View allAll Photos Tagged Finalization
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X
Elariah Virellune was not born — she was woven. In the dawn before time whispered its first syllables, the Dream-Tide shimmered through the cosmos and left behind its most radiant echo: Elariah.
Her skin is soft stardust and ocean foam, aglow with cosmic light — a tapestry of twilight blues, purples, and the occasional flare of rose-gold shimmer that drifts across her like a living nebula. Her eyes are galactic wells: vast, hypnotic, and filled with swirling magic — not merely windows to the soul, but galaxies bound by purpose.
Twisting from her temples are iridescent, crystalline horns, like spiraled reef-crowns blessed by the gods of light and tide. Her hair flows endlessly, a cascade of pearlescent strands threaded with pearls, starlight motes, and whispers of forgotten dreams.
Elariah is the last known Syla’nari, an ancient celestial bloodline tasked with preserving the harmony between sleeping realms and the waking world. She speaks not with sound, but through resonance — thoughts that bloom like music in the minds of those who can still dream.
Though divine in bearing, she is not infallible. Elariah feels the shift before it arrives. Something darker now tugs at the edge of dreams — and she alone must cross the veil to stop it.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by a Second Life Image of: OlBear Threebeards
Reimagined in Ai, thnk you for the Inspiration
Beneath a sky ablaze with violet lightning and cursed wind, a lone warrior stands defiant on the edge of the known world. With steel in hand and scars carved by time and fate, he faces a towering wraith — a deathless sentinel cloaked in shadows, hovering above the broken earth. Trees twist like skeletal hands around them, and the air trembles between silence and ruin. This is no ordinary duel — it is a reckoning between mortality and the eternal, where one breath and one blade may decide the balance between life and oblivion.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X
From the molten breath of the world’s first volcano rose Virethra, a being neither goddess nor beast — but something older. Her sapphire skin is armored in ancient scales, glowing from within like the last light of a dying sun. Her eyes are forged from raw flame, twin pyres that pierce through lies, fear, and the fabric of time itself.
Crown-like horns spiral from her skull like molten gold twisted by wind, and emberlight dances across her form with every breath. Her presence ignites the very air, trailing fire motes like falling stars. She speaks only when silence burns too loud, and when she does, mountains bow.
Virethra is not a conqueror.
She is the flame after the fall —
the sovereign of ruin,
the beauty of extinction,
and the whisper in the fire that says:
"I remain."
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Liora Vael, the Heart of the Blooming Flame, stands not upon the earth — she roots through time itself. Her form is sculpted from bark and breathing light, her body a cathedral of ancient wood and woven vines. Glowing golden embers pulse within her chest and neck, tracing her figure like sacred veins of fire within a living tree.
Her eyes burn — not with wrath, but with prophecy. They are the kind of eyes that see seeds inside stones and futures beneath falling leaves.
Upon her brow, an impossible crown blossoms: enormous lotus-like flowers, each petal alight with inner flame, glowing like the sun trapped in velvet. They bloom from her head as though thought itself became flower. Around her, the air vibrates — not with sound, but with awe.
Where she walks, the forest blooms in silence.
Where she breathes, the old gods stir.
She is neither goddess nor spirit.
She is the memory of growth in a world that once forgot how to bloom.
I have finalized my designs and the process to make my tents.
I have decided not to use the stitching or window flaps on my tents, I prefer the clean look. Shown are all the tents except for the medic tent which will be screen-printed.
I am in the process of treating fabric and cutting the tents, I'm hoping to have them listed by Friday, as long as my fabric arrives on time. Not shown is a natural colored fabric which I plan to use for revolutionary and civil war tents.
Question: Should I make tent fly's to match the tents ?
FN-2187 and Poe sneak aboard a Tie Fighter and attempt to escape the Finalizer. Unfortunately, the escape does not go smoothly as the craft is tethered to its docking port. The pair eventually make it out of the hangar, leaving a cloud of destruction in their wake.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
The Backward Smiler: Reflectionbound
"It smiles with you, then before you... then without you."
In the dim light of antique mirrors and still water, The Backward Smiler waits—not behind you, but within you. Its skin gleams like tarnished chrome, featureless until you give it something to mimic. The image in the reflection is always too perfect at first… and then, far too wrong.
It mimics your body. Your posture.
Then it smiles too early.
Then it smiles too wide.
And before you know it… it’s no longer you.
In this form, Reflectionbound, The Backward Smiler doesn't just mimic you—it stretches beyond you. Its smile splits into something anatomical and unnatural, tearing at the "boundary" between what is flesh and what is memory. The surface of the mirror becomes liquid-like, a gateway into itself, as if the reflection is trying to pull you in.
Lore:
Some say this is not one creature, but a sentient network of haunted mirrors, all sharing a single consciousness—the first mirror that ever reflected human fear. This form, seen in the reflection here, is its true shape—not bound by anatomy, but by mimicry itself.
Children say if you stare too long into a mirror at night and force a smile, you’ll start to feel it smile back with muscles you don’t control.
Phenomena & Warnings:
Smile Lag: Your reflection will smile before you do.
Face Tension: Prolonged staring may cause the feeling of your skin pulling inward toward the mirror.
Reflection Mismatch: Victims report seeing themselves continue to move for 2–3 seconds after turning away.
How to Banish It (Temporarily):
Speak your full name backward three times.
Do not cover the mirror—break the gaze instead.
If its smile begins to stretch, never return to that mirror again.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by a picture of: jean-baptiste.higounet
A breathtaking vision of a near-future waterfront at dusk, where innovation meets elegance. The scene centers on a luxurious, next-gen transport vessel docked at a sleek, neon-lit pier. The craft’s aerodynamic hull gleams with brushed metallic panels and seamless curves, illuminated by underglow lighting in hues of teal, violet, and pink that shimmer across the rippling water. Its translucent canopy reveals a pristine, high-tech interior, hinting at silent propulsion and zero-gravity comfort.
The docking station itself is a marvel of modern architecture—angular yet fluid, with suspended rooflines and ambient lighting that casts a soft glow on the trio of silhouetted passengers preparing to board. Above them, a dual-tiered bridge stretches across the horizon, supported by futuristic pylons and lined with minimal light trails from anti-grav vehicles.
The background buzzes with life: a sprawling metropolis silhouetted by the fading sun, with glowing skyscrapers, elegant suspension bridges, and distant drones crisscrossing the skyline. The sky burns with the last light of day—clouds tinged gold and blush—while the water below reflects the surreal palette of a world perfectly balanced between natural beauty and synthetic advancement.
© István Pénzes.
Please NOTE and RESPECT the copyright.
