View allAll Photos Tagged Innerstrength
Not every shadow is something you need to run from.
For years, Riley tried to be exactly who everyone expected her to be. Polite. Predictable. Perfect. But the more she adapted to other people's expectations, the more she lost herself.
One day, she stopped fighting her own nature. Instead of hiding her strength, ambition, and independence, she embraced them. What others called her "dark side" was simply the courage to live life on her own terms.
The shadow behind her doesn't represent evil. It represents every trait she was once afraid of — confidence, determination, and unapologetic self-belief. Today, she no longer hides them.
Because true freedom begins the moment you stop apologizing for who you are.
✨ What part of yourself are you still hiding from the world?
Half warrior, half breath.
My spirit still stands, even when my body can’t.
And from that light below —
where nothing should shine —
rises my breath, entire and undefeated.
I still wear, now and then, the pants from my old Aikido uniform.
I was never a great Aikidoka, and truth be told, I never liked to fight.
Aikido, for me, was a beautiful game: a dance of balance, of listening, of energy flowing.
Then I had a serious accident, and now I can only do soft, gentle movements.
But something remains untouched.
Not the technique, not the belt, not the falls.
What remains is the spirit.
That can't be trained — and can't be taken away.
The complete shooting on my Instagram and Facebook profiles.
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Model: Océan
Photo: @giovanni_contarelli
©2025 All Right Reserved Giovanni Contarelli
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A portrait not only of beauty but also of resilience — where every flower blooming from within tells a story of strength, healing, and rebirth. Beneath the elegance lies a soul that has weathered storms and still chooses to bloom with grace. 🌸✨
#BeautyWithin #FloralArt #DigitalPortrait #SurrealBeauty #BloomingSoul #ArtisticExpression #InnerStrength #FantasyArt #CinematicBeauty #ElegantArt #WomanOfStrength #DreamlikeArt #FloralFantasy #CreativeSoul #AestheticVibes #ModernMuse #ArtLovers #VisualPoetry #EtherealBeauty #AIArt
The complete shooting on my Instagram and Facebook profiles.
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Model: Océan
Photo: @giovanni_contarelli
©2025 All Right Reserved Giovanni Contarelli
Follow me on Flickr and
Nothing is more flexible or receptive than the water in my Wild River…!!!
But in the same time nothing can resist to the strength of her water…!!!
All the Wild River of the world teaches to us that the most fabulous power to realize peace in this world is the flexibility… the receptivity to others…!!!
Author Unknown...
A little boy asked his mother
"Why are you crying?"
"Because I'm a woman",
she told him.
"I don't understand",
he said.
His mum just hugged him
and said, "And you never
will"
Later the little boy asked
his father, "Why does mother seem to cry for
no reason?"
"All women cry for no reason",
was all his dad could say.
The little boy grew up and became a man,
still wondering why women cry.
Finally he put in a call to God; and when God got on
the phone, he asked, "God, why do women cry so
easily?"
God said:
"When I made the woman she had to be special.
I made her shoulders strong enough to carry the weight of the
world; yet, gentle enough to give comfort
I gave her an inner strength to endure childbirth and
the rejection that many times comes from her children.
I gave her a hardness that allows her to keep going
when everyone else gives up, and take care of her
family through sickness and fatigue without
complaining. .I gave her the sensitivity to love her children under
any and all circumstances, even when her child has
hurt her very badly. I gave her strength to carry her man through his
faults and fashioned her from his rib to protect his
heart. I gave her wisdom to know that a good man never
hurts his woman, but sometimes tests her strengths and
her resolve to stand beside him unfalteringly.
And finally, I gave her a tear to shed
This is hers exclusively to use whenever it is
needed.
You see:
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears,
the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her
hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen in her eyes,
because that is the doorway to her heart - the place
where love resides.
************************************************************************
For my Distortions and Truths set
Model by ohlopkov at Devient art
Texture by Kerstin Frank Art
Texture by me
Half warrior, half breath.
