and that it would take quite a bit of time before she recieved a second shock of an altogether different sort.
I left with my prize, walking past the two guards with such a carefree air that even they would never have suspected that I could possibly have been up to any mischief. I made good time getting back to the dingy motel room. Changed out of my costume and back into the shirt and tie I had worn. The highwayman costume, which had served me well, I rolled in a bundle under my arm, I again left by the back stairwell and retraced my earlier steps, whistling, back to the suite in the hotel. Along the way the costume was stuffed unceremoniously into a handy trash bin. My little operation had been a complete success. The evening was after all, not going to be a total loss.
Back in my suite I stowed the newly acquired jewels the girl had worn into one of my many secret hiding spots. There they would be safe until I could convey it to my banks lockbox on Monday. As I finished I, spied the phantom of the opera mask lying discarded on top of a table. A shame it would not be used….
A thought washed over me that would not be denied! Risky, but it would make my evening complete. I quickly shaved off the thin beard, and restyled my hair. I changed from my suit into my tux and tails. Scooping up the phantom mask I headed back to the costume ball. Placing the mask on before entering, I presented my second ticket( not very often did the opportunity arise to use both of the pair of tickets I customarily purchased!) I walked past the two security types without a second glance from them, they absolutely did not recognize me, which meant I had passed that test. My objective now was to try and catch the second half of the show; namely the shimmering liquid satin gowned brats squawking reaction when she first discovered her jewels were gone.
I regained a bar seat just in time.
She did not disappoint!
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Epilogue
When, in the presence of both bank and county officials, the strong box was opened, it was found to contain a fairly large collection of the Kings currency, equaling roughly £500 , and a selection unmatched jewelry, rings, single earrings, bracelets, and necklaces, worth a almost £3.000. Also inside was small a bundle of papers. The papers, old and yellowed, appeared to contain the partial handwritten journals of a certain Mr. Harly Q___ , esq. The papers were examined, but gave no clues to who Harley was, or to his current whereabouts. But the journals presented clues as to Harly’s nature, and as a consequence the money and jewels were considered stolen goods and handed over to the authorities. No one knows what became of them, as for the papers, they were handed over to a relative of one of the government officials, and also, for a period of time, lost.
The journal was rediscovered amongst the personal files of the late Professor Sedwig Dermitt phd, llc.a dex,
Recovered, restored, and now kept in the human behavioral archives of the criminology dept, Chatwick U.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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Hey, someone took time out of their busy life to point out that Mina's eyes are not in focus, therefore FAIL. After much hand-wringing and bemoaning my tragic existence as a failing photographer, I asked Mina how she felt about it. She peed on a blade of grass. So there you go.
Time to go home - at a village at Perambalur, 50 Kms north of Tiruchirappalli, Tamilnadu.
Perambalur is a district headquarters and a taluk and municipality in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu. Perambalur District came in to existence after trifurcation of Tiruchirappalli district with effect from 30.09.1995.
Perambalur (பெரம்பலூர்) is located at 11°14′N 78°53′E / 11.23°N 78.88°E / 11.23; 78.88. It has an average elevation of 143 metres (469 feet).
As of 2001 Indian census, Perambalur had a population of 29,698. Males constitute 51% of the population and females 49%. Perambalur has an average literacy rate of 78%, higher than the national average of 59.5%: male literacy is 82%, and female literacy is 73%. In Perambalur, 10% of the population is under 6 years of age.
Main religions are Hinduism (87%), Muslim (8%) and others (5%).
Source : Wikipedia
Now and then it's good to ponder the nature of space, time, and existence; the biggest mysteries of all. A variation of the previous photograph. The background is a photo of the Orion Nebula 1,500 light years away from the Hubble Space Telescope.
"We're made of star-stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself."
-Carl Sagan
Since the demolition of Hamburg's St. Mary's Cathedral in 1805, St. Peter's is the oldest church still in existence in Hamburg. The first building of St. Peter's Church was a wooden chapel from the beginning of the 11th century, which found its first documentary record in 1195. Today, as then, it is located on Mönckebergstraße. When the wooden building was replaced by a stone building is not historically known. At the beginning of the 14th century, the increasing prosperity of Hamburg's citizens made it possible to expand the church into a three-nave Gothic hall church made of brick. A bronze door pull representing a lion's head is the oldest surviving work of art in the Hanseatic city. Its inscription attests to the laying of the foundation stone of the tower in 1342. With the addition of a second southern With the addition of a second southern aisle around 1418, the main expansion work was completed. The church tower, which was rebuilt from 1513 to 1516, was the tallest in the city at 127.5 meters - until the 135-meter-high steeple of St. Nikolai was completed in 1518. During the Great Fire, the church burned out completely on May 7, 1842. However, a large part of it was rebuilt just two years later with an orientation towards the pulpit. Seven years later, the church building, which was partly based on its medieval predecessor and partly on new elements, could be consecrated. By 1418, the main extensions to the nave had been completed. The church tower, which was rebuilt from 1513 to 1516, was the highest in the city at 127.5 meters high - until the 135-meter-high steeple of St. Nikolai was completed in 1518. During the Great Fire, the church burned down completely on May 7, 1842. A large part of the walls subsequently collapsed. However, most of the works of art were saved from the flames. Just two years later, it was rebuilt with an orientation towards the pulpit. Seven years later, the church building, which was partly based on its medieval predecessor and partly on new elements, could be consecrated. The church survived the bombings of the 2nd World War almost without damage.