12th March 2022, Berlin
Leica M-P Typ 240
Leica Apo-Summicron 75mm ASPH.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Aelrié glides more than walks, her translucent form wrapped in robes of living starlight and silken mist. Her hair flows like a pastel aurora — shimmering in blues, pinks, and warm sunrise gold — constantly moving, as if brushed by unseen tides. Her eyes remain closed unless she truly sees someone — and when she does, galaxies flicker within.
Location: Wanders the borders of Dreamflow and waking woodlands, near dew-covered ruins and veiled memories.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Amid a vast and desolate wasteland, beneath a sky bleached pale with dust and wind, rises a terrifying figure — a war-goddess cursed by the divine, reborn as myth incarnate. Her face, pallid and cracked like weathered stone, is frozen mid-scream, mouth opened impossibly wide to reveal rows of jagged, predatory fangs — a cry that splits the silence of the dead desert.
Crowning her head is a living, writhing mass of serpents — not simple snakes, but scaled horrors with embedded bone and death etched into their form. Each snake is forged from gold and shadow, some hissing, some lunging, their eyes cold with ancient wrath. Twisted among them are shriveled skulls — trophies or cursed souls bound into her mane — forming a grotesque halo of bone and flesh.
Her eyes burn with an unnatural, glowing blue light — devoid of mercy, filled with vengeance. Ornate golden armor, cracked with age and scorched by time, wraps around her shoulders and chest like the remnants of a forgotten dynasty. The plates are worn, yet still gleam faintly with residual power, covered in runes and mechanical joints, blurring the line between technology and necromancy.
Behind her, the barren earth stretches endlessly. The cracked sands and distant mountains frame her as an ancient queen of ruin — a deity unburied, unrepentant. She kneels with clawed fingers digging into the dust, a creature poised between scream and spell, vengeance and rebirth.
She is not hiding. She is not myth.
She is the curse.
Working hard last night to finalize portrait work with Evangelia, inspired from Japanese Beauty, that I wanted to share.
Picture taken Hasseblad H5D50 and Profoto Lights!
One light setup a 39' Elinchrom deep octa and a white panel reflecting the light back.
ISO 50, F 11, 1/ 125
Retouching with Photoshop, skin coloring .
Photography John Magas & Anthea Blanas
Model: Evangelia Gkountroumpi
Retouching & Color Grading: John Magas
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Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop and Photoscape X.
Hidden deep within the Chasm of Lament, a yawning abyss where light dares not descend, the Sepulchral Spire rises unnaturally from the stone — as if summoned, not built. It hangs suspended above the abyss on impossible arches of bone and iron, anchored by forgotten spells and the will of its mistress.
Yay, Eva's personal mashup is done, and I'm pleased with myself :P
Obviously not for distribution because other talented people's assets were used here.
Assets from the following mods were used:
Brotherhood of Steel Kit by Leyr
CROSS Uni BoS Uniform by Niero
CROSS Uni Scarf by Niero
WOBA - Weapons on Back Addon by Amoveve
combat gear semi upgrade for wearable backpack by nhimkoko
Nanosuit by Vasstek
Simply clothes by invalidfate
Spartan Sniper Outfit - CBBE by calyps
This is the second finalized building for my ongoing city project. It's going to nestle against a firehouse when the project is done.
This was photographed with a new lighting setup...not really a fan of it, so I think I'll try to make an actual lightbox as soon as the hobby shops re-open here.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by Underworld
Perched high atop the rain-slicked spires of the gothic skyline, she surveys the sleeping city below — a predator cloaked in leather and silence. Her name is whispered in both vampire courts and hunter enclaves alike, a legend draped in shadows. As lightning tears through the storm-choked sky, her crimson eyes reflect the war that brews beneath the surface. She is the last sentinel of a broken covenant — patient, poised, and ready to descend into chaos.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Bathed in violet light and veiled in midnight shimmer, Celestia Noir commands the cosmic runway like a goddess of sound and starlight. Her flowing obsidian hair merges with the shadows while her black and purple jeweled bodysuit radiates gold-threaded brilliance, reflecting the blaze of the spotlight and the fire of her presence. Swirls of golden particles dance around her like fragments of a distant galaxy, as her radiant rainbow eyes remain closed in serene confidence—lost in her own gravitational rhythm. A fusion of dark glamour and celestial mystique, she is both the silence before the beat drops and the echo that lingers after.
Done in Ai. Finalized in Photoshop.
She stands before the Gates of Hell — not as a servant, but as its sovereign sentinel.
Lilith Vehrakai, daughter of betrayal and queen by blood-forged right, commands the threshold between damnation and the world above. Her crimson hair flows like molten silk, a banner of wrath and seduction. Two blackened horns crown her like a queen of shadows, twisted with age and power. Her glowing ember eyes burn with eternal judgment — not rage, but calculation.
Her armor is wrought of black steel and abyssal bone, encrusted with soulstone and demon-forged silver. The chestplate bears the sigil of the Ninth Seal, and her shoulders bloom with barbed plating like the wings of a nightmare. A dark gothic cross marks her forehead — a symbol of rebellion, punishment, and control.
Behind her, the Gates of Hell tower with ancient menace: a labyrinth of obsidian carvings, serpents, and twisted demons. Dragon-like beasts writhe in bas-relief, clutching screaming skulls in coiling claws. Fallen angels are etched into the surface — wings broken, eyes hollow, hands forever reaching toward a heaven that cast them down.
Lilith does not speak.
She does not invite.
She waits — for the day the gates open not to keep souls in… but to let her out.
As I was finalizing the selection for the print of my photographs from Sweden, one picture caught my eye and resonated with me. I captured this particular shot in Abisko during the same midnight sun hike as the pictures I shared earlier. Abisko, situated 250 km north of the Arctic Circle, offers a unique opportunity to witness the captivating Arctic daytime phenomenon that takes place starting in June, when the sun never sets. Even at midnight, the sun remains visible above the horizon, casting a mesmerizing blend of red and yellow hues across the sky. Walking through the Nordic alpine terrain beneath this enchanting illuminated sky feels like a truly surreal experience – an illuminated Abisko, Norrbotten, Sweden.
Large images and the technica details in my blog, please, have a look here:
www.astroanarchy.blogspot.fi/2012/10/ic-1340-project-fina...