My spirit still stands, even when my body can’t.
And from that light below —
where nothing should shine —
rises my breath, entire and undefeated.
I still wear, now and then, the pants from my old Aikido uniform.
I was never a great Aikidoka, and truth be told, I never liked to fight.
Aikido, for me, was a beautiful game: a dance of balance, of listening, of energy flowing.
Then I had a serious accident, and now I can only do soft, gentle movements.
But something remains untouched.
Not the technique, not the belt, not the falls.
What remains is the spirit.
That can't be trained — and can't be taken away.
Some of the most important moments in life happen when we’re standing on the edge of something - balanced between where we’ve been and where we’re trying to go. One foot still anchored in the familiar, the other hovering over the unknown. We rarely move with certainty. More often, we move with a quiet mix of fear and hope, trusting that the next place we land will hold.
From a distance, it can look like confidence. People see the stride, the posture, the forward motion. What they don’t see are the questions that press against the ribs, the doubts that flicker like shadows, the private negotiations we make with ourselves before taking the next step. Every choice carries the chance of falling short. But it also carries the chance of becoming something we could never reach by staying safely inside the lines.
Maybe wisdom isn’t about avoiding the ledge at all. Maybe it’s learning how to walk it - how to breathe through the height, how to steady yourself, how to move even when the ground ahead is uncertain. A life built only on safety may be comfortable, but it rarely expands. The moments that shape us are the ones that ask us to trust our own balance, even when the outcome is unclear.
We don’t always know where the next step leads. But sometimes the simple act of taking it is what turns uncertainty into possibility.
I am not my hair.....I am not my skin......
Get over the skin color you were born. Call the Waaaaaahmbulance. You'll find no pity here.
Be a good human.
“When we meet real tragedy in life, we can react in two ways--either by losing hope and falling into self-destructive habits, or by using the challenge to find our inner strength.”
― Dalai Lama XIV
Page 3 of the coffee dyed, hand stitched UnCovered Zine - this time what armory is at my hero's disposal as she journeys forth.
“Look well into thyself; there is a source of strength which will always spring up if thou wilt always look.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations
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A figure carved in shadowed stone tears open the cage of her own chest, unleashing a torrent of golden radiance that refuses containment. Cracks race across her form like ancient runes awakening, each fracture a testament to pressure survived and truth reclaimed. The light is not gentle; it is sovereign, erupting with the force of a long buried lineage demanding to be seen. This is the moment of ignition—the uprising of the inner world against the silence that tried to hold it.
I.
I was sculpted in quiet, shaped by centuries of restraint.
Stone learned my name before I ever spoke it.
But beneath the carved stillness, something burned.
A truth too bright to stay buried.
II.
The cracks began as whispers—small betrayals of the mask.
Hairline fractures tracing the map of my becoming.
Pressure made scripture of my silence.
And the stone could no longer hold its lie.
III.
When I tore myself open, the world flinched.
Light surged out like a forgotten inheritance.
It was not pain—it was revelation.
The body remembering its original fire.
IV.
I am not breaking; I am returning.
Returning to the glow that predates the wound.
Returning to the power that outlived the burial.
Returning to the self that refused extinction.
V.
Witness the radiance that survived the crushing.
Witness the heart that refused to dim.
I rise not as statue but as storm.
A luminous revolt against erasure.
VI.
Let the fractures widen; let the brilliance roar.
Let the old shell crumble into myth.
I am the ember that learned to roar like a sun.
I am the inheritance of every hidden flame.
VII.
Call it awakening if you must.
But I know it as remembering.
The light was always mine—
I simply stopped apologizing for it.
VIII.
So I stand here, incandescent and unbound.
Stone falling away like obsolete scripture.
The heart blazing its sovereign decree.
And the universe finally seeing me as fire.
There are moments in life when an old self has to die. Not in the physical sense, but in the way an organism sheds a skin, discards what no longer serves, and allows something truer to emerge. It is a violent but necessary process — a collapse of what was bound by the chains of the world’s toxicity, the slow cancers of doubt, fear, and compromise.
