Funeral Homes of America
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Head: Genus Head Strong Face W001
Skin: .::WoW Skins::. SARA GENUS SKIN & BOM GROUP GIFT
Dress: toksik - Descent Dress
Hair: DOUX - Sixty Nine hairstyle
♫♬♪♩Mozart - Requiem♫♬♪♩
Inspired by Victoria Francés
My Purple Funeral ♥ Look #306 Danniexblood
Skin: more more. more more. yena skin_milk tone
Eyes: [Cubic Cherry] {Nyx} eyes (bom) @Panic of Pumpkin in Okinawa 2022
Hair: :::Phoenix::: Rachel Hair Fatpack @Satan Inc
Crown and lipstick: Wixla Sari Set Fatpack @Panic of Pumpkin in Okinawa 2022
Dress: DEAD DOLL - Tragedeigh Dress - Fatpack @Satan Inc
Garters: *>Kiu<* - Leg Bandages_Fatpack @Panic of Pumpkin in Okinawa 2022
Purse: [Fetch] Coffin Purse @Satan Inc
Scene:
Backdrop: K&S - // End of story..? Backdrop
Crypt: Serenity Style - The Crypt @Satan Inc
Trees: Lilith's Den - Gatekeeper Dryads @Panic of Pumpkin in Okinawa 2022
Big Pumpkins: Raindale - Mewbury Cat @Satan Inc
Small Pumpkins: Raindale - Mewbury kitty in a basket (Mystery Item) @Satan Inc
Crowns: YOKAI - Little Crows @Satan Inc
The Coffin Bearers at the Queens Funeral were from a unit of which the late Monarch was Company Commander ..Soldiers from the Queens Company the 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards were chosen to lift the Coffin at Westminster Abbey and Windsor Castle ..( This is a Screen Shot ).
Imposing funeral architecture at the churchyard of St. Mary's, Redbourn, Hertfordshire. The outdoor sarcophagus used to be the next best thing if you could not get an impressive monument inside the church. Some people, perhaps the surviving relatives rather, wished the deceased person to be seen and acknowledged beyond death. I am not worried by this. The quest for immortality is at least as old as the history of literacy. Necropoles and the whole gamut of funeral architecture pops up in human history with the arrival of agriculture-based political units. But not before.
7Artisans lens at approx. F 8.
Ostfriesland-Oktober-2024-1173-2 These days many people do not want the classic interment of their dead bodies. Burial of the ashes at sea has become a popular option for many - not only coast dwellers and seafaring folk.
The Horizont belongs to the Albrecht shipping company. She is based in Harlesiel and the urns are surrendered to the sea betweeen the islands of Spiekeroog and Wangerooge.
that's a hearse in the background parked in the lot of an auto parts store.. kind of weird thing to see at night
Dante's View in Death Valley National Park offers some amazing and beautiful vistas. On this morning, I loved the way the golden light of sunrise filtered into the layers created by the Funeral Mountains to the east.
Inyo Mine, located in Echo Canyon of the Funeral mountain range, Inyo County, California USA Access from Death Valley National Park.
Remains of mill and trackway visible. The roof of this place is a wonder!
Traditionally following a funeral in the UK, a repast or wake is typically held, providing a time for guests to socialise and remember the deceased.
Commonly, a buffet with finger foods like sandwiches and quiche is offered. Drinks usually include tea, coffee, and soft drinks, with alcohol (wine, beer, etc.) also often available.
Well wine and beer were definitely on the menu this afternoon.
As afternoon drifted into evening I made my excuses and headed home, (It takes me far longer to recover from a "session" than it used to when I was younger).
A good send off and May your God go with you.
(I've included what everyone said - well, highlights from them- including Niobe's, who had to leave before she could post what she would say, and notes from the letter Fallon wrote Laz. I also added Artika and Cata's internals, because they pay tribute to Laz - and I'll miss that guy. This RP impacted me harder than any other, and this funeral was one of the most beautiful things of all time. What a fantastic story.)