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
She stands cloaked in light, her presence commanding yet serene — an ethereal empress born of starlight and forged in grace. A diadem of silver and crystal crowns her midnight curls, and her veil, sheer as moonlight, flows like whispered prayers to the heavens. Armor of luminous silver glistens across her shoulders and chest, adorned with delicate celestial carvings that shimmer with divine energy. Golden sparks dance around her, as though the stars themselves have gathered to honor her radiance. Her gaze is steady, eyes like twin comets, holding the wisdom of the cosmos and the mercy of dawn. She is not merely royal, she is the light before the storm, the prophecy wrapped in silk and steel.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
Bathed in the cold, ethereal glow of the deep ocean, a mysterious sea-sorceress stands cloaked in shadows and shimmering magic. Her midnight-blue skin glistens with a serpentine sheen, patterned in subtle scales that catch every ember of light. Eyes burning with golden fire pierce the darkness, glowing with ancient power and secrets long submerged. From her tangled, kelp-like hair hang glinting pearls and crystal filigree, whispering of royal lineage or forgotten magic.
Cradled delicately in her hands is a radiant, flame-like crystal — pulsing and alive, its molten core casting flickering reflections across her sculpted face and chest. Each spark that escapes its surface drifts upward like fireflies in slow motion, illuminating the bioluminescent beads that adorn her collar and arms. The cave around her is otherworldly, carved by centuries of currents, lined with glowing coral, drifting lights, and the eerie silence of the abyss.
She is not merely part of the sea — she commands it. A sentinel of drowned realms. A bearer of the last living flame beneath the waves.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
“Built from war. Driven by wrath.”
From the ruins of fire-choked highways and collapsing cities, this is no truck — it’s a predator on 18 wheels. A biomechanical demon forged in steel, circuits, and fury. No driver. No mercy. Just forward motion and the end of everything in its wake.
They say it doesn’t need fuel.
They say it hunts on instinct.
They say if you see its eyes glow red… it’s already too late.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
Aurelya, the Pale Depths Empress, stands timeless within her frozen dominion, her presence both a warning and a wonder. Her skin is porcelain-fair and flawless, yet untouched by warmth. Her eyes glow with glacial radiance, crystalline and ever-watching — as though carved from the hearts of ancient icebergs that have never seen sunlight.
Her gown is an intricate tapestry of midnight-black silk and layered frost-lace, sculpted to perfection, fitted like ritual armor. Sprawling across her bodice is a tangle of frozen root-metal filigree, like winter-locked veins of a petrified world tree. Embedded within these woven branches lie three radiant orbs — pearls of impossible sheen, said to contain the last whispered breaths of forgotten seasons. Each orb pulses faintly, as though alive: memory, silence, eternity.
Aurelya’s crown is not worn, but grown — branching antler-like silver spirals emerge from her scalp and forehead like crystallized thorns of sovereignty. Her presence crackles in the silence, and even the icicles that surround her bow under the weight of her command.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Phostoshop and Photoscape X
Fanart inspired by Avatar The Way Of Water
High above the churning emerald ocean, a fierce Na’vi warrior commands a thunder-laced wyvern with wings of sunlit fire. The beast's armor-plated scales shimmer with hues of oceanic sapphire and volcanic bronze, each plate glinting in the fury of the storm-split sky. With eyes ablaze in molten gold and a snarl that echoes across the sea spray, the wyvern dives through a corridor of wind and water, talons poised and fangs bared.
Clad in woven leather, bone charms, and tribal metal, the rider leans into the dive, a spear clutched tightly in hand, dreadlocked hair whipping like dark flames behind them. The sun breaks through rifted clouds above, casting light through the translucent golden veins of the wyvern’s wings, creating a radiant halo as they descend.
Beneath them, the sea roils — a vast battlefield of wave and sky, prophecy and war. This is not just flight — it is a storm incarnate, a skyborne declaration of fury, freedom, and vengeance.
Yay, Eva's personal mashup is done, and I'm pleased with myself :P
Obviously not for distribution because other talented people's assets were used here.
Assets from the following mods were used:
Brotherhood of Steel Kit by Leyr
CROSS Uni BoS Uniform by Niero
CROSS Uni Scarf by Niero
WOBA - Weapons on Back Addon by Amoveve
combat gear semi upgrade for wearable backpack by nhimkoko
Nanosuit by Vasstek
Simply clothes by invalidfate
Spartan Sniper Outfit - CBBE by calyps
Yay, Eva's personal mashup is done, and I'm pleased with myself :P
Obviously not for distribution because other talented people's assets were used here.
Assets from the following mods were used:
Brotherhood of Steel Kit by Leyr
CROSS Uni BoS Uniform by Niero
CROSS Uni Scarf by Niero
WOBA - Weapons on Back Addon by Amoveve
combat gear semi upgrade for wearable backpack by nhimkoko
Nanosuit by Vasstek
Simply clothes by invalidfate
Spartan Sniper Outfit - CBBE by calyps
And here is the finalized design of the 265!
As for the features that may be note worthy for some:
*Working Hatches
*DBG & ODG camo
I personally really like the overal out come of it, especial as it started out as a table scrab.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Inspired by and Reimagined
In the heart of a dense, enchanted jungle, a powerful red-skinned elven warrior stands poised, her golden, glowing eyes cutting through the misty green light of the forest. Her face is marked with sharp, jet-black warpaint in angular, arcane patterns—symbols of her tribe’s ancient power and unbroken lineage. Intricately braided dark hair is woven with feathers, bones, and strands of leather, swaying slightly in the humid breeze.
Her expression is fierce and unyielding, a blend of wild pride and primal wisdom. Tribal jewelry—fangs, beads, and talismans—adorn her neck and shoulders, catching the ambient glow of magical fireflies drifting through the air. The thick forest behind her pulses with life and mystery, vibrant with massive leaves, bioluminescent flora, and a canopy that lets in beams of golden sunlight. Flickers of floating light dance in the background, hinting at the living magic that saturates the place.
She is not a visitor in this mystical realm—she is its guardian, a spirit of the wild, forged from earth, flame, and blood. Everything about her, from the sharpness of her gaze to the quiet tension in her muscles, speaks of strength, ancestral power, and a connection to something ancient and untamed.
It has been a while since I came up with some new but I did quite a lot this year. I simply didn't found time to finalize my running projects or take pictures of them.
Anyhow, this the first of a pair of Scania's LBS141. Originally I started this one at the end of 2015 but due to several reasons I didn't touch it.
The 141 was one of the strongest trucks on the market during the late 70s. It had a staggering 375 hp produced by a 14.2 litre V8 engine. It was very capable for heavy haulage like this example operated by a Dutch hauler.
Although the chassis of the real thing is exactly the same as my vintage blue 111 this one it scratch built (the 111 is a true 'old skool' model). The model is completely new, the only thing I recycled is the engine from the bonneted Scania I had previously. But I did some additional detailing to it to make it even more lifelike. The rear axle can be lifted as also contains every detail.
The cab took quite some time to assemble. However it looks like an easy one I definitely wanted to have all curves and edges correct. In some cases it meant edges of less than half a stud (like the one through the centre of the cab). Also the rear panel has a distinctive pattern. The wheel arches are containing a lot of parts but I think the shape is close to the real thing, also just in front of the doors. The interior is brown and dark red, colors many trucks had in that era.
