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Forgive the redness - this photo is a real rarity. The mechanical Frito Kid's second location at Disneyland. (Watch out for those serape-wearing manikins up in the rafters!)
More about the Frito Kid on my blog: miehana.blogspot.com/2008/05/man-of-la-muncha_11.html
Forgive me folks for the radio silence! After Anime Expo I came back to Japan to prepare for Anime Festival Asia Indonesia and during that period I had to look for bigger offices and then move in.
After coming back from Indonesia we had to work on and ship the current outstanding orders of Smart Doll.
Moving office was a huge life project that took up a load of time - it was not possible to focus on the move, the business and update the site at the same time. I did manage to post regular quick updates to my social networks Facebook, Twitter and Instagram though.
I wanted to post a quick update before I start to catch up on writing with a photo of our office just after 6PM. All staff have knocked off and I'm about to head home too.
View more at www.dannychoo.com/en/post/27225/Tokyo+Photo+Walk+2014+09....
The fabulous Inna Modja from her gig in the Big Red Tent at this year's WOMAD Festival at Charlton Park.
You can see more pics of her in my Inna Modja set.
My sincere thanks are due to Inna Modja for giving her permission for me to photograph all of her set.
Check out the videos for some of her songs here: www.innamodja.com/Videos#content
You can see my WOMAD 2016 shots here: WOMAD 2016
You can see my WOMAD 2015 shots here: WOMAD 2015
You can see my WOMAD 2014 shots here: WOMAD 2014
You can see my WOMAD 2013 shots here: WOMAD 2013
You can see my WOMAD 2012 shots here: WOMAD 2012
You can see my WOMAD 2011 shots here: WOMAD 2011
You can see my WOMAD 2010 shots here: WOMAD 2010
You can see my WOMAD 2009 shots here: WOMAD 2009
My thanks are also due to Dee McCourt of Borkowski PR for arranging my photo pass.
Please forgive the grain. . . graaaaaains!
*Ahem* Let me start over.
Please forgive the quality of the photo. Do you have any idea how hard it is to snap a picture when the ONLY ambient light is coming off the glow in the dark zombies?
Lecture given at the Dragon Theatre, Barmouth 7th Sept 1982 by The Venerable Wallis Hugh Wallis Thomas MA, Archdeacon of Merioneth
In the manner of the radio programme “Round Britain Quiz” I start with a question “What have Barmouth, Guernsey, Claremont and Chislehurst in common?” The answer is “MUCH , as I hope to have shown you before I sit down”
“When I was a young man preparing for the ministry I read French, or tried to, and when I tell you that the little corner I made for myself was Rabelais”!
“If you know anything at all about Rabelaisian humour, you will want to say to me, what on earth possessed you to read that bawdy stuff more suited to Mr Benny Hill than to an apprentice Curate?”
Well there you are, French it was.
“And so when I came to Barmouth in 1946, and heard about this Frenchman’s Grave, I began to take notice…
But could I find anything about him, no. Not even his name.
I spent many happy evenings in those days at the Sailor’s Institute with company around the stove, with John Jones stoking the furnace every 5 minutes as if he had been stoking the Queen Mary.
The old familiar faces in the room, they’ve all crossed the ferry now to a fairer Bourne, (Forgive the pun my dear listener!)
(We pay for our advancing years, do we not in the precious coin of departed friends). Well among the departed friends was Walter Pugh – a baker by profession. Dear Walter!! Grannies boy if ever there was one. He doted on her and was always quoting her “Nain” he said to me one evening “I knew Garibaldi” and then in deference to my cloth, he whispered in my ear “ he never went to church, you know” “In fact (looking round) a bit of an unbeliever”.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I have come here this evening to redress the balance and to show you, before I finish that, in Auguste Guyard (for such was our hero’s name) we have, without any question, one of the really great spirits of the 19th century and an immortal soul who is more likely to keep the recording angel busy with his good deeds than many a conventional observer of our church and chapel pews.
Now, in the course of time, I came to hear of a certain Mrs Lilly who lived in Arthog in the 1890’s who claimed to be the last of our hero’s disciples. She also claimed to be in descent from the Wynn’s of Gwydir. Auguste was her star and caller her his Deodata. (Latin for Gift of God) Deodata- God’s gift to me. What price “unbelievers” now?
Mrs Lilly had many of our Frenchman’s memorabilia, especially a picture of Lamartine, which he gave her. I will tell you about Lamartine in a minute, all I need to tell you now is that Albhouse de Lamartine, Guyard’s closes friend is to the French what Keats or Shelley is to us, a poet to rank with the immortals. He turned to politics in his middle years and for a brief period was head of the provisional government of 1848.
Do you see that was the sort of company that our refugee of the rock kept you know a man by his friends.
Well, how did I find Mrs Lilly? The answer is through the good offices of a Doctor E.J. Jones, minister of a Baptist chapel in Wrexham for many years and once president of the Baptist Union of Wales – a man still freshly remembered and honoured. Jones had read an article by Blanche Afluvon called “Ruskin’s Social Experiment at Barmouth” He was on the trail at once. It was 1921 he wrote a letter to the mayor of Vesoul in France, a city now of some 150,000 people, it is and was the administrative capital of the Haute Saone. A department of France near the eastern border with Germany and Switzerland and not very far away from Bãle.
“Can you tell me anything?” he wrote “about a certain Auguste Guyard?” Well by chance – oh happy chance! there was to be a wedding in the Mayor’s parlour in Vesoul in three days’ time – and who should sign the register but a captain Hauant! And who was Captain Hauant? You ask (I hope) None other than a grandson of Auguste Guyard. The gallant captain replied at once (Toulon la Balinese?) giving Dr Jones the address of his mother Mde Hanant who was living then in Mendou, a suburb of Paris. She was the last surviving child of Auguste Guyard.
What I am going to give you now is what she gave to Dr E K Jones.
Ann Lew-as I like to call him – was born in Frotey, a little village about two miles from Vesoul. It was the 8th Sept 1808.
