View allAll Photos Tagged Heartbroken
I'm losing hope
I tell you baby I'm going under
I can't help that you set my soul
On fire living under your command
Can't get enough
My heart is rippling, rolling like thunder
I can't help that I'm laying on the table
While my life is in your hands
You say that you can save me
But it's all part of your plan
But it hurts so good when you cut me open
Taken my heart and made me heartbroken
It's a ghost town here up in my chest
I'm going into cardiac arrest
(Ooh whoa oh) yeah you got me
(Ooh whoa oh) yeah you got me
(Ooh whoa oh) yeah you got me
Going into cardiac arrest
Taken @ sunny's - Wait Here - maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sunny%20Photo%20Studio/212...
I'm reposting this once again because I saw the weather reports from New England.
I'm reposting this because I just now saw a wonderful photostream of Boston and vicinity street photos. Such fun and so nostalgic for me... They were by fotosqrrl
The magnificent, Dusty Button, in Anthony Randazzo's lovely, wonderful class, onstage at The Boston Opera House, during The Boston Ballet Fiftieth Anniversary Alumni Reunion Weekend. Fantastic...:)
I was heartbroken to discover that the view from front row seats at the Boston Opera House cuts off the dancers' feet!!!! This may be okay for opera viewing, however, it is a disaster for dance photography!!!
I could get decent photos of dancers only when they were jumping! That was after the ballet class moved from the barre to combinations in "the center." Notice the missing feet of the dancers who are not jumping...(:-(
Another interesting observation. The dancers exhibit different dance styles. I imagine it's because the dancers are from all over the world...
The original was in Flickr's Explore. Highest position: 3 on Monday, September 29, 2014
IMG_2574 - Version 2
Isa left me tonight...it hurts...she is a wonderful girl with a good heart. She also has a golden soul. I have never known anyone like her....
She says she can't give me what I want and need...I am heartbroken...I wanted to give her my all and my everything...
I really loved her...really really loved her...
This is the second time she left...I wont chase her again. She's going to have to be Gone Babygirl Gone....
Good luck Isa with what you feel you need to do...
Know you are loved because your heart and spirit were so true and pure...
Know you are cared for because you deserve so much love...love which I know you feel you don't deserve, but you really, really do... All of it.
Know that I need time...but in time I will always have a shoulder for you....
I loved your love...I am feeling broken now that it is gone...you were good at helping me to be me.
Je t'aime mon amour...je t'aime mon belle fille...Au revoir mon amis...
I will always be your "Lady Katherine"...
xoxo
Hill Ward was a three story concrete building with two shorter wings coming off it at 22 degrees left and right. It was built in 1932 as a dormitory for the mentally ill patients at Western State Mental Hospital and was abandoned in 1965. After that it was used as a fire search and rescue building until it nearly burned to the ground. For years afterwards ghost hunters and thrill seekers would go through the fence to explore it until they finished the demolition to leave only this.
I'm late to the show, but apparently this is a very famous place around here. Darling Tonia says she'd been inside when the walls were still standing with her Pentax K1000. Took lots of pics only when she got home realized there was no film in it. We are both heartbroken over it....
Google images has some shots of this place in various states of existence. I find it fascinating. If anyone has any of this place send me a link or post it here please. :-)
I found a guy on flickr named tom carmony who has several shots just prior to demo if anyone is interested.
Photo By: Cate Infinity
LM: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Pearl%20Coast/244/88/22
Here lies Laura Palmer, beneath the whispering pines,
A soul once shrouded in secrets, where dark meets divine.
Her smile, a mystery in the soft, dappled light,
In Twin Peaks, she danced between day and night.
A beauty wrapped in enigma, with eyes deep and wide,
A tempest of dreams and fears she could not hide.
The town's heartbroken melody, its sorrowful tune,
Now silent beneath the gaze of the crescent moon.
Rest now in the woods, where the nightingales sing,
Away from the pain and the shadows life may bring.
Though your journey was troubled, here find peace at last,
In the quiet earth, free from the storms of the past.