The unit has some typical late 70s, early 80s details like a roof rack and ladder, the two puppets and a TIR badge. The license plates are carrying the original Dutch font.
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop.
Deep beneath the Verdant Reverie, where light forgets to rise, lies the Ossuary Bloom — a sprawling necropolis of dream-remains. It is a garden and a grave, lit by plants that glow not with life, but with longing. Every vine pulses with the ache of aspirations never achieved, of loves never returned, of potential never realized.
🌿 Landscape & Environment
Towering skeletal trees rise like cathedral spires, their bark twisted with bioluminescent blossoms that glow like embers.
Petal-lit pools mirror starlight that no longer exists, surrounded by soft moss and black stone.
The terrain flows like a forgotten riverbed, dotted with luminous flowers that pulse gently with memory.
Airborne motes drift like lantern dust between ancient growths, giving the whole space a feeling of suspended time.
Coral-like structures made from calcified regrets.
Bioluminescent blossoms open only in the presence of silent yearning.
Pools of Forgetting where dreams that gave up drift like ash.
The air is thick, warm, and smells faintly of old paper and crushed jasmine.
🌘 Mechanics & Themes
Dream-Spores: Entities may inhale spores that cause visions of the lives they never lived.
Gravebloom Tangles: Floral vines that bind around the ankles of the emotionally burdened.
Echo Petals: When stepped on, whisper the last thought of a dream that died there.
️ Encounters
Floraspirants: Hollow, glowing plant-beings who carry fragments of unfulfilled ambitions.
Hushed Widows: Shrouded figures who tend the bones of abandoned purposes.
The Gilded Root: A buried, half-sentient tendril that offers to grow your unlived life — at the cost of your current one.
“Here lies what almost was.”
Optimized Encounter Prompt: Bloom Beneath
You step into a basin of silence. Light does not shine here — it aches. Around you, blossoms pulse gently with the weight of dreams that never lived long enough to become regrets. The air hums with want. Beneath your feet, something shifts — not hostile, but expectant.
Then: a vine grazes your ankle. Softly. Like a hand remembering touch.
You hear a whisper that ends in your own voice.
🌱 Choose how the Bloom reaches you:
A flower blooms with your face in it, mouthing the thing you never became.
A pool reflects not your image, but the version of you that stayed behind.
A Hushed Widow offers you a blossom — and calls you by a name you’ve never heard, but know.
The Gilded Root hums beneath the soil and offers you a single choice: forget what you are, or remember what you were never allowed to be.
🎭 To walk the Ossuary Bloom is not to mourn — it is to decide what part of you still waits to be planted.
New Zealand Photowalks and Talks Finalized!
We are looking at Auckland on Feb 19 and Christchurch on Mar 4. Both events will include a talk, which you are welcome to attend. They are free as the birds, and I look forward to meeting all you nice Kiwis! There is more information on the New Zealand page here!
Photo Mystery of the Week
What exactly is the photo below? Be sure you zoom into the big size and poke around for clues....
Daily Photo - The Mysteries of the Boudoir
I found this gem while in New York during the book launch party there. It's one of those times when I am happy I carry my camera almost everywhere. It's a real pain, especially when I had a major disaster in a tiny robot-bathroom in Tokyo. That is a story I can't share on the blog because it's all too wheels-off. But, in this circumstance, having a camera worked out well.
Isn't this the strangest thing in the world? But it's so interesting.... I could not stop looking at it!
Finalized some plans to revisit Sanibel Island next year. We will be spending a week there next February with friends. The condos that we will be staying at are right on the beach, with easy access for sunrise and sunset walks and photos. This is one of the shots that I took one evening, when the cloud cover was nice enough to allow for a gap where the sun could show off its beauty before sinking below the horizon.
Done in AI, Finalized in Photoshop
Clad in celestial armor etched with forgotten runes, the Valkyrie rides through storm and shadow upon a thunder-eyed steed. Her silver hair streams like lightning through the battle-scorched skies, cloak billowing in winds born of prophecy. As the last light of day breaks behind her, she rides not as a savior — but as the omen of reckoning. Where her blade falls, silence reigns. She is the storm given form, the harbinger of fate — the final breath before the world resets.
Well that's it! It's amazing how fingers can give so much character to him (well IMO). Gonna start building something else soon, hopefully...Hope you guys like him!
Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Bathed in the soft golden light of a rising sun, the legendary Hanging Gardens of Babylon rise in majestic, terraced splendor. A cascade of waterfalls flows from tier to tier, spilling into crystalline pools covered with lily pads and flanked by wild orchids, blooming hibiscus, and towering palms. Every inch of the ancient stone architecture is entwined with greenery — creeping ivy, flowering vines, and lush ferns spilling over arched colonnades and spiral stairways.
Ancient pillars and walkways curve gracefully around the garden’s many levels, forming a harmonious blend of natural beauty and monumental human craftsmanship. Light mist from the waterfalls catches the sun, creating a dreamlike veil through which stone bridges and hidden alcoves shimmer in the distance.
The air is thick with the scent of jasmine and myrrh, the soft hum of bees, and the distant murmur of flowing water — a sacred sanctuary, alive with divine serenity. This is no mere garden; it is a living temple of abundance, art, and ancient wonder, suspended between earth and heaven.
After six months of building I finalized my first large scale US truck. As the K100 is one of my favorite trucks I wanted to have such in my collection. I disassembled my old Scania 141 tow trucks and used the bodywork and Holmes 750 for the KW. Fitted with an underlift it make the truck even more versatile. Quite some parts of the model are chrome which my mate Bricksonwheels supplied me. I had to use a lot of unconventional building techniques to get the cab into the right shape. Turning pieces upside down, building things off set etc. and without glueing anything. I already typed the full story for this model on my website. If you would like to see and read more about it, please take a visit: www.dennisbosman.nl/lego/no59.html
My new novel:
B♭ (Be Flat)
Dropping more content! 😃
(Still not finalized yet.)
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Scene: Madison Square Garden 2
A low murmur swept down the avenue in front of the Garden as a black lead sedan and a fleet of white motorcycle escorts slowly rolled in. Four armored limousines followed, flanked by NYPD and state police SUVs. Behind them trailed a line of communication trucks, ambulances, and news vans—no more than fifty vehicles in all, but the weight of their presence was overwhelming.
The motorcade moved as if traffic signals held no meaning. The street had been completely shut down, and the convoy advanced in perfect synchrony. Police radio chatter leaked from the vehicles, while the blocked-off sidewalks were crowded with reporters clutching cameras and riot police standing firm. Near the center, three jet-black SUVs carried CAT operatives, their eyes scanning the street like silent sentinels from behind suppressor-equipped rifles.