His father and grandfather were gardeners, or rather, market gardeners of some standing in their little world. Now is this important, to the real gardener, as Wordsworth knew:” The meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for fears”
His mother came (I refuse to say “from a better family”- are n’t we all God’s children, for goodness sake?); let us say then from a family rather higher in the pecking order. A member of the family was General Lyautey, Marshall of France, governor of Morocco and founder, if I am not mistaken of the Foreign Legion. Beau Geste and all that. Oh yes! That old man was a somebody but, like Gallio in the Acts of the Apostle,” he cared for none of these things”.
His mother, bless her heart! wanted him to be a priest, noble aspiration. Sent him to the local Seminary where he read Theology and Philosophy but after confronting his teachers with a mind just as nimble as theirs, he soon found that the soutane and the Biretto and the Sanctus bell were not for him. It was goodbye to all that. He took up teaching, and if teachers, my dear audience are born up there as I think they are, their Heaven never sent a better one than Auguste Guyard and to these glimpses of the moon.
He started in a modest way coaching in the local stately mansions, when he was 27 he married a young woman of Verona and this young couple set up home in Paris. All his pleasure in those early years was the company of scholars, learning the principles of education, teaching himself and writing to the newspapers.
From 1840 – 1845 we find him in Roause, on the Loire, not very far from St Etienne & Lyon – or should I say Lions?
He had n’t been there long before they clapped him in gaol. But what for? This “Gwerinwr” as we say in Welsh (Try to translate that if you can!) The nearest I can get is “this man of the people”. A convict? But what had he done to offend society? ……. disbelief: he had written an article in the local paper (called Le Moqes de las Loue) on “the rights of the worker” And to do that don’t you see, was not exactly a passport to happiness in the France of Louis Philippe, king of the French from 1830 to 1848.
I don’t think he got hard labour or whatever the French did for picking oakum or sewing mail bags, because many of the best people in France called to see him in the cells, among them Lamartine.
And now, wait for it, I come to that point in this man’s painful pilgrimage. When this son of Barmouth (as we may claim him to be) played a part in this history of France, and a crucial part too. When he came out of prison it was he, Auguste Guyard, who edited for many years Lamartine’s Newspaper “Le Bien Public” which did as much as anything or anybody to dethrone Louis Philippe and to bring about the Revolution of 1848. That is the stature of the man you are honouring today by your presence (by the way LP died an exile in Claumont).
Now, on the return of the Empire in 1852, when Napoleon 111 came to the throne (he, by the way was a nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte and it was under him that France was Britain’s ally in the Crimean War). In 1852 then August Guyard gave up politics or, shall I say party politics. He was too much a gentleman for that sort of thing. Mr Macmillan’s” Night of the Long Knives” would not have suited his gentle ways at all.
But “politics - the art, the science of living together in sweetness & light. Politics in that sense “yes”. He was utterly consumed with the ambition to lift the people from their miseries and to free them from the shackles (as he thought) of the Papacy.
But the aim and ideas were not enough; he must give them flesh and blood. He must start his own Utopia in his own little Frotey (and so he did).
He would make his native village the pattern for all the villages of France. And that was some job I can tell you, because that part of France (called La Franche Comte) then had been under the Spanish Crown and the jurisdiction of Rome for 200 years.
How did he start? Well he wrote a series of letter to his fellow villagers. He called them “Lettres aux, Gem de Frotey (Letters to the people of Frotey) in which he outlined his plan. You wouldn’t say there was anything new in them but they were new to the Gem de Frotey indeed. They were a revelation. “Look”, he said to them, “brains are not everything, but character is”. “The man who pushes the pen is no more the elect of God,” he told them, “than the man who mucks out the cow shed”. “If God planted a garden in Eden, then the man who plies the spade has a divinity about him that no King or priest can take away”. There is much more like that – about the dignity of human labour “And” he told them “don’t you believe everything that the priests tell you! Test everything: Prove everything”! And, if you say to me dear listener,” bit of a rebel, was n’t he?” Well, I suppose he was. But he was in good company, the company of no less a person than St Paul, the great Apostle to the Gentiles who in his first letter to the Thessalonians wrote “Prove everything, hold fast to that which is good”
His little Utopia was launched. His little Commune.
And now, my dear listener, marvel with us at the ways of Providence, at the way in which men, who are strangers to one another but compelled by the spirit of the age, are seized at the same time with the same idea and cannot rest until they are thought to be with, ……Loweau?? painfully.
In 1871 only 6 years after the Letter to the People of Frotey, our own John Ruskin was writing his famous monthly letters to the Workmen of England, blazing the same trail. He called them “For Clausiquera??? - Latin for Fortune with a key in her hand” The same gospel again! – the redress of poverty & misery.
“For my own part” he writes, “I will put up with this state of things not an hour longer. I simply cannot paint or read, nor look at missals nor do anything else that I like because of the misery that I know of and see signs of where I know it not”
But come back to Frotey, Auguste Guyard’s little Utopia – his “Commune Modile” as he called it, popped the Champagne. It was heady stuff. The people loved it, the intoxication spread to the neighbouring villages. They had a kind of Eisteddfod. They had prizes, not for beating other people as is the way in out Welsh vales but (oh! I like this!) for industry: for improvement, for perseverance,
Those were happy days for our Frenchman. Fortune smiles. The best in the land came to see him and became his friends, Alexandre Dumas (who had not read “The Three Musketeers” and the Count of Monte Carlo”?, Victor Hugo, the greatest of them all. Did …never read “Les Miserables” or the “Hunchback of Notre Dame”? Poor Victor – for 19 years an exile in Guernsey – for the love of Liberty and do you know what he did before his self-imposed banishment? He had a white Persian cat which he loved . Before he left home he gave it into the safe keeping of Auguste Guyard and his wife and if you also are a lover of these marvellous creatures, you will know that this was a mask of the kind of passion which Byron once described as “love without his wings” and there were other friends, now exalted still, who came to see him. Napoleon 111 became, Emperor of the French. He also was to die in exile in Chislehurst, Kent after his defeat in the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. What a tale of man’s inhumanity to man this is! Napoleon gave Guyard a gold medal. as some kind of reward for his labour. His son Eugene, the Prince Imperial, gave him a silver one.
These were brilliant days but clouds were to come. The parish priest of Frotey, in the spirit of the Inquisition raised the alarm. His superiors answered his “Tallyho” and the chase was on for this poor haunted man whose only offence had flouted the magesterium of the Church with this nonsense about enlightenment.