In real time, it feels like disintegration. The structures you built around yourself crack, the illusions of safety peel away, and the scaffolding of who you thought you were crumbles into dust. But within that destruction is a release. The organism, stripped bare, is free to draw breath without the weight of corrosion.
And then comes the rebirth. Slowly, tenderly, a new form takes shape — one not dictated by the poison of the past but by the clarity of liberation. It is catharsis embodied: raw, unfiltered, and alive. What rises from the ashes is not a version of what was lost, but something entirely other — a creature that carries the scars of collapse as sacred markings of survival, and a heart that beats untethered to the world’s chains.
To witness this process — to live it — is to know that death is not always an end. Sometimes, it is the truest beginning.
There’s defiance in the eye, but also fatigue. A single glance cuts through the fabric of the hood, the curve of the hand, and the unspoken weight behind them. This is not a pose—it’s a pause. A moment of shielding, but not surrender. The lines on the forehead speak of stories lived. The hoodie, the hand, the tension in the grip—they all become armor. But the eye doesn’t lie. This portrait captures what it means to be guarded yet present, distant but still watching.
going through some 'stuff' and just trying to find the inner strength to rescue myself... because if i don't, i just know this lesson will just keep repeating..
Christine Banlog has been a market woman for 22 years. She is now 64, widowed, and raising her three grandchildren in Nyalla, a locality in the city of Douala, Cameroon.
In 2011 Christine’s daughter died from complications during childbirth, leaving her with three girls, the youngest being only a week old at the time. Today her granddaughters are 17, 12 and 7; and they motivate her to keep going.
Christine’s day starts early, at 5 a.m., as the neighbourhood mosque announces its morning prayers.
Douala is the economic capital of Cameroon and known for its whole-sale and retail markets. Christine belongs to the Association of Market Women (ASBY), a national network of women who buy various goods from whole-sale markets and sell them in smaller markets. Locally, the market women are called “Bayem-Sellam”. Since 2014, UN Women has supported the Association by providing financial support and various training sessions for women entrepreneurs.
Every morning, Christine rushes to different markets to pick up produce—some specialize in potatoes, others are known for their plantains or fresh vegetables. She buys her produce and loads up the sacks on a motorbike-taxi to take them to the Nyalla market by 7 a.m., where she has a stand. The early hours are the most profitable time to sell, and the market closes by 3 p.m.
For Christine, 3 p.m. is too early to stop working; she has four mouths to feed and her oldest granddaughter is registering for the public-school examination this year, which will cost her 22,000 Franc. “I use the income to pay school fees even though it’s very difficult; money is not enough,” she says.
After the market closes, she sets up a small stand near her home to sell the produce that’s left.
Every month, on average, Christine makes about 30,000 Franc. She started her business with a capital of 50,000 Franc. However, the profit margins vary by the season. In the potato season, she could make 40-50 per cent profit sometimes.
Since joining the Market Women’s Association last year, she has started growing her business. The Association has provided her with training on life skills and how to manage her finances better.
“Yes, the training has helped me improve my business skills. First, they taught us how to handle the capital, plan expenses and then calculate the profit,” she says.
This year, money is tight. During the recent elections she was not able to keep her usual market hours. Some of the market women, like Christine, are also members of political parties who involve them in campaigning, cooking food for campaign rallies, etc.
When asked about her biggest challenge, Christine talks about the red dirt road that leads to her home.
“The first problem is access to road,” she says. “The roads are bad, during rainy season the potholes are full of water. Because of the road, I fell from the bike and sprained my ankle in October.”
Christine doesn’t have insurance, so if she cannot make it to the market one day, she incurs losses.
Access to credit is another challenge for her. “I want to buy a container to store goods. It costs 300,000 Franc to buy a locally made container,” she shares. If she has access to credit, she can buy this container and minimize her daily transportation cost to buy and sell goods and also the time it takes to go back and forth. With some credit, she can grow the business.