On top of the limousines, state-of-the-art jamming devices disrupted all outside signals. Trailing them was a “Roadrunner” communications command vehicle bristling with antennas, maintaining real-time encrypted communication with the command center beneath the Garden.
At the tail end were fire department rapid response units, a hazmat vehicle, and two ambulances. The arrival of a presidential candidate was no longer a mere movement—it was a military operation. The city responded like a living neural network, absorbing and adjusting to the convoy’s every move.
Onlookers lined the barricades—civilians raising smartphones overhead, and journalists with grim faces behind their lenses. No one spoke. The crowd stood in solemn silence, bathed in the red and blue pulses of rotating lights, watching as the procession swept past like a scene from a film. But this wasn’t a movie. The silence was real. No one dared crack a joke.
Sniper teams were stationed on rooftops around the Garden. Occasionally, the word “clear” crackled over the comms. Inside the building, only those who had passed facial recognition were permitted to take position. In the chilled surveillance room where Jack sat, hundreds of camera feeds rotated every few seconds across the screens.
Inside the presumed presidential limousine, darkness cloaked everything—no figures visible behind the glass. Yet everyone on-site knew those clear windows hid layers of invisible defense. That silence, designed to preserve life, carried with it a deadly order that blanketed the entire convoy.
Overhead, two Black Hawk helicopters glided in low and began to hover above the Garden. They were escape vessels, should the worst occur—but more than that, they were a reminder that this place was, for tonight, a battlefield.
In the command room on the Garden’s B3 level, Jack sat under the blue glow of the monitors, listening intently to the radio in his ear.
“Eagle has arrived. Parking complete on B3. Zebra point passed. T-minus 45 seconds to approach.”
The voice in his earpiece made him bite his lip unconsciously. The coffee in his cup had long gone cold.
Onscreen, the divided camera feeds displayed the barricades on Seventh Avenue, snipers in standby, and now—the black limousine sliding into the underground garage.
The air tightened. Time became tangible. The tick of the second hand grew louder in everyone’s ears. Jack’s fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the radio button.
Scene: Madison Square Garden 1
Jack shifted the donut box in his hand and pressed the button for B3. The air in the elevator was cold, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the lights descend. The contrast with the heat above made his vision blur slightly.
Stepping out, he turned right. Immediately on the left was the briefing room door, where a security man in a rumpled suit greeted him.
“Everyone’s already waiting.”
Jack stood before the sensor and calmly turned his face toward it. A few seconds later, a mechanical chime signaled access approval, and the heavy fireproof doors slid open.
Once inside, Jack offered a small smile.
“I brought donuts. Make sure everyone gets some later.”
The security man grinned behind his sunglasses.
Beyond the thick soundproof door, 32 monitors glowed blue in the dim room. Staff members moved briskly and silently between the machines. The hum of servers filled the space, punctuated only by the occasional alert. In the center was the commander’s seat, surrounded in a ring by workstations. The wall-sized screen displayed rapid live cuts from over 400 arena cameras—spectator stands, lobby, corridors, VIP lounge, loading dock, backstage, utility room, underground passages…
If a single rat appeared in those tunnels, they’d be able to track it straight to the sewers.
Jack sat in the commander’s chair and flipped the switch on the gooseneck mic in front of him. Its flexible neck trembled as the red indicator light came on.
“I’ve got donuts. Sorry, no glazed. There’s Boston Cream, Chocolate Frosted, Strawberry Frosted, and Old-Fashioned. No coffee, so grab your own.”
“Old-Fashioned for me,” came Ben’s voice from the loading dock. He adjusted the transparent tube of his earpiece and muttered into his collar.
Jack gave a faint smile, then grew serious again as he leaned toward the mic.
“Eagle is about to arrive. Entering through Ben’s loading dock. Three minutes to VIP room. Fifteen-minute briefing. Then onstage. Let me remind you—tonight marks the official nomination of the presidential candidate at the National Convention. First Republican convention held here in over twenty years. Also, his fiancée, Eleanor Blake, is with him. Stunning and brilliant. Try not to fall for her. The only ones you’re allowed to admire are bulky bruisers in tactical gear. And don’t forget, VP candidate Cole Harrison is here too—he’s the leash on our foul-mouthed Justin. No matter what he says, don’t punch back. I’ll be the one getting punched later.”
Jack checked his watch.
“One minute out. When Justin’s team heads home, dig into the donuts. Over and out.”
From the monitor showing the VIP lounge, Daryl spoke up behind him.
“Jack, better check in with Elijah at the hospital. Make sure he’s on standby.”
Without turning, Jack raised his hand and called out.
“Elijah, you copy? Daryl thinks you’re chilling at Starbucks.”
Laughter came through the speaker, followed by the chaotic background noise of Bellevue Hospital.
“Daryl, how’d you know? I was just thinking of getting Jack fired.”
Swiveling in his chair, Daryl laughed back at the screen.
“Let’s hope Justin doesn’t end up in your ER.”
Jack cut in.
“All stations, go. Justin’s here. Stick to the plan. Let’s move.”
———————————
Scene: Madison Square Garden 3 — Justin, Eleanor, Cole
The door of the limousine opened from within, and Justin Bradford stepped out with a short sigh.
“Damn. It’s suffocating down here. Even a stray dog would turn up its nose at this parking garage.”
He brushed off the hem of his suit jacket with one hand, casting a grimace toward the concrete gloom.
Vice presidential candidate Cole Harrison followed quietly behind. Eight years older than Justin, Cole had once stood by Justin’s father, Lysus Bradford—through every rally and protest, until the day Lysus, still registered as a Democrat, was gunned down by a sniper. Cole had admired Lysus deeply for his commitment to voicing the will of the unheard.
Justin yawned, wide and unfiltered. Cole spoke gently beside him.
“This was the safest option. Too many unknowns outside. It’s dangerous.”
“Cole, you’re the biggest unknown we’ve got.”
“And that makes two of us, Justin,” Cole replied with a small, knowing smile.
The click of white heels echoed faintly as Eleanor Blake stepped onto the stained concrete. She wore a pale beige coat over her dress and moved with quiet elegance. Though her brow creased slightly at the stagnant air, she quickly replaced it with a smile and walked toward Justin.
“Justin,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm, “no more jokes at the staff’s expense. These people would lay down their lives for you.”
Justin gave a small, lopsided smile and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
“For their sake, I better live up to it.”
Flanked by security, the three of them began walking down the dim corridor. Faint LED lights flickered overhead. Dirty walls, cold silence, and a chill that crept under their skin accompanied them.