By now the 1870 war had broken out between France and Prussia. Poor Auguste was too poor. He fled to Paris and when Paris was besieged to these islands, home of so many lost causes.
But how did he come to Barmouth for goodness sake?
I’ll tell.
Living in Barmouth then, in Ty’n y Ffynnon on our Barmouth rocks was a Mrs Talbot, an intelligent woman and a philanthropist. Her husband was a brother of the Earl of Shrewsbury, the premier earl of England. The family name is Chetwynd –Talbot. One member of the family, if I am not mistaken, was Edward Stuart Talbot, the first Principal of Keeble College, Oxford and later Bishop of Winchester. His son was the beloved Gilbert Talbot, founder of Toc H. We live, do we not, in no mean city.
Well, Mrs Talbot‘s son went to Paris. He studied painting there and fine art, at whose feet, may I ask? At the feet of none other than Annette Guyard, our hero’s daughter. He married her and when she died in the passage of time, he married her sister too! That, don’t you see, is how our Frenchmen came to Barmouth – through his daughter’s marriage.
It was through her that he found a home in Wales and a grave. And it was through her that he came to know Ruskin. They met at least twice to my knowledge. Oh what would I not have given to offer my services (with my little French) my services as an interpreter between great men. The author of the letters to the People of Frotey and the writer of the Letters to the Workmen of Britain, twin souls – if … there were such things.
At this time, 1871, Ruskin had just founded the Guild of St George, his English Commune module (still surviving in my earliest from here?????) – founded (I quote) on the principles that “food can only be got out of the ground and happiness out of poverty “and “that the highest wisdom and the highest treasure need not be costly or exclusive”.
Mrs Talbot gave a number of her houses on the Rock to launch the venture and one of these, 2 Rock terrace, she gave to the refuge of Frotey, and there he spent the last twelve years of his life. Lonely among strangers. Imagine the difference, if you can, between the lights of the Champs Elysees and our own little Aberamffra!!.
Did I say lonely? Well not altogether. He had a beloved sheep dog , " Cara ", by name. With her at his heels, he loved to walk these Welsh hills, his long grey coat around him and a red fez on his white locks – thinking his long thoughts. One summer he tamed a jackdaw and a hawk that would roost every night in the rafters of his attic, and when he clapped his hands all the birds of the air would fly on his summons.
I told you, did I not, that he was a gardener’s son. Well imagine a gardener, a clay zone, confronted today by the shaley rock of the Harlech Dome. But never mind! Our refugee made of that inhospitable soil a school and a paradise, which were the talk of the town. And he remained a teacher to the end. He taught the women of Barmouth to make a vegetable soup, which remained one of the gastronomic delights of Merioneth.
(Oh, by the way) He taught them French, and here I must do a little debunking:
When Auguste Guyard came to Barmouth in 1879 there was a 12-year-old boy living in Llwyn Gloddaeth . He was Robert Owen, Bardd y Mor, as we know him in Wales – the poet of the sea. He had been born in Tai Croesion, Llanaber (in 1858) a home made beautiful today by Miss Vera Hooper.
Sir O M Edwards the author of one of the delightful little books, which were the joy of Wales so long ago, refers to our Frenchman as the teacher who taught Robert Owen four languages, French, Greek, Spanish and Italian. But I’m sorry to have to puncture that inflated story, but I must or I do so on the authority of Ande Havaut herself. “I knew Robert Owen well “so she wrote to Dr E K Jones “he was an audacious student, but my father would hardly have taught him all these languages, except French of course, because he didn’t know them!!” And she must be right.
In 1879 when he was only 20 we find Robert Owen in Australia where he had gone for his health and there he died of (that awful) consumption some six months later.
Did a young man of 20 take 6 languages with him to the Continent of the Southern Cross (Star) the former I have mentioned and Welsh and English into the bargain? I don’t think so!
His belief was:-
God in the Universe and God and man and animals and water and air, birds and fish are a fusion of minds, body and spirit. Life is everywhere abundant and life is holy. He would never hurt anybody or anything because he would be hurting himself. We are all brothers and sisters, we must love all plants, we must cherish all animals. They are part of ourselves. That was his philosophy. He made a great stir in Barmouth. One of his books (now you listen to this) (dear Barmouth audience) one of his books, showing this creed, called “Rights and Duties,” came into the hands of Leo Tolstoy (I can call him, can I not? The world’s supreme novelist). Now in 1894 Tolstoy’s daughter wrote as follows “my father was absorbed by this book and confirmed that he had profited greatly by it. He would read it every day to us. He even sent it to Moscow to be translated”
Journeys end ladies and gentlemen, came to this great soul on the 27th of August 1882. He was nearly 74. he knew that he was dying and the evening before he dies he put together the legend, that most moving legend that you may read today at the spot where what was mortal of him lies in the soil that he loved so well: -
Ci git un Semeur qui (john gardener)
Sema jusqu’au tombeau
Le vrai, le Bien, le Beau
Avec idolatire.
A travers mille combats
De la plume et des bras,
Tels travaux en ce monde
Ne se compensent pas.
There is an echo there of St Paul in his lowly letter to the Philippians.
Before I finish let me say to you Canon Hardwicke Rawnlseys’ translation of the French epitaph.
Here lies a man who toiled with pen and spade
Who went forth sowing and with all his might
Brought, from the dawn until the sunset light
And so from Banevi rock on Eden made
Who swore all fruits and all things pure B? and
Of all things beautiful this gentle knight
Still faced the storm and battled with trade the
And bled ….ingly his heave blight
In this high crag beloved of him, he gave
His outworn body …. To the weed
Of some wild saxifrage would kindly grow
Above his ashes laid in peace below
He little thought that from his hermit grave
Would bloom, for aye, Loves’ Universal Seed.
Ladies and Gentlemen:-
Allow me please to say to the gentle spirit of Auguste Guyard, wherever in God’s wide world he may be today
“Salute, mon amie, au revioir, merci. May we all meet some day in that land where exile itself is banished, where none … the faces of the poor, when faith reigns and where good men come to their reward”.
Daw yr holl wybodaeth hyn o archif fy 'nhyfaill / my good friend , Leslie Darbyshire , " Bwlch Vane " has provided this archive.