Zofiówka Sanatorium is a defunct mental health facility in the town of Otwock in Poland, built at the beginning of the 20th century. In the Second Polish Republic, the sanatorium complex was expanded with more buildings and staff. Zofiówka initially had 95 beds, but this number had increased to 275 by 1935. The Jewish history of Zofiówka has come to its tragic end in the course of the Holocaust following the invasion of Poland by Nazi Germany.
Construction
The history of the old Jewish sanatorium starts at the beginning of the 20th century. Back then, the institutionalized treatment of mental disorders was in its infancy. In 1906, Polish-Jewish neurologists Adam Wizel, Samuel Goldflam, Ludwik Bregman and Adolf Weisblat formed the "Society for Poor Jews with Nervous and Mental Illnesses" (Polish: Towarzystwo Opieki nad Ubogimi, Nerwowo i Umysłowo Chorymi Żydami). The sanatorium's director was Dr. Stefan Miller.A year later, a donation by the philanthropist Sophia Endelman enabled the purchase of 17 hectares of land and in 1908 the first building of a new sanatorium was built by the association there. An important part of the treatment was restoring patients to society by enabling them to practice employment. In its isolation ward (part of the hospital reserved for the most difficult patients), the mother of famous Polish poet, Julian Tuwim, Adela Tuwim was placed before World War II.
Holocaust history
In late 1940, the asylum fell within the so-called ‘medical zone’ formed by the Germans in the newly established Jewish ghetto of Otwock. The institution was still working during the early stages of the occupation of Poland, but the conditions dramatically worsened. Almost 400 patients were sentenced to a slow and torturous death by starvation as part of the Nazi extermination Aktionen. Zofiówka ended its existence at the same time as ghetto in Otwock.
On the morning of 19 August 1942, the Ukrainian Trawnikis supervised by the Germans, gathered the patients and the hospital crew in the first pavilion. Some 100-140 victims were shot on the spot, the rest were put on the Holocaust train to Treblinka along with Otwock’s Jewish population of 7,000.[2] Only a few doctors, who managed to escape to Warsaw by ambulance, survived. Some of the staff people committed suicide. In 1943 Zofiówka served Germans as Lebensborn, the institution of charity care. The facility also dealt with the Germanization of Polish children, and bringing them up for adoption to families in Germany.
After World War II
Zofiówka returned to its original medical purposes after the Soviet takeover, but patients were mainly children and young people. Between 1985 and mid 90’s, the facility was used in treating neuropsychiatric disorders associated with drug addiction. This continued on until the decision was made to finally close it.
In 2015, the Internet viral video called 11B-X-1371 was found to have been filmed at the abandoned facility, though by whom and when, exactly, are not known.
Se considera la diócesis de Guadix como la mas antigua de España, fundada en el siglo I por San Torcuato, uno de los siete varones apostólicos de Hispania. Se conoce la existencia de una iglesia catedral durante el periodo visigodo. Con la invasión musulmana el solar catedralicio estuvo ocupado por la Mezquita Mayor y después de la conquista cristiana sería levantada sobre ella la iglesia mayor en 1492 , que se convertiría al poco tiempo en catedral cristiana.
The diocese of Guadix is considered to be the oldest in Spain, founded in the 1st century by Saint Torquatus, one of the seven apostolic men of Hispania. The existence of a cathedral church is known to have existed during the Visigothic period. With the Muslim invasion, the cathedral site was occupied by the Great Mosque and after the Christian conquest, the main church was built on it in 1492, which was soon converted into a Christian cathedral.
Guadix (Granada/ Spain)
Bodie Island Lighthouse is one of a series of lights that were built along North Carolina's Outer Banks. Think of a lighthouse as the original GPS... along with the Sun and stars, these lighthouses were fixed points, visible both day and night, that ships' captains would navigate from to avoid the deadly shoals off North Carolina's coast. It is not for no reason that the area off Cape Hatteras is called "The Graveyard of the Atlantic"... these lighthouses saved lives! Bodie Island Lighthouse started service on October 1, 1872. Since that day, it has had a relatively serene existence, despite the occasional hurricane, nor'easter, and the harsh salt environment of the coast... but time takes its toll on everything. After many years of restoration, Bodie Island Lighthouse opened this April (2013) to visitors inside the structure for the first time in its near 141 year history.