“These hallways always get to me,” Justin muttered.
“I understand,” Eleanor said softly. “But this is the safest route.”
“That’s exactly why we should be grateful,” Cole added. “It’s this kind of space that protects us.”
Eventually, they reached the elevator reserved for dignitaries. The face recognition system chirped quietly as it confirmed their identities.
“Just a few more steps to the VIP lounge,” said one of the agents.
Justin glanced back at Eleanor and shrugged.
“Let’s shake the Garden tonight.”
She touched his arm lightly and smiled.
“I’m counting on you, Justin.”
The three of them stepped into the elevator, the doors closing quietly behind them as it carried them upward.
Scene: Totto Ramen — Ana, Mika, Motorcade
— Red, Yellow, Blue —
It was just after 7 p.m. when a light rain began to fall on East 52nd Street.
Ana leaned against the wall of an old building next to Totto Ramen, absently watching the changing traffic light at the intersection to her right. The air was heavy with humid heat clinging to the concrete, making even the pedestrians seem to move slower than usual.
The signal turned green. As she dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief and squinted into the distance, she spotted Kana on the far side of the crosswalk, waving and running toward her with a smile.
Then, suddenly, the air shifted.
From the far side of the intersection, a fleet of black SUVs glided in, soundless and ghostlike. In the few dozen seconds between the lead vehicle’s arrival and the armored limousine at the rear disappearing, the entire intersection was sealed off—no one passed.
As the convoy disappeared down the avenue, the signal changed again. Foot traffic resumed. The city inhaled.
Kana reemerged from the crowd and waved once more.
After wrapping up their exhibit, Ana and Mika had packed their gear into Mika’s car and headed into Manhattan. Ana’s husband, Arjun, worked at LuminaTech Innovations—a hybrid company based in Williamsburg specializing in AI, cloud services, and cybersecurity. Though it was his day off, he’d had a meeting in Hudson Yards and was on a separate schedule from Ana.
Totto Ramen was nearby, and ever since Mika had first brought her there, it had become a favorite for Ana and Arjun alike.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s been such a lovely day,” Mika said, slightly out of breath.
By “lovely,” she meant the two sharply dressed men from that morning, still lingering in their thoughts.
Ana answered with mild disinterest.
“Was it? That your type, Mika?”
Mika shrugged and smiled.
“Mm, I like someone close enough that I can run home to my parents if I need to.”
They laughed as they slid open the ramen shop’s wooden door and took seats at the counter. The place was bustling with Asian families enjoying their weekend. Familiar Japanese drifted from the far end of the counter.
Ana’s iPhone buzzed. It was a video call from Arjun.
She tapped the screen. His apologetic face appeared.
“The meeting’s running long. Go ahead and eat without me.”
Ana smiled gently.
“Be careful. A whole swarm of black cars just swept through here.”
Arjun responded immediately.
“They’re probably heading to the Garden. There’s supposed to be a Republican convention tonight. The candidate’s making his appearance.”
Mika, having caught the gist, nodded deeply.
“Yeah, it’s felt weird all day. The city’s tense—not your usual weekend.”
—————————————
Scene: Red Hook 1 — Amir and Rafi
Red Hook stood apart, even within Brooklyn.
Shielded by the shadows of skyscrapers, the red-brick warehouses, worn by wind and rain, groaned softly in the breeze. Each gust from the sea layered fresh salt onto the air, leaving streaks of rust blooming along the warehouse doors.
Beyond a broken fence, a long-unused warehouse door creaked open.
Amir stepped inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The smell of oil soaked into the concrete filled his nostrils.
“Let’s start here,” he said.
Rafi nodded without a word.
They had first come to this place five winters ago.