17 July 2018. Moorefield Road dumping. The large red door is the Tottenham Fire Station in St Loy's Road.
________________________________
"But the first thing next morning we reflected
If one by one we counted people out
For the least sin, it wouldn't take us long
To get so we had no one left to live with.
For to be social is to be forgiving."
(From the poem 'The Star-Splitter", by Robert Frost.)
forgive me for I have sinned. I have cheated on my wife - kissed another girl. I have a thing for long sexy necks. And everyone knows animal patterns are so in fashion right now. How could I refuse?
Kenya - you rock - I hope to be back (on vacation) sometime soon. I know Helen here will be waiting for me (and by then she'll be legal since I found out after our lustrous affair that she is only 17...)
forgive yourself for placing your heart in careless hands
forgive yourself for being open and trusting
forgive yourself for the days when your body felt so heavy you couldn't get out of bed
forgive yourself for countless hours spent in bars trying to numb the pain with alcohol and cigarettes
forgive yourself for forgetting to eat for three days in a row
forgive yourself for engaging in conversations with awful strangers because you're lonely
forgive yourself for taking a double dose of a sleeping pill so you can float aimlessly in darkness for a few hours longer
forgive yourself for cursing at the fictitiously happy relationships that flicker on your tablet screen late at night when the pills can't close your eyes
forgive yourself for tearing up all your old sketchbooks and journals
forgive yourself for curling up in a ball and weeping in huge shuddering sobs under the covers
forgive yourself for not doing laundry, washing dishes, or caring about your appearance
forgive yourself for how you used your hurt to hurt someone else
forgive yourself for allowing yourself to be hurt by someone else
forgive yourself for shutting yourself off from relationships out of fear of abandonment
forgive yourself for creating a superficial version of you that you present to the world
forgive yourself for not accomplishing your goals, even the small ones
forgive yourself from comparing every flaw in yourself to every perfection in another
forgive yourself for the irrational fears that clog your brain on a daily basis
forgive yourself for not being able to smile through it all
forgive yourself for not knowing where you are, who you are, or where your belong
forgive yourself for not understanding why this is happening.
© Luís Campillo 2015
Model Eider.
http://kiwiconcucharanomata.tumblr.com
Hasselblad SWC + Biogon 38mm + CFV-50.
luiscampillo.tumblr.com/
instagram.com/luiscampillo/
Al Ghafur ﺍلغفور
The Forgiver and hider of faults.
Remember the time when We said:
“Enter this land, and eat of its food as you may desire, abundantly;
but enter the gate humbly and say,
“Remove Thou from us the burden of our sins,”
whereupon we shall forgive you your sins,
and shall amply reward the doers of good.
Al –Baqarah 2:58, tr. Asad
XIII. Jesus Forgives the Repentant Thief
A small-scale tabletop tableau (mounted on a small one-square-meter-sized processional andas) of Jesus Forgives the Repentant Thief (cf. Luke 23:39–43). Also the 11th Station of the New (Scriptural) Way of the Cross.
"Little Mercies: Miniature Images of Faith" was the Museo di Don Bosco's special exhibition for the Lenten Season of 2020, which opened on Ash Wednesday February 26th and was to run until Viernes Dolores (Friday of Sorrows) April 3rd.
The images in this exhibit consist of small-scale processional tableaux, and were loaned by the Museum of the Incarnation in Malolos, Bulacan. Several of these tableaux are actually brought out in procession in the evening of Holy Wednesday in the Parish of the Immaculate Conception of the Roman Catholic Cathedral of Malolos.
Due to the imposition of the Covid-19 lockdown beginning March 15th, the exhibition has since been moved online and to social media. Once the community quarantines are lifted and museums are allowed to reopen, the Museo di Don Bosco may welcome visitors again. In the meantime, please check out this Lenten exhibition online including on dbmanda.one-bosco.org/museo
"Your sins are forgiven" ~ Mark 2:9
“I tell you, her sins—and they are many—have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.” Then Jesus said to the woman, “Your sins are forgiven.” ~ Luke 7:47-48
“Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times…” Matthew 18:21-22
PRAYER
“Lord Jesus, YOU have been kind and FORGIVING towards me. May I be merciful as YOU are merciful. Free me from all bitterness and resentment that I may truly FORGIVE from the heart those who have caused me injury or grief.”
.
#prayer from today’s Gospel reading reflection - check out the #meditation reflection @ www.DailyScripture.Net
MUSIC VIDEO: "Forgive Me" by Rebecca St. James
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uw6iyY1rZD0&feature=youtu.be
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Filename - Forgive Me - DSC_2113 View from Mary Ln. 2013
Digital painting photograph created in Photoshop. (c) 2013 Art4TheGlryOfGod by Sharon 🌻
Following the Son...
Blessings,
Sharon 🌻
God's Beauty In Nature is calling us into a deeper relationship with Him...
Art4TheGlryOfGod Photography by Sharon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Faith, Hope & Love in daily Art meditations...
FaceBook ~ www.facebook.com/Art4TheGlryOfGod
Flickr (complete portfolio) ~ www.Flickr.com/4ThGlryOfGod
Fine Art America (canvas, prints & cards) ~ fineartamerica.com/profiles/sharon-soberon
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Music Videos (from my Art Photography) ~
www.youtube.com/user/4ThGlryOfGod
Bloggers are welcome to use my artwork with, “Image from Art4TheGlryOfGod by Sharon under Creative Commons license”, and a link back to the images you use and please let me know in the comment section below, thank you...
Please do not use this image on websites,
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© All rights reserved
On Monday, my house was broken into. It was completely ransacked. There is no bigger shock than walking in on this kind of scene. What a Blessing that nobody was hurt.
Forgive...
My friends have been amazing during this time - thank you to each and every one of you. LOVE YOU! xxx
PS A shot from my early morning beach walk on Saturday.
Sé que esta fotografía podría levantar algo de polémica. Por eso he querido añadir estas líneas aclaratorias:
Soy consciente de que la he ambientado en un contexto religioso, pero mi intención no ha sido para nada transmitir un mensaje bíblico, satánico o cualquier cosa que pueda "deducirse". Tampoco es una fotografía protesta, ni una crítica a la religión ni pretendo, sinceramente, herir la sensibilidad o las creencias de nadie.