The National Park Service, who looks after the lighthouse now, conducts the tours in an orderly way. The group I was with all met in a small room at the base of the lighthouse where we were lectured on the "rules" before we made our way to the top of the structure. We had a fairly eclectic group with many families... some were from Ohio, Wisconsin, and Florida, and there were a group of Mennonites on vacation as well, all crammed in this room, learning mostly what not to do. "Not to do": no running, no stamping of feet, no loud talking, etc., but the coup de grâce was "no sliding down the banisters!"
For reasons I fully understand, the park service, for the first time as a public service to our beachgoing public, also explained about rip currents, also known as rip tide. I've been caught in one... it carries you out to sea, but only so far. It's nearly impossible to swim against it... you ride it out, swim parallel to the shore and swim back. Sounds easy, but a lot of folks drown trying to fight it. So the park service is effectively being proactive about it at every venue where they have a captive audience, and I say "good for them." But if you know me at all, you know I can't leave well enough alone in a situation like that... our guide asked at his conclusion, "Any questions or thoughts?" "Yes", I could hear myself saying, "If we encounter a rip current up there, I'm sliding down the banister!" Everybody laughed, but not so hard as the Mennonites. Seems I love a captive audience as well! It reminded me of my short, but colorful career as an Amish comedian... but that's a story for another time.
In this image, I made it down the structure before anyone else (I behaved, and did not slide down the banister), set the camera for delay at 0.8-second exposure, set it in the middle of the floor and walked away... I love the blur of people making their way back down.
Outwood Windmill was built for Thomas Budgen (1640–1716) in 1665. The original deed for its erection is still in existence. Thomas Budgen borrowed the money to finance the building of the windmill from two of his brothers-in-law. He was able to repay them within two years. The builders of the mill are traditionally said to have watched the Great Fire of London glowing in the distance, some 25 miles (40 km) away. In 1678, Thomas Budgen was convicted under the Conventicle Act as a seditious preacher, and fined £20.[3]
John Budgen took the mill on his father's death, and in 1715 was paying Quit Rent on the mill, a malthouse and a brick kiln. John Budgen died in 1765 and the rent was paid by his widow until she died in 1768, when Ezekial Budgen took the mill. Ezekial Budgen was involved in a quarrel with his brother Isaac, which led to William Budgen (Ezekial's nephew) being granted a piece of land near the mill in 1796 with liberty to erect a windmill upon it. By 1806, the mill was in the possession of John Jupp. William Jupp took the mill sometime before 1880 and ran it until he died in 1934. In 1929, the Windmill Section of the Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings recognised the mill as "of paramount importance". A new pair of Spring sails were needed in 1931. The Society paid for Thomas Hunt, the Soham millwright to make and fit these at a cost of £80. William Jupp agreed not to sell the mill for demolition as a condition of the work being done. Publicity generated at the time led to an increase in orders at the mill. On 30 October 1931, a meeting was held to appeal for funds to replace the older pair of sails. Hilaire Belloc, who at the time owned Shipley windmill in Sussex, was the main speaker. Sir Joseph Rank was one of the subscribers. In 1933, a pair of sails was purchased secondhand[3] These had previously been on the Black Mill, Forncett End, Norfolk, which had been demolished in September 1932.[4] These replaced a pair of sails that had been on the mill for in excess of sixty years. William Jupp died in 1934.[3]
Stanley Jupp then took the mill. In the 1930s, the mill was little used, and started to deteriorate. Plans were drawn up for further restoration, but were postponed due to World War II. Milling ceased at Outwood in 1949 when the breast beam cracked and the windshaft dropped causing the sails to touch the roundhouse roof. Temporary repairs were made by millwrights E Hole & Son of Burgess Hill, followed by extensive repairs, including a new breast beam and prick post, in 1952. One of the sail stocks was found to be defective in 1955 and a new pair of spring sails was fitted. A grant of £750 from the Ministry of Works being given to enable the work to be carried out, on condition that public access would be given on appointment. The older of the two stocks broke in January 1956. E Hole & Son fitted a new stock and sail on 25 October 1958. William Jupp ran the mill until 1962. In the autumn of 1962, the mill was bought by the Thomas brothers.[3]
On 12 June 1964, the mill was caught in a severe thunderstorm. The mill was tailwinded, and only saved when the new owners turned the mill so that the wind was side on to the mill.[3] In 2003, the mill was offered for sale, with a price tag of £600,000.[5] On 5 January 2012, a sail was damaged in a gale.[6]