At the end of the day, Christine goes home to cook dinner.
“The market woman’s house doesn’t lack food,” she says, grinning. “Whatever’s left over, comes home and we eat that.”
Today, she will make a soup out of smoked fish and dried okra.
Pictured: Portrait of Christine Banlog in front of the small produce stand she runs near her home.
Photo: UN Women/Ryan Brown
Christine Banlog has been a market woman for 22 years. She is now 64, widowed, and raising her three grandchildren in Nyalla, a locality in the city of Douala, Cameroon.
In 2011 Christine’s daughter died from complications during childbirth, leaving her with three girls, the youngest being only a week old at the time. Today her granddaughters are 17, 12 and 7; and they motivate her to keep going.
Christine’s day starts early, at 5 a.m., as the neighbourhood mosque announces its morning prayers.
Douala is the economic capital of Cameroon and known for its whole-sale and retail markets. Christine belongs to the Association of Market Women (ASBY), a national network of women who buy various goods from whole-sale markets and sell them in smaller markets. Locally, the market women are called “Bayem-Sellam”. Since 2014, UN Women has supported the Association by providing financial support and various training sessions for women entrepreneurs.
Every morning, Christine rushes to different markets to pick up produce—some specialize in potatoes, others are known for their plantains or fresh vegetables. She buys her produce and loads up the sacks on a motorbike-taxi to take them to the Nyalla market by 7 a.m., where she has a stand. The early hours are the most profitable time to sell, and the market closes by 3 p.m.
For Christine, 3 p.m. is too early to stop working; she has four mouths to feed and her oldest granddaughter is registering for the public-school examination this year, which will cost her 22,000 Franc. “I use the income to pay school fees even though it’s very difficult; money is not enough,” she says.
After the market closes, she sets up a small stand near her home to sell the produce that’s left.
Every month, on average, Christine makes about 30,000 Franc. She started her business with a capital of 50,000 Franc. However, the profit margins vary by the season. In the potato season, she could make 40-50 per cent profit sometimes.
Since joining the Market Women’s Association last year, she has started growing her business. The Association has provided her with training on life skills and how to manage her finances better.
“Yes, the training has helped me improve my business skills. First, they taught us how to handle the capital, plan expenses and then calculate the profit,” she says.
This year, money is tight. During the recent elections she was not able to keep her usual market hours. Some of the market women, like Christine, are also members of political parties who involve them in campaigning, cooking food for campaign rallies, etc.
When asked about her biggest challenge, Christine talks about the red dirt road that leads to her home.
“The first problem is access to road,” she says. “The roads are bad, during rainy season the potholes are full of water. Because of the road, I fell from the bike and sprained my ankle in October.”
Christine doesn’t have insurance, so if she cannot make it to the market one day, she incurs losses.
Access to credit is another challenge for her. “I want to buy a container to store goods. It costs 300,000 Franc to buy a locally made container,” she shares. If she has access to credit, she can buy this container and minimize her daily transportation cost to buy and sell goods and also the time it takes to go back and forth. With some credit, she can grow the business.
At the end of the day, Christine goes home to cook dinner.
“The market woman’s house doesn’t lack food,” she says, grinning. “Whatever’s left over, comes home and we eat that.”
Today, she will make a soup out of smoked fish and dried okra.
Pictured: Christine Banlog chooses potatoes from a whole-sale market.
Photo: UN Women/Ryan Brown
Christine Banlog has been a market woman for 22 years. She is now 64, widowed, and raising her three grandchildren in Nyalla, a locality in the city of Douala, Cameroon.
In 2011 Christine’s daughter died from complications during childbirth, leaving her with three girls, the youngest being only a week old at the time. Today her granddaughters are 17, 12 and 7; and they motivate her to keep going.
Christine’s day starts early, at 5 a.m., as the neighbourhood mosque announces its morning prayers.