Laura, the girl who taught us love and ache,
Your memory lingers on, in the mirror lake.
Whisper through the trees, let your story unfold,
In Twin Peaks, your legend, forever retold.
"Before we say our final goodbye to LynchLand, we invite you to capture your favorite moments. Feel free to take photos or videos throughout the week before we officially close down the space." - Cate and Myrdin
Music: www.youtube.com/watch?v=UznHTBZIa8E&list=OLAK5uy_lu59...
A tutti gli amici e le amiche vet che suonano la chitarra, e ogni giorno ne scopro altri,
ne voglio sempre di più
I spent an hour with you--should I want anything else?
My tripod is crap, and I now officially hate it. It can't hold up the weight of my macro lens, and it keeps tipping forward and smacking it around, and today it fell apart and then spectactularly cut my finger while I tried to put it back together. The red on my pinky is the result of my tripod struggles.
Blah.
My cat killed a bird tonight, and it left me feeling unusually heartbroken and helpless.
I'll be posting a stop motion--if I can figure them out--or the results of my print giveaway very soon! I'm excited to do the drawing. :D
Too much. This I feel is disconnected enough from my life to express but is another jolt all the same. I know I don't share much on here but I've had too much loss and sadness this week to bear. Even though I was lucky enough to see Bowie live, I feel like a part of me that has always been there as a soundtrack is missing. Like a strange reminder yet again how hard it is to let things that give me so much joy go. And how I need to cherish what I do have while it's still here and not take for granted. I suppose I still have his music to help me drift away when whatever the cosmos continues to throw at me becomes too much. But hard all the same.
Someone just told me a great quote that sums up how I feel at this venture. It's like something elemental was lost or an entire color is missing. Thank you all for being kind to me and letting me add some color into your days, as you do mine. Right now I'm black.
xo
We were really blessed to have Reggie, a petite sheltie, as a member of our family for 14 years. He was a sweet boy and loved to cuddle. So when the theme "Something Soft & Cuddly" surfaced of course I knew "who" I was going to add to the collection of softies. Such a cool story of how he came to join our family. We were seeking a housebroken dog (so around a year old or so). Found a beautiful sheltie and made all of the arrangements to purchase him. Had named him, brought all of the supplies and then the day before we were to bring him home the person who was selling him decided to keep him instead. Of course we were all heartbroken and so disappointed. Then a week later, what was intended to happen did. We found Reggie, who was unwanted (and free) because he was no longer a puppy and had an overbite (so a no go for breeding, which we could care less about, we thought it was cute how his tongue stuck out between his teeth) and the runt of the litter. Needless to say it was love at first sight and a total "win" "win". A few more of him, Loving Lake Life: flic.kr/p/2jog6Ko, Barking at HIS Lake: flic.kr/p/2jodwzm and a Final Farewell to His Girl: flic.kr/p/2johiwU .
We are Heartbroken 💔 Goodnight Karson, our precious church cat. May 3rd, 2004 ~ December 23rd, 2020
"Remembrance, like a candle, burns brightest at Christmastime." Charles Dickens
Merry Christmas, Karson, you will always be in our heart.
حکیم ابوالقاسم حسن بن علی طوسی معروف به فردوسی (حدود ۳۱۹ تا حدود ۳۹۷ هجری شمسی)، شاعر حماسهسرای ایرانی و گویندهٔ شاهنامهٔ فردوسی است که مشهورترین اثر حماسی فارسی است و طولانیترین منظومه به زبان فارسی تا زمان خود بودهاست. او را از بزرگترین شاعران فارسیگو دانستهاند.
بنا به نظر پژوهشگران امروزی، فردوسی در حدود سال ۳۱۹ هجری شمسی در روستای باژ در نزدیکی طوس در خراسان متولد شد.
شاهنامه مهم ترین اثر فردوسی و یکی از بزرگ ترین آثار ادبیات کهن فارسی میباشد.