Tomé la fotografía de la modelo y, editando, se me ocurrió a raíz de ver la sangre, que podría ponerle unas alas de ángel, ya que tenía la espalda tan despejada. Y la fotografía fue tomando forma sobre la marcha, realmente. En un principio pensaba colocar al ángel en una habitación, pero después pensé que donde mejor está un ángel es en su propio entorno. Intenté crear la atmósfera propia de una iglesia abandonada ya que creo que es el mejor contexto para la expresión del ángel.
Y el proceso fue avanzando sin más motivación que crear un buen fotomontaje. De modo que, no hay más. Después de esta aclaración, quien quiera tomarse la fotografía des una forma personal, estará haciéndolo ya bajo su propio punto de vista. Ya que, repito, esta fotografia no tiene ningún trasfondo "malévolo".
"Forgive our sins" es, simplemente, una representación gráfica del sufrimiento y el sentimiento de arrepentimiendo. Nada más.
Y después de esto, espero que os guste :)
Por cierto, la habitación está sacada de: abandonalia.blogspot.com.es/2008/10/eq6-hospital-abandona...
Las vidrieras de:
www.felipejurado.com/category/reproducciones/
La cruz de:
www.imagui.com/a/cruz-T4eaxGeyL
Y las alas de:
www.all-wallpapers.net/wallpaper/angel-wings-abstract/
Fotografía y edición: Roxy Varlow
Modelo: Patricia Bukowski
“Everyone you fall in love with will hurt you and you will hurt them back, the only difference is the magnitude of the pain you cause each other and how much you are willing to forgive.”
— Nikita Gill, The Violent Truth About Love.
Capcom's "survival horror" series has come a long way over the years. Technically speaking, that is. Take a look at the original Resident Evil and compare it to the remake on GameCube, for instance. The difference, from a visual standpoint, is jaw dropping. The GCN update is simply gorgeous. And yet, as far as play mechanics are concerned, not all that much has changed.
The same can be said about Resident Evil 0 for GameCube. It's a title that's as pretty and atmospheric as ever. It's a game filled with scares. And it's also one sorely in need of an evolution in gameplay mechanics. We could forgive some of these issues in the RE remake because it was essentially an update to the classic game. On the other hand, RE0 is an all-new outing. So why does it have all of the old problems? Keep reading, if you dare.
The Facts
* The next installment of the Resident Evil franchise
* Exclusive to GameCube
* Stars characters Rebecca Chambers and Billy Coen in a prequel to the original game
* Explore a zombie infested train and an Umbrella mansion and solve the mystery of the T virus
* Control Rebecca and Billy simultaneously, switch between the two at any time, trade items, weapons, and more
* In-game puzzles require the characters to work together and on their own
* New enemy characters, boss fights and more
* Drop items at any point in the game
* Same technology that powered Resident Evil remake brings the worlds in RE0 to life in vivid detail; a combination of crisp pre-rendered and FMA animation backgrounds
* Single-player game
* Requires nine memory blocks per save
* No progressive scan, 16x9 widescreen or Dolby Pro Logic II support
Resident Evil 0 marks the first totally exclusive, original survival horror title for Nintendo's next-generation system. The game takes you back to the events that transpired before the first offering -- it's a prequel. You assume the role of not one, but two characters this time around: S.T.A.R.S. agent Rebecca Chambers (remember her from the first game? She had to practice to play the piano) and ex-Navy SEAL Billy Coen, a gruff drifter accused of killing 23 innocent people. The story, which involves the history of the T virus and lots of zombies and mutants, has two things going for it right from the start. First, it's new -- not familiar or predictable in any way, and for that reason it's also initially scarier. Second, the character of Billy Coen, a drastic departure from the goody-goody police mold in so many survival horror games, comes as a refreshing addition. Handcuffs still dangling from his tattooed wrist, he's just cooler. What can we say? It's fun to be the anti-hero.
RE0 is a third-person action title. The play style is the same as its predecessors. You have to first explore a zombie-soaked train and then the surrounding areas. This involves a lot of walking around, shooting zombies and other mutants, occasionally running from them, finding items, solving puzzles, and moving on. It only takes a few minutes to discover that the control and level design of the series has unfortunately not changed, which is disappointing. The characters are still clumsily maneuvered through the pre-rendered environments. Why? The simple act of performing a 90-degree turn is robotic and slow, which is a problem because many of the encounters in the game, zombies and especially some of the later, faster enemies, require you to be quick on your toes. There are times when all you'll want to do is run from one hallway to the other while avoiding enemies, and because the characters react so slowly the process is nearly impossible. To add insult to injury, Capcom has inexplicably removed the more natural "Type C" control featured in the remake that enabled you to assign walking and running functions to the R button -- an oversight that really hurts here.
The truth is that were we judging Resident Evil on controls alone, the game would score very poorly. There's just no excuse with superior control schemes like that used in Eternal Darkness readily available for inspiration. However, it's all about the complete package, and another truth is that as a whole the title still manages to suck you in. Also, it's not as if "zero" improvements have been made. The addition of controlling two characters at once is rather brilliant and injects a deeper sense of strategy into the game. You can switch between Rebecca and Billy at any point in the adventure with the Z button. If the two characters are near, you can trade items. Oppositely, you can choose to leave one character behind and check out something out by yourself. There will be times when you are required to do both. Each hero has his or her own abilities that are useful in certain situations. Billy, for instance, can use his greater strength to push large blocks and pull levels. It's very well balanced in this regard. It feels smartly added and we're happy for it. Naturally, in a dark and eerie environment such as Resident Evil provides, you'll even grow more comfortable when the two characters are reunited, and you won't much like the idea of having them separated. The fact that the game can develop this kind of relationship successfully is a testament to its dark and shocking atmosphere. The second major addition is the ability to drop items whenever you want. As diehard Resident Evil fans can probably attest to, there's no fun in running back and forth between levels to drop spare parts in chests, as the series has traditionally required. So you can imagine the freedom gained with this option. As long time survival horror players ourselves, we almost feel guilty carelessly dropping items at any spot without worry, but wow -- what a difference it makes. That's not to suggest that the system is perfect. The fact remains: there are too many items in Resident Evil 0 -- plain and simple. Rebecca and Billy can never carry enough. Not even close. Be prepared to read the line "You cannot carry this item -- your inventory is full" 100 times over. There's only one solution, and that's to drop one of the items in your inventory to make room. And so an entirely new frustration rears its ugly head. Before long, you'll be asking yourself where you left the hookshot, and what room is the microfilm in, and what happened to the dark statue of evil? Luckily, you can consult your map at any time during the game and look up the locations of the items one by one. The fact that so many items must be dropped and replaced extends the play length of Resident Evil 0 considerably, but it's a trick, it's not exactly fun or strategic -- it's just a means to make the game longer. That said, it's still much better than the chest system of old.