Having lost everything in Gaza at the hands of Israel, the two had fled legally through Egypt and Turkey, eventually arriving in Tapachula in southern Mexico. There, they made contact with a smuggler known as a coyote.
Rafi paid $12,000 per person to the traffickers—using cryptocurrency hacked through North Korean channels. The coins had been stolen through a North Korea–linked hacking syndicate. Amir wrote the code himself and erased all trace of the transaction. They had crossed borders not with blood, but with digits.
Later, under cover of night, they slipped beneath a border fence and entered the United States by land.
The night sky over Texas was a shade of dark blue they had never seen before. Low and clear, the deep blue held a fleeting kind of hope. But that hope was far outweighed by the hatred that had taken root in their hearts.
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Set in New York City.
1
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
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Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Saipan. USA. 2016. LUMIX G3 shot … 3 / X
サイパン。アメリカ。２０１６。LUMIX G3 shot … 3 / X
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
さらに投下します。😃
(まだ決定ではありません。)
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場面 マディソンスクエアガーデン２
ガーデン正面の通りがわずかにざわめき、先導の黒いセダンと白バイク隊がゆっくりと進入してきた。次いで装甲に覆われたリムジンが４台つづき、市警と州警のSUVがその脇を固め、後方には通信車両、救急車、そして報道バンの列…… 全部でざっと５０台にも満たないが、その重厚感は圧倒的だった――。
車列は信号すら意味をなさず、完全に遮断された通りを、隊列の呼吸に従って前進していく。警察無線の交信が車外に漏れ、通行止めの歩道にはカメラを構えた記者と機動隊員が混じり合っていた。中腹には「CAT」と呼ばれる武装部隊が乗る漆黒のSUVが３台並び、サプレッサー付きライフルを持った隊員が、まるで車内から通りをスキャンするように視線を動かしている。
リムジンの天井には、最新の妨害電波装置が搭載され、外部通信を一時的に遮断する。さらにその後方を、アンテナが林立した“ロードランナー”と呼ばれる通信司令車が追走し、ガーデン地下の指揮室とリアルタイムで暗号通信を続けている。
車列の最後尾には消防局の緊急対応車、化学物質対応車、そして２台の救急車が控えていた。大統領候補がこの都市に足を踏み入れるというのは、もはや“移動”ではなく、“軍事行動”のようだった。街全体が、ひとつの生きた神経網のように、その動線を受け止めていた。
歩道の柵沿いには、スマートフォンを高く掲げる市民と、顔を強張らせた報道カメラマンたちが入り混じっていた。群衆は押し黙り、ただエンジンのうなりと回転灯の光に照らされながら、目の前を通り過ぎる車列を見守っていた。まるで映画のワンシーンのようだが、空気は静まり返り、誰一人として軽口を叩く者はいない。
ガーデン周辺の屋上には狙撃班が配備され、時折、無線越しに「クリア」の声が交錯した。建物内の全階層には顔認証を通過した要員だけが配置され、冷房の効いたジャックのいる監視室では、数百台のカメラ映像が数秒ごとに切り替わっている。
大統領候補が乗ると目されるリムジンの車内は暗く、ガラス越しに人影すら映らない。だが、その曇りのない窓には、目に見えない幾重もの防御層が仕込まれていることを、現場の誰もが理解していた。命を守るために設計された沈黙と、殺気を孕んだ秩序が、車列全体を覆っている。
背後から、２機のブラックホークが上空をなめるように飛来し、ガーデンの屋上でホバリングを始めた。万が一の脱出手段であり、また、この場が“戦場”であることを暗に示す存在だった。
ジャックは、ガーデン地下三階の指令室で、モニターの青白い光に顔を照らされながら、無線に耳を傾けていた。
「イーグル、地下駐車場レベルB3にて停車完了。ポイント・ゼブラ通過。接近までTマイナス45秒」
耳元のイヤーピースから流れるその声に、彼は無意識に唇を噛んだ。手元のカップに入ったコーヒーは、すでにぬるくなっていた。
モニターには分割されたカメラ映像がずらりと並んでいる。第七通りのバリケード、スタンバイ中の狙撃手、そして今、地下駐車場の入口に黒いリムジンが滑り込む様子が映し出されていた。
空気が一気に張り詰めた。誰もが秒針の音を意識し始め、静寂の中に微かな緊張が走った。ジャックの指が、わずかに震えながらも無線の送信ボタンに触れた。
場面 マディソンスクエアガーデン１
エレベーターに乗ったジャックは、手にしたドーナツの箱を持ち替えると、地下三階へのボタンを押した。冷房の効いたエレベーター内で下っていくランプを見上げたまま、額の汗を拭った。熱した地上からの温度差で多少視界が滲んでいた。
降りて、右手に行くと、すぐ左側にブリーフィングルームの扉があり、よれたスーツを着たセキュリティーの男性がジャックに挨拶した。
「みなさん、もうお待ちですよ」
ジャックはセンサーの前に立ち、静かに顔を向けた。数秒後、「アクセス承認」の電子音とともに、重たい防火扉が左右に開いた。
クリアするとジャックは、口元を緩めていった。
「ドーナツ買ってきたよ。あとでみんなで食べてくれ」
セキュリティーの男性は、白い歯を見せ、サングラス越しに微笑んだ。
厚い防音扉を越えると、薄暗い空間に32面のモニターが青白く光っていた。スタッフが機器の合間を縫って、言葉少なに忙しなく行き交っていく。室内には低く唸るサーバーの音と、時折アラート音だけが響いている。部屋の中央には指揮官席、その周囲に円を描くように並んだワークステーション。壁面いっぱいの巨大スクリーンには、アリーナ内400台以上のカメラがライブ映像を忙しなく切り替え、流し続けている。客席、ロビー、通路、VIPラウンジ、搬入口、ステージ裏、電気設備室、地下通路….
もしも地下通路にねずみが一匹現れたら、下水溝まで追跡できるはずだ。
ジャックは指揮官席に腰を下ろし、前方に据え付けられたグースネックマイクのスイッチを押した。しなる首元がわずかに揺れ、赤いインジケーターが点灯した。
「みんな、ドーナツを買ってきた。残念ながらグレーズドは売り切れだった。ボストンクリーム、チョコフロステッド、ストロベリーフロステッド、オールドファッション、以上だ。コーヒーもないからな。勝手に飲むように」
「ジャック、俺はオールドファッションな」
搬入口にいるベンが、耳に伸びたセキュリティイヤピースの透明なチューブを整えながら、襟元に指を添え、モニター越しに呟いた。
ジャックは軽く微笑み返してから、声を整え、目の前のマイクに向かって、真剣に伝えた。
「まもなく、イーグルがやってくる。ベンのいる搬入口から入り、３分でVIPルームへ。１５分の打ち合わせ後、アリーナへ登壇する。もう一度確認するが、今夜は大統領候補の指名が正式に確定する全国党大会だ。共和党は、２０年以上振りにここで開催するらしい。それから、フィアンセのエリノア・ブレイクもいっしょだ。容姿端麗な才女だ。見惚れるなよ。お前らが見惚れていいのは筋肉隆々の荒くれものだけだ。さらに副大統領候補のコール・ハリソンもいっしょだ。口の悪いジャスティンのお目付役だ。何を言われても決して殴り返すな。俺があとで殴られるからな」
ジャックは腕時計を見た。
「あと１分で到着だ。ジャスティン一行が帰宅したら、ドーナツをたらふく食べてくれ。以上だ」
画面左側に映ったVIPラウンジに見入っていたダリルが、ジャックの背中にいった。
「ジャック、病院のイライジャにも確認したほうがいい。ちゃんと待機しているようにってね」
ジャックは背を向けたまま、腕を上げて返答するとイライジャに問いかけた。
「聞こえるか、イライジャ。お前がスタバでくつろいでると疑われてるぞ、ダリルに」
イライジャは、笑いながら即答した。背後に、ベルビュー病院内の忙しないアナウンスが走っている。のんびりしたイライジャの声とは正反対だ。
「ダリル、なんでばれた？ そろそろジャックの首を飛ばそうと思ってさ」