فردوسی برای سرودن این کتاب در حدود پانزده سال بر اساس شاهنامهٔ ابومنصوری کار کرد و آن را در سال ۳۷۲ شمسی پایان داد. فردوسی از آنجا که به قول خودش هیچ پادشاهی را سزاوار هدیه کردن کتابش ندید («ندیدم کسی کش سزاوار بود»)، مدتی آن را مخفی نگه داشت و در این مدت بخشهای دیگری نیز به مرور به شاهنامه افزود.
پس از حدود ده سال (در حدود سال ۳۸۲ هجری شمسی در سن شصت و پنج سالگی) فردوسی که فقیر شده بود و فرزندش را نیز از دست داده بود، تصمیم گرفت که کتابش را به سلطان محمود تقدیم کند از این رو تدوین جدیدی از شاهنامه را شروع کرد و اشارههایی را که به حامیان و دوستان سابقش شده بود، با وصف و مدح سلطان محمود و اطرافیانش جایگزین کرد. تدوین دوم در سال ۳۸۸ هجری شمسی پایان یافت (به حدس تقیزاده در سال ۳۸۹) که بین پنجاه هزار و شصت هزار بیت داشت. فردوسی آن را در شش یا هفت جلد برای سلطان محمود فرستاد.
به گفتهٔ خود فردوسی سلطان محمود به شاهنامه نگاه هم نکرد و پاداشی را که مورد انتظار فردوسی بود برایش نفرستاد. از این واقعه تا پایان عمر، فردوسی بخشهای دیگری نیز به شاهنامه اضافه کرد که بیشتر به اظهار ناامیدی و امید به بخشش بعضی از اطرافیان سلطان محمود از جمله «سالار شاه» اختصاص دارد. آخرین اشارهٔ فردوسی به سن خود یکی به حدود هشتاد سال است («کنون عمر نزدیک هشتاد شد/امیدم به یک باره بر باد شد») و یکی به هفتاد و شش سال («کنون سالم آمد به هفتاد و شش/غنوده همه چشم میشار فش»).
___________________________________________________________________
Ferdowsi was born in the Iranian province of Razavi Khorasan, in a village near Tus, in 935. His father was a wealthy land owner. Ferdowsi was a pious Muslim. His great epic, the Shāhnāmeh ("The Epic of Kings"), to which he devoted more than 35 years, was originally composed for presentation to the Samanid princes of Khorasan, who were the chief instigators of the revival of Iranian cultural traditions after the Arab conquest of the seventh century.
When he was just 23-years old, he found a “Shāhnāmeh” written by Abu-Mansour Almoammari; it was not, however, in poetic form. It consisted of older versions ordered by Abu-Mansour ibn Abdol-razzagh. The discovery would be a fateful moment in the life of the poet. Ferdowsi started his composition of the Shahnameh in the Samanid era in 977 A.D[3]. During Ferdowsi’s lifetime the Samanid dynasty was conquered by the Ghaznavid Empire.
After 30 years of hard work, he finished the book and two or three years after that, Ferdowsi went to Ghazni, the Ghaznavid capital, to present it to the king. There are various stories in medieval texts describing the lack of interest shown by the new king, Sultan Mahmud of Ghazni, in Ferdowsi and his lifework. According to historians, Mahmud had promised Ferdowsi a dinar for every distich written in the Shahnameh (60,000 dinars), but later retracted and presented him with dirhams (20,000 dirhams), which were at that time much less valuable than dinars (every 100 dirhams worth 1 dinar). Some think it was the jealousy of other poets working at the king’s court that led to this treachery; the incident encouraged Ferdowsi's enemies in the court. Ferdowsi rejected the money and, by some accounts, he gave it to a poor man who sold wine. Wandering for a time in Sistan and Mazandaran, he eventually returned to Tus, heartbroken and enraged.
He had left behind a poem for the King, stuck to the wall of the room he had worked in for all those years. It was a long and angry poem, more like a curse, and ended with the words:
"Heaven's vengeance will not forget. Shrink tyrant from my words of fire, and tremble at a poet's ire."