EAMON CALE:
"I hope... we will do more than mourn this man tonight. I ask that we pay tribute to a lad who was, indeed, larger than life, and far better than this city deserved. For all his... bluster and blow..." He smiles then, melancholy but gentle. "He was a rarity in this day and age, a man who still believed in compassion, in the protection of those who could not protect themselves, in fairness, equality." Eamon Cale's dark eyes linger on each face in turn. "Laz believed in making the world a better place than which he'd found it. Ye can look to his civil efforts to improve Midian's standard of living, his tireless work toward a common cause--that no one, regardless of race, creed, faith or genetics deserves to be locked away by the world, and forgotten here on this island with no chance nor opportunity to improve their lot. He showed others how to find their fecking bootstraps and draw themselves up again."
Eamon Cale's voice quiets again. "But 'tis as Captain of the Watch, guardian of this church, that -I- will remember Laz best. He came to this church, -drawn- here, he said, by a feeling that defied all logic... drawn to a Church and a faith that was not his own. And over the course of our friendship--over many a whiskey where he'd tell me I was mad for half the things I did... or punch me for the same--" He smiles briefly and resists the urge to run his palm over his jaw. "He came to share his belief with me, that God had spared him thus far, because his work was not yet done." Eamon Cale searches their faces. "Redemption," he says softly. "And a chance to be the good man that had been inside him all along. 'Twas this man who became my friend..." His voice catches, quiet now and hoarse. "A far better friend than I will ever deserve. He saved my life, in more ways than one. He defied the Legion for this parish, and for his family, the Pride. He gave me an incredible gift..." He pauses, jaw working. "And stood beside me as brother on the best day of my life." …
Eamon Cale looks to the door at the front of the church. If he tries, he can still see Laz standing there, back to the door, watching over the Mass. That damned cigar poking from the corner of his cocky grin. "'I have fought the good fight,' the Bible says." His gaze comes to rest on those gathered to say goodbye. "And so he did. 'I have finished my course. I have kept the faith.' He did all this and more. And so I say goodnight, ye mad bastard, with no doubt of God's words when ye stand before him." His vision blurs. He doesn't care. "'Well done, good and faithful servant. Lay down your burden. And welcome home.'"
ALRIC BRAVIN:
“…But Lazarus Lowenstark was my friend. Midian, it is said, is a den of evil, a gathering place of the wicked, and a neverending hole of darkness - or those were the first words I ever heard uttered of this place before I arrived. Laz was a light in that darkness. Someone who saw the evil, understood it, and yet, managed to stay good. Even managed to find good in those of us who might think that we were swallowed whole by the cesspool."
"He saw that good in me. When I arrived to this place, I will not lie, the darkness drew me. The promise of anonymity and a cessation to the boredom that I suffered from. I was not a good man. Still do not believe that I am, but Laz was one of a small number of people who told me differently, and perhaps performed the impossible. He made me believe it. It was something he was capable of doing - to show people that they were not their circumstances." He paused, taking another deep breath. "He taught me that sometimes you can't fight destiny. You can't fight fate putting you where you're supposed to be, but how you get there, and what you do when you get there, that's up to you… Laz was - is, one of the greatest men I've ever known, and I will never forget him. He protected my family, stood by my side when I needed someone to slap some sense into me, and became the godfather of my children. I couldn't ask for a better friend. And I know that there are people here who feel the same way. Laz will not be forgotten - the deeds that he has done and the lives that he has touched will ensure that he will live on forever. And though he and I may not end up in the same place, I consider it my greatest pleasure to have known this man for the short time - a blink of an eye, really - that I did." He returned his attention down to the casket, and bowed his head. He was fighting hard not to let the tears that wanted so desperately to form fall. "Rest well, Laz, you've earned it. Eternity awaits you. Enjoy it."
SISTER D:
"There is not much I can say about Laz that has not been said already... True also that I did not know him as well as most, and that will remain one of the biggest regrets of my life." She closed her eyes against their faces, "However, but for the Grace of God and the man we honor tonight, I would not be standing in front of you. The thing that I'll always remember about Laz is his ability to make anything better: a sad or...akward... moment fixed with a word, even up till his final breath, he was trying to console us; many of the city's problems fixed, with the help of his friends, with one of his inovations;" the teen took a deep breath, "a fight won through his skill, wit, and many strengths." Slowly, she opened her eyes... this wasn't right... not quite, she turned to the casket, that was who she needed to talk to, "Laz... I'm so sorry, sorry we didn't get to know eachother as well as we'd have liked, that we didn't get Pop Tarts, Lucky Charms, and cartoons, mostly... sorry that-- that I was up on the roof last week, and sorry these are so smushed." She choked on the last word and set a small, blue box down near the foot of the casket as she turned away. Those close could recognize the framilar Pop Tart brand logo. With that she hurried back to her seat, the napkin back at her dirty eyes.