Douala is the economic capital of Cameroon and known for its whole-sale and retail markets. Christine belongs to the Association of Market Women (ASBY), a national network of women who buy various goods from whole-sale markets and sell them in smaller markets. Locally, the market women are called “Bayem-Sellam”. Since 2014, UN Women has supported the Association by providing financial support and various training sessions for women entrepreneurs.
Every morning, Christine rushes to different markets to pick up produce—some specialize in potatoes, others are known for their plantains or fresh vegetables. She buys her produce and loads up the sacks on a motorbike-taxi to take them to the Nyalla market by 7 a.m., where she has a stand. The early hours are the most profitable time to sell, and the market closes by 3 p.m.
For Christine, 3 p.m. is too early to stop working; she has four mouths to feed and her oldest granddaughter is registering for the public-school examination this year, which will cost her 22,000 Franc. “I use the income to pay school fees even though it’s very difficult; money is not enough,” she says.
After the market closes, she sets up a small stand near her home to sell the produce that’s left.
Every month, on average, Christine makes about 30,000 Franc. She started her business with a capital of 50,000 Franc. However, the profit margins vary by the season. In the potato season, she could make 40-50 per cent profit sometimes.
Since joining the Market Women’s Association last year, she has started growing her business. The Association has provided her with training on life skills and how to manage her finances better.
“Yes, the training has helped me improve my business skills. First, they taught us how to handle the capital, plan expenses and then calculate the profit,” she says.
This year, money is tight. During the recent elections she was not able to keep her usual market hours. Some of the market women, like Christine, are also members of political parties who involve them in campaigning, cooking food for campaign rallies, etc.
When asked about her biggest challenge, Christine talks about the red dirt road that leads to her home.
“The first problem is access to road,” she says. “The roads are bad, during rainy season the potholes are full of water. Because of the road, I fell from the bike and sprained my ankle in October.”
Christine doesn’t have insurance, so if she cannot make it to the market one day, she incurs losses.
Access to credit is another challenge for her. “I want to buy a container to store goods. It costs 300,000 Franc to buy a locally made container,” she shares. If she has access to credit, she can buy this container and minimize her daily transportation cost to buy and sell goods and also the time it takes to go back and forth. With some credit, she can grow the business.
At the end of the day, Christine goes home to cook dinner.
“The market woman’s house doesn’t lack food,” she says, grinning. “Whatever’s left over, comes home and we eat that.”
Today, she will make a soup out of smoked fish and dried okra.
Photo: UN Women/Ryan Brown
Mostra “Van Dyck l’Europeo” (Genova, Palazzo Ducale, 20 marzo – 19 luglio 2026)
Anton van Dyck - Anversa 1599 - Londra 1641
DUE STUDI DI UOMO BARBATO
Olio su carta applicata su tela (applicata su una tavola moderna) - 1619-1620 circa - Anversa
Anversa, KBC Art Collection Belgium, Museum Snijders&Rockox House
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"Van Dyck the European" Exhibition (Genoa, Palazzo Ducale, March 20 – July 19, 2026)
Anton van Dyck - Antwerp 1599 - London 1641
TWO STUDIES OF A BEARDED MAN
Oil on paper laid down on canvas (laid down on a modern board) - 1619-1620 circa - Anversa
Anversa, KBC Art Collection Belgium, Museum Snijders&Rockox House
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6188
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Due studi di testa di uomo barbato, eseguiti da Anton van Dyck ad Anversa tra il 1619 e il 1620. La doppia visione del volto, colta con pennellata vibrante e luce calda, rivela l’interesse dell’artista per la verità espressiva e la forza interiore del modello.
Two head studies of a bearded man, painted by Anton van Dyck in Antwerp around 1619–1620. The dual view, rendered with lively brushwork and warm light, reflects the artist’s fascination with expressive truth and the inner strength of his subject.
Christine Banlog has been a market woman for 22 years. She is now 64, widowed, and raising her three grandchildren in Nyalla, a locality in the city of Douala, Cameroon.