Ferdowsi is said to have died around 1020 in poverty at the age of 90, embittered by royal neglect, though fully confident of his work’s ultimate success and fame (clearly seen especially in last verses of his book). One tradition claims Mahmud re-sent the amount promised to Ferdowsi’s village, but when the messengers reached his house, he had died a few hours earlier. The gift was then given to his daughter, since his son had died before his father at the age of 37. However, his daughter refused to receive the sum, thus making Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh immortal.
Later the king ordered the money be used for repairing an inn in the way from Merv to Tus, named “Robat Chaheh” so that it may remain in remembrance of the poet. This inn now lies in ruins, but still exists.
Some say that Ferdowsi's daughter inherited her father's hard earned money, and she built a new and strong bridge with a beautiful stone caravanserai nearby for travellers to rest and trade and tell stories.
Ferdowsi was buried at the yard of his own home, where his mausoleum now lies. It was not until Reza Shah Pahlavi's rule, in 1925, that a mausoleum was built for the great poet.
Some stories don't have happy endings...Someday you're gonna be all alone, so you need to figure out how to take care of yourself.
At the end of the actual story of The Little Mermaid, the mermaid is heartbroken when her love marries another and instead of killing him she jumps from the boat takes her own life instead.
I was heartbroken after the season finale of lethal weapon, so i knew i had to redo my riggs.
that is all.
When Love Came Knocking Your Door -
Valentine is next Tuesday, here’s a themed story for tonight. Is it possible to fall in love at first sight? Might be, but more often than not, it is the opposite. The feeling is gradual, unwitting and unanticipated spurt of throbbing heart at the next second. This was what happened when a moth touched down for the umpteen times on the same spot and suddenly understood. Unfortunately, her love interest never felt the same. The fully furled fiddlehead received the strange settler as a transient in September.
Moth: Out of the blue, among the staghorn, maidenhair and asparagus my eyes caught, just you. Approve or do not, to sit in silence I cannot. Would you let me hide on your underside and be my Valentine?
Fern: You knocked at the wrong door. I am waiting for a butterfly with lime wings. Your parallel stripes are not right and incompatible with my vertical lines.
Moth: In terms of color, contour and mobility we are truly in opposition, but I’m set to skew the angle at which I rest so we could see eye-to-eye. I’ll alter my position, for you I would.
Fern: Can war and peace exist in hand at the same time? Some things are not meant to be. We are mismatched as a lacy shirt contesting a leather jacket with brass spikes.
Moth: How difficult is it to accept exception instead of the norm? Why do you care so much about the insignificances? At random, rain can stay while the sun is out.
Fern: Bistre is off-balance with green and mobile is contradicting with static. We are inappropriate together and just don’t fit. I wished you luck placing your devotion elsewhere.
For a precious season, the diurnal moth came every night to prove. While the roses grew prettier and plentiful, the fern remained hard headed. Dip a Nabisco Oreo for too long in tea, the biscuit turns to mush and falls to the bottom. That’s how it was for the never tiring fighter on the inside. Three days short of the given two moths span, the moth serious about life lifted her wings for the last time to seek another bracken to belong.
Twist of fate, the fern became conscious what he let go is clearly missed. Birdwings, earwigs and lacewings came but it is just not the same; the heartbreaker gets heartbroken. His regrets over the wee huddles he wasn’t able to pass grew big. As days turn into nights, the fern waited and waited for the never returning moth. Each time the sky pours, the frogs take note how his tears air race down with the water drops on their heads. In the middle of emptiness, the fern called upon the reflection on the surface and spilled, “You’re the one”.
After two summers in grief, the frond of stubborn bricks wilted. There’s a lesson our flowerless plant left behind, triviality can rend asunder connecting lovelines. Surely love had granted his wish, without informing him when, until it’s too late.