GUIN FOUROUX:
"Laz and I," she finally says, softly. "We had our moments. The first word I think of when I think of him is 'opinionated.' But the second... well, the third. The second would be 'stubborn.' " She laughs, quick and soft, and glances at the casket. "But the third would probably be 'hero.' "She pauses for a moment, all hint of a tease leaving her voice and posture. "I grew to know Laz during the worst time of my life. And I remember standing, just about right here, when he managed to get a laugh out of me when no one else could. I don't think he knew how much that meant to me. How much it had felt, until that moment, that I wouldn't be able to laugh again, and what a weight he'd lifted…” She smooths a hand along her skirt, then lifts her hand to brush her rosay as she exhales. "Laz also never approved much of anything I did. The people I counted as friends. And he took every opportunity to tell me so. He -also- took every opportunity to defend me, whether through a barb or cutting comment, a laugh or a threat. I always knew he would be at my side if I needed him. And despite all his disapproval... he never missed an opportunity to tell me how much he trusted and respected me, either."
ELISE CAPALINI:
Elise Capalini looks at the coffin before her and then those assembled. "I tried to write something three different times before coming here tonight, and every time I failed," she says. "I think it was only after spending time with Bianca, in the cloister and the house she shared with Laz that I understood what had really been lost here." She looks to the hat retrieved from that house, and gently touches its brim.. "For me, Laz returned part of my family. I met him in this very church--asked him to do a job for me. I thought that would be the end of it--but... He became a brother to me, a protector of the Pride." She draws in a breath, throat gone tight and vision blurry again. "Laz held my hand through the darkest hours I have known in this city. He never flinched, not even in the end." Her hand flattens against the top of the casket. "We'll watch over your girl for you, Laz, until you two can hook back up. I told you--I told you..." There was too much else, she thought; too much to say and no proper words. She moves back to her place near Bianca.
RAVI KARU:
"Lazarus Lowenstark restored my faith in humanity." she paused, for a moment, and brushed the back of a hand over her cheek. "I want to impress how exact, and literal that statement is. Before coming to Midian, the only side of humans I had known was at best a dirty glance, a harsh word, and at worse, outright hatred and murder. When I came here, I met humans that seemed to care for hybrids, that seemed to be able to tolerate us, such as Father Eamon, but I still did not trust them, would not turn my back on them.. it was Lazarus who changed that, who taught me that humans were not all like those I had encountered before, that some, perhaps even most, would live and let live, and even do more. Lazarus Lowenstark helped me learn to trust humans, for the first time in my life.
LINDSAY NOONAN:
"We've all said good things about Laz, but my friend deserves to know I miss him. I genuinely respected him, even loved him. I can't say that about many humans, if you knew my past...She shrugged "...this isn't about me. Lazarus was truly Midian's hero, more than most will even know. Not just in the fight, but in trying to keep us all alive day to day as well. In time we'll see what we've lost here, but all I know is my sister has lost a beloved mate, and I've lost a dear friend. He and I often disagreed, but we were truly friends. I have laid my life on the line for him, and him for me. We worked side by side but I give him the credit for the brains to make it all work." Looks to the casket and smiles "I love you Laz, and I'm gonna miss you a lot. I won't let you or BB down though. Rest easy, you've earned it.
DAMIAN RIGAUD:
Damian Rigaud points with his gloved hand at the casket “The man I knew enjoyed what he did.. and it showed in his work and in his life. He lived and worked passionately and he shared his opinions and his mind the same way…” he smiles wider “Whether you agreed with him or even wanted to hear his thoughts on a particular subject or not.. “ says with a slight chuckle. Damian Rigaud straightens… his gaze settling on the crowd “You here that know me… know that I am not given to displays of emotion… or tortured ramblings about the pain of life and its unfairness… “ he points without looking at the casket “Neither did this man… Lazarus lived as he wished… worked in the field he wished.. took the pleasures that he wished… and *I* believe he even died in the manner he wished.” He says with determined tone at the end.“He died in the defense of the people of this church, a task he volunteered for and preformed in the manner he did everything he put his mind to… with excellence.” He says his voice confident and even. “This man that I call friend did not consider this a chore… or a vain effort.. I will not hear his wisdom debated in my presence.. “ he says with a hard edge to his voice. He looks again at the casket “Grieve as you will for the passing of a man, that stood straight and did not waver, that made no excuse for his way of life or the way he lived it….I send him on his way with my deepest respect…” he says his voice quieter.