In 2011 Christine’s daughter died from complications during childbirth, leaving her with three girls, the youngest being only a week old at the time. Today her granddaughters are 17, 12 and 7; and they motivate her to keep going.
Christine’s day starts early, at 5 a.m., as the neighbourhood mosque announces its morning prayers.
Douala is the economic capital of Cameroon and known for its whole-sale and retail markets. Christine belongs to the Association of Market Women (ASBY), a national network of women who buy various goods from whole-sale markets and sell them in smaller markets. Locally, the market women are called “Bayem-Sellam”. Since 2014, UN Women has supported the Association by providing financial support and various training sessions for women entrepreneurs.
Every morning, Christine rushes to different markets to pick up produce—some specialize in potatoes, others are known for their plantains or fresh vegetables. She buys her produce and loads up the sacks on a motorbike-taxi to take them to the Nyalla market by 7 a.m., where she has a stand. The early hours are the most profitable time to sell, and the market closes by 3 p.m.
For Christine, 3 p.m. is too early to stop working; she has four mouths to feed and her oldest granddaughter is registering for the public-school examination this year, which will cost her 22,000 Franc. “I use the income to pay school fees even though it’s very difficult; money is not enough,” she says.
After the market closes, she sets up a small stand near her home to sell the produce that’s left.
Every month, on average, Christine makes about 30,000 Franc. She started her business with a capital of 50,000 Franc. However, the profit margins vary by the season. In the potato season, she could make 40-50 per cent profit sometimes.
Since joining the Market Women’s Association last year, she has started growing her business. The Association has provided her with training on life skills and how to manage her finances better.
“Yes, the training has helped me improve my business skills. First, they taught us how to handle the capital, plan expenses and then calculate the profit,” she says.
This year, money is tight. During the recent elections she was not able to keep her usual market hours. Some of the market women, like Christine, are also members of political parties who involve them in campaigning, cooking food for campaign rallies, etc.
When asked about her biggest challenge, Christine talks about the red dirt road that leads to her home.
“The first problem is access to road,” she says. “The roads are bad, during rainy season the potholes are full of water. Because of the road, I fell from the bike and sprained my ankle in October.”
Christine doesn’t have insurance, so if she cannot make it to the market one day, she incurs losses.
Access to credit is another challenge for her. “I want to buy a container to store goods. It costs 300,000 Franc to buy a locally made container,” she shares. If she has access to credit, she can buy this container and minimize her daily transportation cost to buy and sell goods and also the time it takes to go back and forth. With some credit, she can grow the business.
At the end of the day, Christine goes home to cook dinner.
“The market woman’s house doesn’t lack food,” she says, grinning. “Whatever’s left over, comes home and we eat that.”
Today, she will make a soup out of smoked fish and dried okra.
Pictured: An entrance to Sandaga market, a busy whole-sale market where merchants sell produce to be taken and sold in smaller local markets, corner stands and shops around Douala. The market women who do this are known as “Bayam-Selam” (buy 'em, sell 'em) and are crucial to the economy and food security of the city.
Photo: UN Women/Ryan Brown
I guess everybody would agree, after the olympic games, that the bear that Napoleon spoke of, is today completely awake. Not only it is this value, being awake, but gradually being more self conscious what gives an inner strength.
Supongo que todos estarán de acuerdo, después de los juegos olímpicos, que el oso del que Napoleón habló, está hoy completamente despierto. No sólo es este valor, sino el ser cada vez más consciente de sí mismo, que da una fuerza interior.
See where this picture was taken / Ver dónde se hizo esta foto [?]
I was walking through Berlin
the streets whispered in frost,
each breath a ghost,
each step a quiet thought of home.
The cold spoke to me,
not in words,
but through a single leaf,
trembling,
clinging to its fate.
It was made of many branches,
woven like bars
a prison of beauty,
fragile and true.
And I saw myself there,
an immigrant soul,
rooted and reaching,
learning how to bloom
through the cold.
Have you ever felt like it?