Then of course there are the puzzles. They still don't make sense. They still barely have a place within the game universe. They're still obscure. Yet, they drive the story along in their own special way and, we admit it, there are several puzzles that are very satisfying and thoughtful, if out of place. For example, there is a later puzzle in which you must determine the pecking order for a series of animal based statues and light candles to mimic it. There is a clear sense of accomplishment once it's properly figured out and successfully completed. Still, why do the puzzles have to be so illogical? We could overlook this in the Resident Evil remake as it was just that -- an update to an old game. Since RE0 is a completely new title, though, there's really no excuse.
But in the end, Resident Evil 0 is really about atmosphere, and it's again here that this latest update succeeds admirably well. You will be scared. You will jump. If you're like us, you'll probably also bite your nails and even sweat through a couple of scenes. It's this careful balance of shock value scares and a limited supply of weapons -- you almost always seem to be out of bullets or health -- that combine for a truly entertaining, spooky play environment. With that noted, it's our opinion that RE0 is actually not as disturbing as the remake. The title features trademark zombies, but they sometimes seem to take a backseat to the less scary leeches, giant cockroaches, centipedes and bats that you'll have to battle through more often than not. For one reason or another, these overgrown insects just don't hold the same sense of eeriness as the good old-fashioned undead. Of course, we still tip our hats at the inclusion of what appear to be rabid, fanged monkeys that attack characters in packs -- these guys are just nasty!
Also, we should note that this is a difficult game. Play it on 'Normal' mode if you can -- skip the easy option because you won't get the full ending benefits. It took us about 10 hours to get through the first disc alone. Capcom has at least included a lot more ink ribbons for saving this time around -- at one point we had nearly 20 ribbons to spare. But the game can be unfair. One creature in particular, a leech zombie of sorts, is extraordinarily hard to take down without getting hurt yourself. Capcom throws not one, but three of these creatures at your team later in the game. It became so ridiculously tense and difficult to get by that we almost threw in the towel in frustration.
Everything said and done, Resident Evil 0 still delivers. But it does so in spite of its many flaws -- not because it is without them. The end experience is still scary and atmospheric, which is why survival horror fans are sure to love it. But for everyone else, especially those who consider themselves gameplay purists, the clunky mechanics and dusty, sometimes unfair level design are sure to take their toll, and it's about time that somebody finally pointed this out to Capcom. Outstanding. Capcom's art style and direction is nearly in a league of its own. The mood in Resident Evil 0 is set in large by its phenomenally detailed graphics. From the almost photo-realistic pre-rendered backgrounds to the rounded, high-polygon characters, it's hard not to be wowed by the visuals in the game at one point or another. The technology powering RE0 is in fact an extension of that which brought the remake to life on Nintendo's next-generation console. So the two games actually look very similar. The designs seem even more gothic and industrial as you make it further into the game, which extends the dark mood nicely. It seems to us, also, that RE0 has even more full-motion animation elements, if you can believe it. So as Billy -- one of greater designed characters in the series incidentally -- travels through the moving train, you can see shadows pass over the passenger chairs and bodies that are splattered on the floors. It looks phenomenal. Meanwhile, there are other areas with moving ceiling fans that cast shadows all about rooms, just as they did in the last game. More impressive still, the outdoor areas -- they come to life with fantastically animated background rain that practically engulfs the train. One of the more remarkable scenes has you actually crawling across the top of the moving train and being blasted by water. You can see a dark forest of trees zooming by in the background and it looks spectacular. There are similar FMA touches on the inside environments, from animated fire after the train finally wrecks to kitchen tools that shake around as the vehicle moves along at high speeds. All of this animation more properly immerses you in what are essentially just pre-rendered areas. The character designs are superbly detailed and inventive. From the two main heroes to the freaky, rabid monkeys, the giant bat creatures, and even the grotesque leech zombies, which seizure and jerk before they die. The animation for the two main characters is still stiff, still on the robotic side, which is one of the only few graphic disappointments. Meanwhile, though, the movements for monsters are beautiful and fluid.
Interestingly, there is actually some camera movement in this game. In dozens of rooms, the view pans slowly from left to right to follow characters as they explore about. It's a subtle effect, but it goes a long way. Because of it, some of the areas feel far less static than they did in Resident Evil remake.
On top of everything else, RE0 features a wealth of FMV cut-scenes, all of the highest quality. These do a solid job of telling the story of the game. They also highlight character Billy's scarred past, which is actually pretty interesting.
The game still doesn't run in progressive scan mode, though, which is just as puzzling as it is annoying. Come on, Capcom. Scary. It's amazing how much of the spooky mood the audio helps set. Capcom has done, again, an amazing job of using the aural environment to create atmosphere. From zombie moans in the background to creaks on flooring, to crashes of glass and a fast-paced music -- it all comes together for a listening experience that perfectly matches the game. What we also like quite a bit is that Capcom isn't afraid to use silence as the biggest driver of suspense. So many would-be scary games nowadays seem to rely too heavily on effects sounds to disturb you, when in fact it's the anticipation and not the act that's really the spookiest part about these horror software titles.
The voice acting still isn't perfect -- it's sometimes a little off key. But it's much improved over the last game. When Rebecca and Billy converse, it doesn't sound as forced and contrived as character interaction did in previous games, which is appreciated.
No Dolby Pro Logic II support for reasons unknown. A disappointment. If you look at our review score, you might conclude that Resident Evil 0 is somehow vastly inferior to the remake. That's not exactly true.