椅子を回転させたダリルは、右手のモニターに目を落としながら、イライジャに笑いながらいった。
「お前のところに、ジャスティンが運ばれないことを祈るよ」
ジャックは、二人の会話を遮った。
「全員、スタートだ。ジャスティンが到着した。打ち合わせどおりに。頼んだぞ」
場面 マディソンスクエアガーデン３ ジャスティン、エリノア、コール
リムジンのドアが内側から開き、ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードは短くため息をついて足を踏み出した。
「まったく、息が詰まるな。地下駐車場なんて、野良犬でも嫌がる」
スーツの裾を片手で乱暴に払いつつ、顔をしかめて辺りを見回した。その後ろから、副大統領候補のコール・ハリソンが静かに車を降りた。彼はジャスティンより8歳年上だったが、かつてはその父、ライサス・ブラッドフォードのもとで行動を共にし、彼が民主党に籍を置き、狙撃により命を落とすその時まで、傍らで支え続けていた。ライサスが声なき国民の想いを代弁しようとする姿に、コールは深い感銘を受けていた。
大きなあくびをこぼしたジャスティンに、コールは穏やかに言った。
「セキュリティ上の最善策だ。外は、あまりにも不確定要素が多い。危険だ」
「コールの言動の方がよほど先が読めないけどね」
「ジャスティン、そのままお前に返すよ」
ジャスティンの皮肉に、コールは軽く微笑みながら冷静に返した。
エリノア・ブレイクの白いハイヒールが、駐車場の暗いコンクリートに静かに降りた。淡いベージュのコートを羽織った彼女は、ヒールの音も控えめに、優雅に車外へ降り立った。地下の濁った空気に微かに眉を寄せながらも、すぐに笑みを浮かべ直し、ジャスティンに歩み寄った。
「ジャスティン、スタッフにつまらない冗談はやめてね。みんな、あなたのために命を投げ出す人たちよ」
彼女の声は柔らかいが、芯のあるものだった。
ジャスティンは少し顔をほころばせ、エリノアの頬に軽いキスをした。
「命か…なら、俺もその期待に応えないとな」
セキュリティーに囲われた三人は地下駐車場の薄暗い通路へと歩みを進めた。所々薄汚れた壁と天井のLEDライトが冷たく落ちている。冷たさと静寂が辺りを覆っている。
「この手の通路は、いつ見ても気が滅入るな」
ジャスティンが呟いた。
「気持ちはわかるけど、ここが最も安全なルートよ」エリノアが柔らかく返す。コールが間を埋めるように言った。
「こうした環境だからこそ、私たちが守られている。感謝するべきだ」
しばらく歩くと、要人専用エレベーターの前に到着した。壁の顔認証システムが稼働し、認証音が静かに鳴った。
「VIPルームまであと少しです」
セキュリティーのひとりがジャスティンらに告げた。
ジャスティンは背後のエリノアをちらりと見て、肩をすくめていった。
「今夜、ガーデンを震わそう」
エリノアが彼の腕に軽く触れ、優しく笑いかけた。
「期待してるわ、ジャスティン」
三人は静かにエレベーターに乗り込み、VIPルームへと向かった。
場面 トットラーメン アナ、ミカ、車列
—— 赤、黄色、青 ——
イースト52丁目に小雨が舞い始めたのは、午後七時を少し過ぎた頃だった。
アナは、トットラーメンの隣にある古いビルの壁面にもたれ、右手に見える十字路の信号をぼんやりと眺めていた。蒸し返すような湿気がコンクリートにまとわりつき、行き交う人々の足取りもどこか重たかった。
信号が青に変わった。額の汗をハンカチで拭いながら、アナが目を細めると、十字路の向こうにカナの姿が見えた。彼女は手を振りながら、笑顔でこちらに駆け出してくる。
そのとき、空気がふいに変わった。十字路の向こうから、黒いSUVの車列が音もなく滑り込んできた。先頭車両の到着から、最後尾の装甲リムジンが去るまでの数十秒間、交差点は完全に封鎖され、誰も通ることができなかった。
車列が去ると、信号が切り替わり、ふたたび人の流れが戻り、動き出した。
カナがその人波の中からふたたび現れ、手を振った。
展示を終えたアナたちは、ミカの車に荷物を積み終えたあと、マンハッタンへ移動していた。
アナの夫アルジュンは、ウィリアムズバーグにあるAI・クラウド・サイバーセキュリティを手がける複合企業「ルミナテック・イノベーションズ」に勤めている。今日は休日だったが、彼だけハドソンヤードで会議があり、アナらとは別行動だった。
トットラーメンはその近くにあり、以前ミカに連れてきてもらってから、アナたち夫婦のお気に入りになっていた。
「おまたせ。今日は朝から素敵だったね」
息を切らせながら駆け寄ったミカが、そう言った。
“素敵”というのは、今朝の高級スーツをまとった二人の男のことだ。
アナは興味なさそうに答えた。
「そうね。ミカはああいう男性が好み？」
ミカは首をすくめ、笑って言った。
「うーん、かなり遠い存在かな。私は、すぐ実家に帰れるくらいの距離感が好き」
二人は笑い合いながら、ラーメン店の引き戸を開け、カウンターに並んで腰掛けた。店内は週末のため、アジア系の家族で賑わっていた。ミカの聞き慣れた日本語が遠くのカウンターから聞こえてくる。
アナのiPhoneが震えた。アルジュンからのビデオ通話だった。
画面をタッチすると、アルジュンが申し訳なさそうな表情で映った。
「会議が延びてる。少し遅れるから、先に食べててくれ」
アナは、静かに答えた。
「気をつけて来てね。さっきすごい車の軍団が流れていったわよ」
アルジュンは、即答した。
「今日はガーデンで、共和党の大会があるらしい。次期大統領候補が立つらしいよ」
傍で聞いていたミカが深々と頷きながら、同意した。
「なんか朝から物々しいのよね。いつもの週末と違うわ」
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場面 レッドフック１ アミール、ラフィ
レッドフックは、ブルックリンの中でも異質だった。
高層ビルの影に守られ、風雨に洗われた赤レンガの倉庫と錆びた港湾クレーンが、風に軋んでいる街だ。やってくる潮の匂いが重なるたびに上塗りされ、倉庫の鉄の扉に赤錆を浮かせていく。
鍵の壊れたフェンスの向こう、何年も使われていなかった倉庫の扉が静かに開いた。
アミールは一歩踏み入れ、光のない空間に目を慣らした。コンクリートに染み込んだ油の臭いが鼻をついた。
「ここから始めよう」
その声に、ラフィが黙って頷いた。
ふたりが初めてここにやってきたのは５年前の冬だ。イスラエルによってガザ地区ですべてを失った二人は、合法的にエジプトからトルコを経由し、メキシコの南部タパチュラへ行き、コヨーテと呼ばれる密入国請負人と接触した。ラフィは密入国業者へ一人あたり１２，０００ドルを支払った。すべて、北朝鮮経由でハッキングした仮想通貨での支払いだ。金の出どころは、北朝鮮系ハッカー集団を通じて奪ったコインだった。アミールの手でコードが組まれ、記録は消された。彼らは、血を流さずに数字を流して国境を超えたのだ。その後、国境のフェンスを夜に潜り、陸路でアメリカに入った。
テキサスの夜空は、彼らが見たことのないほど青黒かった。低く、澄んだ深い青の美しさは、彼らの胸にいくらかの希望を与えていたが、それ以上に憎しみの強さが上回っていた。
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これまでのメモ
1
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
舞台はニューヨークです。
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
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メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop
Image is inspired by a photo of: Suzanne's stream - Suzanne
Once a quiet riverside village nestled in medieval Germany, the city has awakened beneath plumes of steam and the turning of brass gears. Now known as Aetherstadt, this reimagined town hums with mechanical life — its timber-framed homes laced with copper piping, towers crowned with clockwork spires, and mighty airships drifting across the smoky sky.
This piece is a heavily transformed steampunk tribute, inspired by traditional European architecture but reborn through an alternate industrial fantasy lens. From the glowing lanterns to the rhythmic churning of smokestacks, The Gears of Aetherstadt captures the tension between nostalgia and invention.
Done in Mystic 2.5
✨ Created with care