Mary Grace Locker, my Mom, died December 9th. She'd been suffering from emphysema for many years. In fact, six years ago, she was given six months to live. But Mom was stubborn and modern medicine is a wondrous thing. She held on to see the birth of her 12th-and-probably-last grandchild (3rd granddaughter). Her death was sudden, earlier than expected and it's been hard on us. Dad is heartbroken. They were married nearly 52 years.
We tried to get her to write down the things she'd seen in her life, the stories she'd tell us about growing up on a farm during the Great Depression and WWII. But she preferred to tell us. And when I went back for her funeral, I found that each of us had some stories Mom had told one, but not the others. I think she did that unintentionally, but it has worked out so that we all have shared memories ... and a few that are ours alone. She had to do that with nine kids - make us feel like we were all parts of a greater whole, but unique individuals too.
So this photo is a tribute to Mom. It might not seem much. To me, though, it's about Mom's love of nature and keeping natural things around to soothe the soul (apple gourds, leaves, rocks and fossils galore), and salvaging everything whether it's a little kid's hurt feelings or a basket well past its prime. The strawflower on the old chair really makes me think of Mom - they were the first seeds she and I ever planted together. I doubt this flower is in any way related to those we planted 35 years ago other than being in the same species. But I saw it and I knew - I may not see her, but Mom is here.
I found this dead, slightly torn heart-shaped leaf one day. I thought it was beautiful in its own special way, it just needed a good background, so I placed it on this plant in our backyard.
I think the end result is amazing.
,.
I need some talking the nights I spent heartbroken;
But tonight I know,
I won't cry no more. ♥♥♥
-- Allah Yi7fa'6 ilModel :"")
Our 83 year old father said he could not live without a little guy in the house. He was heartbroken by the passing of the Pickle, and so my sister and I went on an urgent hunt for a similar dog. We found this little guy, whom our Dad decided to call "Shookie Levinson" after his friend, and the best dancer in the class of 1938 at Samuel Tilden High School in Brooklyn, NY. Go figure.
He will never be our beloved Pickle, but he will surely become our beloved Shookie Levinson.
[18/52] Emotional Portrait, (me)
[41/100x] My X = My 100 Favorite Places in Southern New Jersey, USA to take photos!
Location: The Laundromat in Mays Landing, New Jersey, USA. (Atlantic County)
__________________
This was taken at the local laundromat. Thank goodness we didn't startle TOO many people.
__________________
My cousin's home BURNT DOWN!
So 2 nights ago my cousin's home burnt down. A 3 story home, totally gone. I was on my way to work and the road was blocked off and I saw firetrucks.. I had the worst feeling in my gut. I knew that their home was viewable thru the train station - so I asked Juan to stop at the train station and let me out.
I literally stood there in total shock on the train platform looking at the home that my great grandfather built- which was my grandfathers.. I've been visiting since I was a child.. (so much as a child).. Tears were streaming down my face. My cousin and his wife.. (And I believe his brother and a child in another unit) were living there for some time. Evidentially they were able to get the families out, but my cousin's brother (I think) - is now in a burn trauma center with severe burns, but all of the humans survived.
I believe they were able to get one dog out..
But one dog died.. and 5 cats. .😥They were trapped inside this home that was totally engulfed in flames...
This whole situation breaks my heart.
I spoke to my cousin yesterday. I know he & his wife are staying with their daughter. I am so heartbroken for them. I don't even know what to say about it.. Except it's really unexpected.. they literally LOST EVERYTHING.. and my heart breaks for them.
I will keep you guys updated if anything comes up.. (A gofundme) or something. I know a lot of my customers at my job were asking about a gofundme, etc. They do want to help, I think the whole town does.. It's devastating. I just don't know what to say.. except that they definitely need your thoughts/prayers right now.. if you could.
I appreciate it.
I really don't know what else to say...
Hope you all are doing well...
>>Oh and the heater guy is finally coming to fix check our heater, tomorrow. It's about time.. we only froze all winter. Now it's spring, we don't use the heater.. and he's going to come and TRY TO fix it. I really don't know HOW I'm going to "check the heater" and see if it's definitely working (it used to shut off for up to a day at a time after running a few hours). Because I'm NOT turning on my heater when it's warm outside. Nope. So I guess we'll find out next winter? Hmm.. We'll see.