BIANCA BENDER:
Bianca Bender she'd speak her voice quiet but strong now echoing against the old stone walls reaching all ears, "I lost the one thing that had meaning to me a week ago. I would have gone with him, if he'd but asked me to. But he wouldn't have done that...he asked me to go on...to be strong for him. I've been trying. It's difficult, he was my lover, my best-friend and my all. I've got to let him go, but for now I'm going to remember him. My..." takes a breath and swallows hard. Finally - finally after this long week she'd speak his name, "...Laz. With his impish grin that could melt me at a glance, that loved me unconditionally for all my faults he saw me as more...always more...he challenged me...every day we were together."
Bianca Bender takes another deep breath eyes sliding close briefly before opening still remaining dry, "You all shared parts of his life, work, friendship, family...." would glance in turn towards each of those that fell into each category the last landing on Alric, Fallon and the girls after passing over Elise. "He loved you all, so much. You all brought joy, pain, and challenge into his life every day." smiles softly, "I know because I had to help deal with some of the knots left behind." smiles softly and she'd turn then resting both hands against the coffin.
Bianca Bender now speaking just for him she'd break lightly the tears falling peacefully from her eyes as she continues, "I love you Laz, given time, I'd hope I would have eventually carried your name proudly as my own. We won't have those moments now, but the moments we did share, I'll cherish. Even your jokes, that I didn't always understand. I've got to go back to our home...soon...I tried earlier this week...I got you your tux you always looked so good in...you still do I'm sure..." smooths a hand over the coffin as if to smooth his tie again, "I will love you always...forever, and if I do find comfort again...the love won't be half of what I feel for you at this moment and always. Go in peace...I don't understand right now...but one day."
ARTIKA:
Artika Muliaina sits quietly now, her eyes forward and face appropriately somber... perhaps thinking of the waste of losing a useful and reliable tool, albeit one whose mind required the utmost care on her part, for such he was, at least in her mind. If she were to rise and speak, she would tell them that the man was not a fool. High praise coming from Artika. But she does not, instead glancing at Cata once more, her expression thoughtful.
CATABOLIS PLUTONIAN:
Catabolis Plutonian watches the cat quietly, for a second, but otherwise his gaze is locked on the coffin. The idea of life ending seemed almost merciful. He had done terrible things, ugly deeds that would not easily be forgiven. To be at the funeral of a man who had stood for something other than himself consumed him, made him wonder what he'd been wasting this cursed existence on. Not altruism - that alone was certain.
FALLON:
Thank you, for what you meant to Alric. You were more than a friend to him, and I'd hoped so much that you'd have become the same for me. I'd hoped you'd be the father of my next child.I know, it's a terrible time to make jokes, but at moments like these, it's either laugh or cry, and I do so hate crying in public. I will make sure Rose knows your face. Your name. What you did for her. That you held her, and kept her safe when I couldn't, and when I thought the world was crashing around us. You earned a place in my heart that night. A mother never forgets moments like those…Knowing you, I know the old saying, Good men must die, but death cannot kill their names, is true.
PORTIA:
Portia Kass exhaled and began her silent thoughts, hoping somehow or other that Laz could hear them "Laz... I wasn't kidding... wasn't just quoting when I said I'd miss you most of all. I don't think I realized exactly how important you were until it was... too late. I can promise you... that I will never take something like that for granted ever again. Thank you for believing in me, thank you for giving me a chance to loosen up and grow up, I'm only sorry I didn't do it sooner. From the very first moment we met, you had my respect and you always will. I love you dearly, I will always consider you my friend, and I will do my best to try and be as good and strong as you were, as much as I know I can be. You'll always be with me, the voice in the back of my head. I'm glad it's yours. Thank you... for everything."