For me, RE0 is really a solid survival horror update complete with beautiful graphics and a moody atmosphere, but it's also a game scarred by several gaping flaws, and I couldn't let that go again, not when Capcom could have easily corrected these issues by now. The game is still scary, and if that's good enough for you then don't bother reading the rest of my comments -- go now and pick it up. You won't be disappointed. But on the other hand, the control, especially with the "Type C" option removed, is clunky, robotic, and clashes with the pace of the game, which often requires quick and precise movements. Frankly, the play mechanics are outdated, and that really puts a hamper on the experience.
The same problems interrupted the pace of the remake. But the remake was essentially an update to a classic game that managed to inspire feelings of nostalgia and still scare the hell out of you. Now, though, we have a completely new outing with the same old problems. In fact, the control is worse and the puzzles are possibly even more stupefied. That's not cool.
If you can live with the drawbacks -- the same ones as always -- you'll probably grow to like or even love the latest in the Resident Evil series. If you're unwilling to brave bad control and poorly executed puzzles in search of the next big scare, though, you might want to rent this game before you get on the train for good.
a view that inspires one to forgive all they've held
and release any negative feeling
a relief
for to withhold this overwhelming beauty, there is no room to feel anything else
sahel al shamaaly, egypt
Note: this photo was published in an undated (mid-Dec 2010) Counseling Rehab blog , with the same title and detailed notes that I had written on this Flickr page. It was also published in a Jan 1, 2011 blog titled "Traditional wooden toys will provide hours of fun for children." And it was published in an anguished Feb 22, 2011 Counseling Rehab blog titled "I Blame My Wife for the Death of Our Son and I Hate Her for It……?!?!?!?"
Moving into 2013, the photo was published in a Jan 25, 2013 Make Wooden Boats Projects blog, with the same caption and detailed notes that I had written on this Flickr page.
****************************
After 25 years, the time has come to forgive Alice.
Alice in Wonderland, that is. More precisely, the statue of Alice in Wonderland that forms the centerpiece of the Delacorte Memorial in Central Park.
Why? Well, let me tell you a story...
In the early summer of 1984, my older son - who was a young boy at the time - fell from the top of the Alice in Wonderland statue one afternoon after school, and was knocked unconscious. Taken by ambulance to the emergency rom of a nearby hospital, he was soon joined by his distraught mother -- who had only one question for the doctor on duty: "Will he live?" The doctor, whom we later concluded was probably workin his first day of "rounds" as a resident at the hospital, stammered, "I don't know." Not a definitive "yes" or "no." Not even a hopeful, "I think so." Just "I don't know."
And where was I when all of this happened? Circling overhead in an Eastern Airlines shuttle flight (remember Eastern?) on my way back from Washington, waiting to land at LaGuardia. This was in the days before Blackberries and cellphones, before Facebook and Twitter -- so I had to wait until I could find a pay phone in the airport before I could call home to apologize for my delay.
My youngest son beat the babysitter to the phone, and announced in a cheerful little pipsqueak voice, "Hi, dad, Jamie's in the hospital!"
Needless to say, it was a long night at the hospital. Fortunately for us, a world-famous pediatric neurosurgeon, whose children had befriended our kids at summer camp on Fire Island the year before, stopped by that night, took one look at Jamie, and said to us, "He'll be fine." And he was fine -- but it was still a long night. Thus, perhaps you can understand why I never forgave Alice for that long night's vigil. Not until now.
Why now?
I hadn't planned it, hadn't even thought about it when I finished a routine checkup at a doctor's office on Manhattan's East Side yesterday, and decided to take advantage of an hour's free time, and the crisp fall weather, to walk through Central Park to my next appointment on the West Side. I began walking through the park at 72nd Street, and happened to catch a glimpse of the small boat pond -- officially known as Conservatory Water -- where young children can often be seen pushing small, elaborate toy sailboats into the water, hoping that they'll drift across to the other side.
I detoured toward the pond, hoping I might get a picturesque shot or two of such a scene (a serious photographer always has his camera ready for such fortuitous moments!), but there was only one lonely babysitter, pushing an infant in a stroller; I had forgotten that it was mid-day on a school day, so all the children who might normally frequent this area were probably in school.
As I strolled, I came to the north end of the pond, beyond which the Delacorte Memorial stands -- with the aforementioned Alice in Wonderland statue. It too was deserted, but it looked peaceful and quiet in the dappled sunlight. I couldn't help thinking how much time had passed since I was last here, and how time does indeed dull most pain, and heal most wounds...
And then I noticed something else: the green-slat wooden benches that surround the statue in a semicircle all have simple silver memorial tags, carrying a message inscribed by some patron, friend, or New York City resident who donated money to have that bench restored and placed in its spot. This is not a surprise: the benches and their memorial tags are located all through Central Park, and I've occasionally remarked on one or two other noteworthy tags that I've happened to spot. But this time, I read them all; and then I read all of the tags on the benches that surround the Conservatory Water pool to the south of the Delacorte Memorial. Some are simple and traditional, with no sign of emotion. But others are stunning in their emotional impact, written by friends and lovers, brothers and sisters, fathers and mothers, grandparents and grandchildren -- conveying in a few short words the full spectrum of love and gratitude, loss and sadness, celebration and grief, friendship and loyalty, hope and faith. And yes ... forgiveness.
I've photographed them all for you, and placed them in this set. Read them all, as I did: one by one, and then in quick succession. And then perhaps you will feel moved, as I was, to forget an old grudge.
Perhaps like me, you can forgive your own Alice.
Please forgive the following rant. I consider myself relatively noobish to some of the amazing Iconic works of Art that are entire SIM's and content that predate my time in Second Life. The kinds of places you discover that make you open your eyes to the potential beauty that Second Life can offer in the hands of the talented and dedicated to their craft. In recent times I've had to say good bye to Creators and SIM's of astonishing content and it's with a heavy heart that I can't return to capture again some of the magic that existed for me when immersed in the visions of others of profound talent.
Yesterday by way of my usual casual IM to Maxwell Graff to harass him in general I discovered another Iconic piece of the virtual World I hold in high esteem has been "retired" though for very different reasons that one might "expect". Please see the link to Max's Rustica Blog below to read the full story as it unfolds.
Hang in there Max and Lyyric I suspect many will champion you.
rusticahomefurnishings.blogspot.com/
:::: Added later ::::
Please take the time to read Max & Lyyric's Blog to get the most accurate information direct from the source of those in the thick of it.