I will do my best to return your comments as soon as I can.. Possibly today and tomorrow!
Today I went out for a photo shoot with my sister, Kendall. It wasn't too cold out. lol. I'll add some more from the shoot later.
I'm very excited; I've been booked to do Grad Photos and Wedding Photos in May :).
I can't wait, lol.
All images copyright © olivia house / ©oliviahousephotography. All rights reserved. Use without permission is illegal.
INNOCENT VICTIMS
What turns men into killing machines,
That blow apart lives and destroy innocent dreams?
Look into the eyes of a child and may the pain that you see,
Haunt you as much as it haunts me.
Innocent lives destroyed by the things that they saw,
In yet another pointless and brutal war.
Look at the tear stained face of a child whose home has been blown apart,
In a war he doesn't understand and he certainly didn't start.
Feel the pain of the child who has lost a limb,
Can you explain the reasons for this war to him?
Or the little girl weeping beside her dead mother,
While the ambulance crew try to save her brother.
Look at the orphans that this war did create,
And you'll see another generation who will learn how to hate.
For as a heartbroken child cries in the still of the night,
He dreams of the day when for revenge he will fight.
— Sandra Botha
She’s is such a sweet and beautiful creature who’s over 20 years old now. Sadly they don’t last forever. Within the next few days her journey comes to an end. We’re heartbroken.
A unique memorial to their only son. Lt. Robert Austin gave all for his country in 1943.
His heartbroken parents wanted him remembered. This is my small way of helping them in that vision.
A little boy had been trying for many days to capture one of the little birds that snacked in the family fields. He had tried over and over again to hide in the bushes and surprise one of those birds enough to get his hands on it. Finally, after many failed attempts, he captured his prize. And he couldn't wait to show his mommy. He wrapped his hands around that little bird and he ran all the way to his house. As soon as the little guy saw his mother, he proudly extended his cupped hands and said, "Mommy, I got a bird! He's really cute!" But his joy didn't last long. As he slowly opened his hands for his mother to see, he noticed the bird wasn't moving - or breathing. It was one heartbroken boy who cried, "Mommy, I was afraid I'd lose him. But I held him so tight, I crushed him."
you can avoid that unhealthy kind of love that crushes a child and often loses a child. A controlling parent, a manipulating parent, a guilt-tripping parent, a shaming parent, a dominating parent - those are parents who will ultimately produce the very results they fear by holding too tight. You may get some immediate compliance, but you're either going to cripple or drive away that child. Nagging and criticizing and pressuring only end up pushing them away from the very choices you so desperately were trying to get them to make.
You just keep sowing good seed in their life, knowing you don't reap the day after you sow. You keep offering them the safety of your unconditional love. You keep showing them how to make good decisions; not making all the decisions for them. You keep reminding them of the awesome person God made when He made them. You keep setting reasonable boundaries with reasonable penalties, and you be consistent with them. You keep listening to their heart. And you keep giving them back to God, and stop trying to be "God" in their life. Only He can be that.
Love them deeply - hold them loosely so they can learn to fly as God made them to.
-gospel.com
Praying for Minneapolis, Chicago, and their people tonight. Two towns where I have spent the vast majority of my life and love. So much senseless tragedy - just heartbreaking.
allusion to:
"eternal sunshine of the spotless mind"
wonderful weirdo movie
After a fight, Joel Barish discovers that his girlfriend Clementine Kruczynski has had her memories of him erased by the New York City firm Lacuna. Heartbroken, he decides to undergo the same procedure. In preparation, he records a tape for Lacuna, recounting his memories of their volatile relationship.
Joel re-experiences his memories of Clementine as they are erased, starting with their last fight. As he reaches earlier, happier memories, he realizes that he does not want to forget her. His mental projection of Clementine suggests that Joel hide her in memories that do not involve her.