NIOBE:
"It went like that the rest of the time I knew him. Laz was a man with a lot of ideas, and he loved working with other people who also had a lot of ideas. He had a passion to make Midian City a better place to live, not by changing the people who live here, not by enforcing his will on the place, but by the ignoble, simple things that Science - and he was a man to capitalize it - could fix. Clean water. Reliable power. Better technology for the Medical Center. Sustainable food supplies. And getting the subway opened between here and the mainland. Some of those we got done while Laz was with us. Most of them we're still working on. He poured heart and soul into the League, and I'm happy to say that just yesterday, Mayor Rigaud deeded us space for our new lab, which will be named the Lazarus Lawrence Lowenstark Labs. He was one for alliteration. So were his parents, apparently…Laz was good at looking at a situation and saying, ‘What can I do to help?’ and then doing it. More than that, though, he had the ability to look at someone, see something good in them, and nurture it until that good thing grew into something life changing for the person. He did it to me. I'm sure I'm not the only one."
CRAZY STRIPPER GRIEFER:
PrimalChaos Frostbite: Everybody fucky fucky...
A public transport known as "jeepney" temporarily stops amidst a heavy vehicular traffic along the national road, hence giving a girl passenger a chance to watch closely a funeral march which is on its way towards a memorial park.
Captured in Subic, Zambales, Philippines.
Destined for the scrap yard, the D-GATSTL pulls a slew of retired locomotives through Nichols Junction in Springfield, MO on their final trip on the main line. BNSF 7767 is the rear DPU.
Soundscape // Paysage sonore: TEST DEPT ("Funeral"): www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0k3Q0Eo0FQ
"Etonnant, une vue insolite et captivante dont tu as le secret !" (VINCENT / www.flickr.com/photos/58769600@N07/)
"Une perspective somptueuse. Chapeau." (Patrick CANHAN / www.flickr.com/photos/patpardon/)
"Sacrée ambiance surtout avec la musique." (SOPHIE C. / www.flickr.com/photos/sophie-clb/)
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.
- Emily Dickinson
The DRD Funeral Carriage is available now at ECLIPSE....hop in.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Death%20Row%20North/119/54...
Dedicato a Italia Donati, vittima innocente.
Italia Donati (Cintolese, 1º gennaio 1863 – Porciano,1° giugno 1886) è stata un'insegnante italiana, protagonista di un tragico fatto di cronaca.
Figlia del fabbricante di spazzole Gaspero Donati, dimostrò un'attitudine allo studio sufficiente per aspirare a un posto da insegnante elementare, e nel 1882, al secondo tentativo, superò l'esame di abilitazione. Fu assegnata a Porciano, un paesino a una decina di chilometri da Cintolese, in Toscana.
Giunta nel borgo, dovette sottomettersi alle pressioni del sindaco Raffaello Torrigiani, suo datore di lavoro (secondo la Legge Coppino del 1877 che assegnava ai sindaci il potere di assumere e anche di licenziare gli insegnanti) e dovette accettare, pena il licenziamento, di sistemarsi in una dependance della villa e convivere con l’amante e la convivente del sindaco. La giovane scoprì ben presto di avere a che fare con un donnaiolo che approfittava della sua posizione di potere per osare avances a cui lei oppose sempre un deciso rifiuto, ma dovette soccombere alle pretese di lui quando nei giorni di festa portava le sue donne in paese con il suo calesse mostrandole a tutti come suoi trofei di caccia! Le malelingue si misero subito all’opera e Italia venne giudicata senza appello come la “terza donna” del sindaco.
Ben presto si trovò a dover fare i conti con l'ostilità della comunità e, priva di qualsiasi difesa, fu oltraggiata e additata come una poco di buono. Nell'estate 1884 arrivò a un magistrato di Pistoia una lettera anonima che l'accusava di aver abortito illegalmente con l'aiuto del sindaco. Torrigiani fu costretto a dimettersi, ma per Italia le conseguenze furono devastanti.
Malgrado la polizia non trovasse alcuna prova contro di lei e lei medesima si fosse offerta ad accertamenti medici atti a confermare la sua castità, questi non le vennero concessi e l'ostilità nei suoi confronti non ebbe più freni. Mentre la sua salute risentiva della tensione, si diffuse la voce che era di nuovo incinta: lo provavano, per gli accusatori, il pallore e i sudori che erano dovuti invece ad uno stato di prostrazione psicologica a cui fu sottoposta Italia che era evitata da tutti come appestata e che sentiva sulla sua pelle il disprezzo delle sue alunne più grandi, sempre più insolenti e ribelli perché plagiate dalle famiglie. Chiese di essere trasferita in un'altra scuola della zona, e nella primavera del 1886 l'amministrazione comunale acconsentì. Ma la cattiva fama l'aveva preceduta, e la nuova comunità non celò la sua irritazione nel vedersi imporre la presenza di una donna così svergognata, arrivando a spedirle lettere anonime piene di insulti infamanti e volgarità, per farla desistere dal proposito di trasferirsi.