********Rustica is still in situ and still in business********
My rant refers directly to LagNmoor SIM, an extension of the Graff/Fei Rustica experience Inworld.
It still feels like our first night together
Feels like the first kiss and
It's gettin' better baby
No one can better this
I'm still hold on and you're still the one
The first time our eyes met it's the same feelin' I get
Only feels much stronger and I wanna love ya longer
You still turn the fire on
So If you're feelin' lonely.. don't
You're the only one I'd ever want
I only wanna make it good
So if I love ya a little more than I should
Please forgive me I know not what I do
Please forgive me I can't stop lovin' you
Don't deny me
This pain I'm going through
Please forgive me
If I need ya like I do
Please believe me
Every word I say is true
Please forgive me I can't stop loving you
Still feels like our best times are together
Feels like the first touch
We're still gettin' closer baby
Can't get close enough I'm still holdin' on
You're still number one I remember the smell of your skin
I remember everything
I remember all your moves
I remember you
I remember the nights ya know I still do
One thing I'm sure of
Is the way we make love
And the one thing I depend on
Is for us to stay strong
With every word and every breath I'm prayin'
That's why I'm sayin'...
Wanda gets in costume.
For more of the story and to hear Wanda's daily podcast, visit luckybitchradio.com!
blip.fm/profile/antoniomou/blip/72014751/Burial%E2%80%93F...
Esta imagen posee derechos de autor.
No copiar o postear esta imagen por ningún medio impreso o electrónico sin mi autorización.
Todos los derechos reservados ©2010 Antonio Moubayed
This picture have copyright.
Do not copy or post this picture by print or electronic media without my authorization.
All rights reserved ©2010 Antonio Moubayed
Rick Ross, ‘God Forgives, I Don’t’: Track-By-Track Review
Everyone has their own story of struggle. There’s no denying Rick Ross has one. He’s proven so since his first debut album, “Port of Miami,” which is laced with rhymes of his dope-boy days. But Ross’ fifth studio album, “God Forgives, I Don’t,” tells a cinematic rags-to-riches tale of Ross, focusing more on the perks of success than digging deeper into the past’s toil. The problem is that the struggle is not only a more compelling story, but a story that contradicts the lifestyle he purports to live.
“God Forgives, I Don’t” only touches the surface of Ross’ fight to win. On “Ashamed,” Ross spits one verse on his mother’s financial instability, and sprinkled through out the album, Ross references the two seizures he faced late last year with lines as “Get a blowjob, have a seizure on the Lear” on “Maybach Music IV.”
Ross saves himself from redundancy with triumphant soundscapes, the majority of which are produced by long-time collaborators that guarantee a hit, J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League, and terse wordplay interwoven between the countless boastful rhymes.
Which “God Forgives, I Don’t” track will lead Rick Ross to the top of the charts? Here’s our Twitter-length track-by-track review of each song.
1. “Pray for Us”: Ross opens the album with a prayer from the movie, “Baby Boy,” in which Omar Gooding and Tyrese ask for forgiveness for future sins.
2. “Pirates”: Ross tells the tall tale of what he’s become from where he’s begun, directed at those in competition. The memorable moments come when Ross reveals his fears: “At this point in my life, I’m just trying to survive/ Homicide stay on my mind, Christopher Wallace of my time.”
3. “3 Kings,” feat. Jay-Z and Dr. Dre: Three notorious rappers rhyme about luxury living on the Jake One co-produced single. But while Dre and Ross focus on the rags, Jay outshines them with stunting solely on the riches. “Millions on the wall in all my rooms/ Ni**as couldn’t fuck with my daughter’s room / Ni**as couldn’t walk in my daughter’s socks,” Jay raps, without much effort at that (“You ain’t gotta keep this Khaled, it’s just a freestyle.”).
4. “Ashamed”: Ross reminisces on the heavy days of hustling laid over a Wilson Pickett “Shameless” sample.
5. “Maybach Music IV,” feat. Ne-Yo: J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League — longtime collaborators of Ross — open “Maybach Music IV” as boastful as the content, with electric guitars filled synths. Ne-Yo’s vocals, in the latter part of the cut, add a smooth finish.
6. “Sixteen,” feat. Andre 3000: On another J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League-produced track, “Sixteen,” Ross and Andre 3000 go in for eight minutes, reminiscing on the path they’ve walked to get them to where they are now. Andre 3000’s rhymes outshine Ross’, as his depiction goes deeper.
7. “Amsterdam”: Ross reads from his scroll of street codes over a Cortex “Prelude A (30 Round)” sample interwoven in slow-tempo Cardiak beat.
8. “Hold Me Back”: Ross’ third “God Forgives, I Don’t” single is yet another story of struggle, except this time around the G5Kid-produced track is laced a repetitive chorus reminiscent to Meek Mill’s “Actin’ Up.”
9. “911”: Ross falls off the edge of boastfulness when interweaving rhymes of materialism with God’s fate. “I bow my head, I pray to God/ Survival of the fittest, help me hold my chopper lord!/ If I die today, on the highway to heaven/ Can I let my top down in my 911?” Ross rhymes on the hook of the Young Shun track.
10. “So Sophisticated” feat. Meek Mill: Meek joins Ross in parading the perks of their success on The Beat Bully-produced single.
11. “Presidential,” feat. Elijah Blake: Pharrell’s breezy production heightens Ross’ easy living rhymes, which are summed up by the hook courtesy of Elijah Blake.
12. “Ice Cold,” feat. Omarion: Ross brings in the crooner of MMG to soften the ride-or-die love being admired.
13. “Touch’N You” feat. Usher: Ross and Usher seduce on the overtly-sensual Rico Love slow jam. With 11 weeks on the R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart, “Touch’N You” peaked at No. 18.
14. “Diced Pineapples,” feat. Wale and Drake: After Wale butters up the ladies, Ross’ rhymes about the taste and touch of his own leading lady, which is that of his fruit of choice at the time of writing the track.
15. “Ten Jesus Pieces,” feat. Stalley: J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League closes “God Forgives, I Don’t” with yet another triumphant beat, but this time around, the one that shines is the Spanish speaking storyteller that closes the song with a story more compelling than Ross’.