Summertime in Australia
I tried so hard to do something light for this month’s FOFT challenge (“summertime” by the lovely Laszlo) given my last few challenge posts have all been on the heavy side and I tried not to write too much. But in the end I couldn’t do either.
I have spent the last few days in the country on my friend’s farm. I took images of kids jumping off the big rocks and swimming in the waterholes-typical Aussie summer fun in the country. Then on Friday we were blanketed with thick smoke as was most of Victoria and New South Wales. On Saturday, our Vic Emergency Apps sounded the alarm, telling us there was a bushfire near the tiny town of Euroa, not far from where we were staying. The smoke thickened. We decided to leave. I drove past the fires and got through without incident. Not long after, there was an emergency warning to evacuate and the highway was closed. Fortunately, the wind changed in the afternoon and Euroa was spared.
Other places are not so lucky and so much of East Gippsland and places far and wide across Victoria and other states are on fire. Almost 1 million hectares has already burnt in Victoria alone. I don’t think anyone can fully comprehend the long-term loss and devastation these fires will have on our ancient forests, their associated wildlife, the stock and all the communities dotted throughout these landscapes that will have to try to rebuild.
There are few words. I am heartbroken. I don’t have a monopoly on these feelings of helplessness. Images of summer once involved gorgeous sunsets, days in the pool, outdoor BBQs and games of Cricket. Ever since Black Saturday, the thought of summer now brings anxiety and the fear of fires.
However, as is often the case, in the face of disaster our communities band together and do the most incredible job of supporting each other. Millions of dollars has been raised (locally and overseas), food banks are being set up everywhere and people are donating their time, homes and machinery to help.
That is the heart-warming part of the story.
This image is a composite of two I took while away. The sheep in the smoke and the sun, made blood red by the fires. A light texture applied.
After six months of waiting, today I received my trade set back from Cecile along with a lovely care package and the items she was able to complete for the trade. Despite everything I went through I'm guilted over receiving such lovely things from her for nothing. I'll make a post soon of what she sent and said in a moment... Also I'll add this set to my shop shorty. They returned in perfect condition which is a huge relief.
**********************************************************************************
Everyone knows I love trades. If find out a customer makes something I will often suggest a trade because I want to support my fellow craftsmen and artists. I going to finish all the trades I have going currently but I don't think I'll be taking any more. This is the second time I've been burned and with a trade there is not much I can do to get back my work or the value. I'm sad to loose this set because I loved it so. I made it special and went way over our set trade value, this set was almost double it, because I wanted to make something special for someone I thought was a friend. It's been several months and she won't even reply to my messages. I'm heartbroken.
We are heartbroken to say that our lovely Erica was so poorly that yesterday we took her vets to be put to sleep. She found us and brought Bloss with her and she showed me so much love and I loved her. Bloss is wondering where she is and we miss her, but I know it was time to go and be at peace.xxxxx
When I moved to Snowdonia two and half years ago I lived very briefly in Prenteg which lies at the foot of Moel Ddu. At the time I was heartbroken having split up with my fiance and it took me weeks to find the motivation to climb a mountain. When I did, that mountain was Moel Ddu.
Tonight I returned and remembered those dark days when even the hills offered no solace.
I've come a long way but the mountains are no longer a much needed escape from everyday life...they are my everyday life.
The story goes that a ravishing young princess from Maui was captured by a young warrior from Lanai. He took her as his wife and brought her back to his home island. He was so stricken with her beauty that he was afraid to let other men see her, and thus he confined the princess to a sea cave near the rock.
One day, as the warrior was away, the weather suddenly changed drastically, and the raging surf began to pound this side of the island. The warrior rushed back to the cave, but it was too late: His beloved Puu Pehe had drowned. Heartbroken, he retrieved her body and, with the help of the gods, climbed the steep rock island, where he buried her in a tomb. Overcome with grief, the warrior then leaped off the rock to his death.