Prostrata da tanto insensato odio, reduce da un precedente tentativo di suicidio fallito per intervento di un suo vicino di casa, Italia riprogrammò con freddezza la sua dipartita come unica via di salvezza. Lasciò disposizioni al fratello Italiano affinché dopo morta fosse sottoposta a visita medica per comprovare la sua illibatezza, visita che in vita le fu sempre negata dal consiglio comunale.
La sera del 31 maggio Italia scrisse un breve biglietto destinato ai genitori in cui si discolpava e si difendeva. Al fratello Italiano scrisse:
« Io sono innocentissima di tutte le cose fattemi [...] A te, unico fratello, a te mi raccomando con tutto il cuore, e a mani giunte, di far quello che occorrerà per far risorgere l'onor mio. Non ti spaventi la mia morte, ma ti tranquillizzi pensando che con quella ritorna l'onore della nostra famiglia. Sono vittima dell'infame pubblico e non cesserò di essere perseguita che con la morte. Prendi il mio corpo cadavere, e dietro sezione e visita medico-sanitaria fai luce a questo mistero. Sia la mia innocenza giustificata [...] »
Camminò nel buio fino alla gora del vecchio mulino ad acqua sul fiume Rimaggio, poco fuori dal paese, fermò le sottane con due spille da balia (voleva scongiurare l'umiliazione di venire trovata con le gambe scoperte), e saltò nell’acqua. L'autopsia eseguita da due medici e due levatrici confermò che era morta vergine.
La salma fu sepolta nel cimitero di Porciano e poco ci mancò che il prete la estromettesse dalla terra consacrata perché era una suicida; evitò di farlo per estremo rispetto nei confronti della sua povera famiglia che aveva contato sul misero stipendio di lei per tirare a campare. Fu perciò sepolta nell’angolo più remoto del cimitero, vicino al muro di cinta, e sulla croce c’erano solo le iniziali del suo nome.
Il Corriere della Sera mandò il reporter Carlo Paladini ad indagare. La storia suscitò scalpore e commozione tanto che Matilde Serao pubblicò un articolo in cui denunciava la terribile condizione delle maestre elementari. Il Paladini constatò l’estrema miseria della famiglia Donati perciò fu lanciata una sottoscrizione per coprire le spese del trasporto e della tumulazione da Porciano a Cintolese, suo paese natale. Il 4 luglio fu celebrato un funerale solenne, con tanto di dignitari e Carabinieri in alta uniforme, fra ali di folla stimate in circa 20mila persone provenienti da numerosi paesi e città della Toscana. Sulla tomba fu collocata un'elegante lapide di marmo nero con l'iscrizione in lettere dorate, che era stata pagata dal Corriere. Vi si leggeva:
« A Italia Donati, maestra municipale a Porciano, bella quanto virtuosa, costretta da ignobile persecuzione a chiedere alla morte la pace e l'attestazione della sua onestà. Nata a Cintolese il 1° gennaio 1863, morta a Porciano il 1° giugno 1886. Per supremo suo desiderio il corpo fu trasportato qui da Porciano e fu posta questa memoria. A spese di pubblica sottoscrizione ».
A lei è stata intitolata la scuola elementare "Italia Donati" di Cintolese.
Nel 2003 Elena Gianini Belotti ha pubblicato il romanzo “Prima della quiete”, in cui racconta la storia di Italia Donati. Stupendo e commovente!
Abandoned funeral home in Columbia, Missouri. Photography by Notley Hawkins. Taken with a Canon EOS 5D Mark IV camera with a Canon EF11-24mm f/4L USM lens at ƒ/4.0 with a 10-second exposure at ISO 100. Processed with Adobe Lightroom Classic.
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Twenty Mule Team Canyon, Death Valley, California
The early morning sun has reddened the peaks of the Funeral Mountains. We're standing on a hill in the badlands of the Twenty Mule Team Canyon, looking north. The Cottonball Basin is visible in the middle distance, still in the shadows of intervening mountains.