Puu Pehe is situated about 150 feet offshore between Manele Bay and Hulopoe Bay along the island’s southern coastline. A closer look at this picturesque sea stack reveals, indeed, a tomb-like structure resting at the summit. Archeologists who have studied the rock will tell you that there are no human remains in this “tomb.” The tomb, in fact, may actually be a bird heiau (temple) constructed by the ancient Hawaiians, as numerous bones from sea birds have been found near the heiau.
I proposed to my wife here.
Today has been one of the hardest days of my life. Following the vets advice, we had to come to the painful decision to let our dear sweet gentle Podge go on his final journey. We are totally devastated so please forgive me if I am not very communicative just now. There is never a good time but this has to be one of the worst times to say goodbye to a beloved pet. Podge was 20 years, 3 months and 12 days old and I have known him for every second of his life as I saw him being born. My heart is broken, I loved this boy so much, he was such a character.
My beloved Max would have been one year old this weekend. We were stunned to learn two weeks ago that he had a heart defect in multiple chambers of his heart. He was in congestive heart failure with severe arrhythmias, then came home on multiple medications. This was the day he came home. You can see where they shaved his fur to do the echo cardiogram and to insert the IV.
He was still struggling to settle in when a blood clot entered his aorta one week later, and made his hind legs unusable. I could see he was in terrible pain and I knew that we could not let him suffer through that and everything else.
He came from our neighbor and probably he had been the runt of the litter and rejected first by his mama. He was my sweetest little baby. I am heartbroken for him and will miss him forever. His life was short but it was so full of love and fun and joy. We buried him under the apple tree near Gali and Dimi.
I'm reposting this because I just now saw an wonderful photostream of Boston and vicinity street photos. Such fun and so nostalgic for me... They were by fotosqrrl
The magnificent Dusty Button in Anthony Randazzo's lovely and wonderful class The class was onstage at The Boston Opera House. during The Boston Ballet Fiftieth Anniversary Alumni Reunion Weekend. Fantastic...:)
I was heartbroken to discover that the view from front row seats at the Boston Opera House cuts off the dancers' feet!!!! This may be okay for opera viewing, however, it is a disaster for dance photography!!!
I could get decent photos of dancers only while they were jumping! That was after the ballet class had moved from the barre to combinations in "the center." Notice the missing feet of the dancers who are not jumping...(:-(
Another interesting observation. The dancers exhibit different dance styles. I imagine it's because the dancers are from all over the world...
The original was in Flickr's Explore. Highest position: 3 on Monday, September 29, 2014
IMG_2574 - Version 2
Holywell, Huntingdonshire
Overlooking the Great Ouse river, The Old Ferry Boat is reputedly England's oldest inn. Located in the hamlet of Holywell, the thatched roof and white stonework have remained for many years, This ancient pub has a rich history.
The Old Ferry Boat Inn boasts a haunting story, which becomes immediately apparent when you spot the grave under the bar. Staff and customers have reported strange goings on at the pub from lights refusing to switch off to things going bump in the night.
The lovely pub is widely reputed as one of the 'most haunted' in Cambridgeshire, alongside The Eagle in Cambridge.
On March 17, 1050, a local girl who was only 17 at the time, fell passionately in love with a forester called Tom Zoul. Sadly, Tom didn't return her love and heartbroken Juliet hung herself from a tree near the Inn so that Tom would see her body on his way to work. In another version of the story, Juliet drowned herself in the River Ouse, instead of hanging herself.
But whatever the cause of her untimely death, Juliet was buried in the unhallowed ground close to the Inn. Because of the stigma attached to suicide in the 11th century, and her grave was marked only with a plain stone slab.
Over the years the pub has been developed and extended, and Juliet's grave slab has become part of the interior. The slab can be seen in the bar today, and rumor has it that Juliet's ghostly form rises from the river at midnight on March 17, every year, and glides towards her grave.
Many people claim to have seen the heartbroken phantom, while others have commented on the eerie feeling associated with the ancient pub.
For hundreds of years a ferry crossed the river at this point. One famous passenger, Hereward the Wake. used it to escape from the Norman invaders.