India, Kerala or Kēraḷam, Backwaters.

Kerala’s from civilization almost untouched rich in fish, fertile unique backwaters, South India, a network of interconnected five large lakes linked by canals, both manmade, fed by 38 rivers & brackish lagoons extending nearly half the length of Kerala state. A labyrinthine system formed by almost 1.000 km of waterways lying parallel to the Arabian Sea coast, known as the “Malabar Coast”.

The backwaters have an exceptional ecosystem; freshwater from the rivers meets the seawater from the Arabian Sea, formed by the action of waves & shore currents creating low barrier islands across the mouths of the many rivers flowing down from the Western Ghats range.

A Thannermukkom Salt Water Barrier, preventing salt water from the sea is entering the deep inside, keeping the fresh water intact. Such fresh water is extensively used for irrigation purposes.

Numerous unique aquatic species including mudskippers, crabs, frogs, water birds such as kingfishers, darters, terns, darters & cormorants, animals like otters & turtles live in the backwaters area. Palm trees, pandanus bushes & other leafy plants grow alongside the backwaters, providing a green shade to the surrounding landscape.

📌….A great way to explore the “Kerala Backwaters” is by taking a tour with a “Kettuvallam”, a motorized houseboat, converted from a former barge, which was designed & constructed to be mainly used in the backwaters of Kerala, that were previously used to transport goods, rice, spices etc.

The size of a kettuvallam varies, but is typically around 30 m long & 4 m wide in the middle. It is made primarily from the wood of the Aanjilis tree, a tree in the jackfruit family, also bamboo is used. The frames & planks are connected with coconut or other palm fiber cords. Characteristic of a kettuvallam is the fact that not a single nail is used for the entire boat construction.

These days kettuvallam is mainly for tourist purposes, there are currently about a thousand of these houseboats, sounds like a lot, but they get lost in the huge backwater area, it also depends on the season. The regional government has stopped the construction of additional houseboats, only if a new boat will replace an old one, a permission will be extended.

There are simple Kettuvallam, with one apartment up to duplex with 10 apartments, swimming pool etc, with a fife star hotel luxury. Travel can be rented from one day/night flexible up to 10 days, longer by arrangement.

Since I lived in India for a few years, when I had to fly down on business to Kovalam & it was possible to take a few days of I/we used the opportunity at a suitable time to discover something new every time. Above all, I was able to get in touch with a fisherman who paddled with us through the small canals & also showed corners of the tourist track, including those where the sun went down like in a movie, places which you don't see otherwise as a tourist.

📍 ….The unique backwaters are a network of interconnected five large lakes linked by canals, both manmade, fed by 38 rivers & brackish lagoons extending nearly half the length of Kerala state. A labyrinthine system formed by almost 1.000 km of waterways lying parallel to the Arabian Sea coast, known as the “Malabar Coast”.

👉 One World one Dream,

🙏...Danke, Xièxie 谢谢, Thanks, Gracias, Merci, Grazie, Obrigado, Arigatô, Dhanyavad, Chokrane to you & over

17 million visits in my photostream with countless motivating comments

The labyrinthine intricacy of the whole structure is impossible to convey in photographs, but little details here and there, like this wall ornament, indicate that it was once a refined residence. We kept going up...

Hidden deep in the Mystic Isles of Avalonia lies the home of Henjin Quilones and an order of Druids. Sharing the island is Henjin's wife, the elf Galaria, and her band of dragonriders, as well as the dragons themselves and a small army of support staff. The dragons live in the caves on the southern face of the island, and the humans live in buildings erected on the surface as well as in a labyrinthine complex of tunnels and caves that honeycomb the island.

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Expanding from my original 12x12 vignette from the Summer Joust, I present the full 50x50 build of the Isle of Druidham. The build is ultimately for the Guilds of Historica on Eurobricks. If you haven't already, you should join!

More pictures can be found here, including views of all four sides.

For years, I carried the dream of capturing a fleeting moment with a maiko, a symbol of grace and tradition in the enchanting streets of Gion, Kyoto. The pursuit of such a photograph is a delicate dance, as the chances of encountering a maiko who meets your lens with a knowing gaze are slim to none. But destiny smiled upon me, and after three nights of anticipation, I was blessed with this treasured image that exceeded all my expectations.

In this frame, the magic unfolds before us—a maiko, resplendent in her vibrant kimono, just a step away from her okiya, ready to embark on a night of captivating performances. The world around her fades into the background as she glances directly into my lens, revealing a glimpse of her captivating spirit. The door closes behind her, and she vanishes into the labyrinthine streets of Gion, where secrets and traditions intertwine.

This photograph encapsulates the culmination of a dream and the dedication that lies behind each elusive encounter. It is a testament to the beauty and mystique that defines the world of geisha culture, where fleeting moments are treasured like precious gems. With gratitude and joy, I share this image, forever cherishing the memory of that serendipitous encounter in the heart of Gion.

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© Marcus Antonius Braun

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La señorial plaza des Born es el centro neurálgico de Ciutadella, el núcleo de la ciudad del que emerge un laberíntico circuito de callejuelas y pórticos con mucho encanto. En el medio de la antigua plaza de armas preside el obelisco des Born; un monumento de veintidós metros de altura datado del siglo XIX, que conmemora la resistencia y la derrota de la ciudad por parte de los turcos en 1558, que saquearon e incendiaron la ciudad y se llevaron a Constantinopla a cerca de cuatro mil cautivos.

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The stately plaza des Born is the nerve center of Ciutadella, the heart of the city from which emerges a labyrinthine circuit of narrow streets and porticos with a lot of charm. In the middle of the old square of arms presides the obelisk des Born; a monument of twenty-two meters high dating from the nineteenth century, which commemorates the resistance and defeat of the city by the Turks in 1558, who looted and burned the city and took to Constantinople about four thousand captives.

MIS ALBUMNES

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Vouliagmeni Lake is at the centre of a wider region marked by an exceptional coastline, with beautiful beaches and hillsides hidden in the shadows of pine trees. It is where nature of the Mediterranean finds its best expression.

The imposing rock, thermal waters, the labyrinthine underwater tunnels and the lush vegetation create a unique geological phenomenon. The lake’s present form was created after the roof of the cave fell because of erosion caused by the high temperature of the running water running. The lake is included in Greece’s national NATURA 2000 network, and is classified as a protected wetland from the international RAMSAR Convention, while the Culture Ministry has labelled it as a Place of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

Vouliagmeni Lake, in the heart of the Athenian Riviera, is the hidden treasure of Attica’s nature. Situated on an idyllic landscape, this rare geological phenomenon is waiting to be discovered. The lake’s brackish waters which are continuously replenished both by the sea and the underground thermal springs offer a natural and unique thermal spa experience.

The most impressive park in the Saxon metropolis is the 363-acre Grand Garden. Elector John George III started the Dresdeners' favorite park with its absolutely straight avenues in 1678, modeling it after French parks.

The Palace at the point where the avenues meet is a jewel of early Baroque, as are the gardens surrounding it. It is still used today for festive events in the middle of green surroundings. The rest of the Grand Garden is dominantly landscaped in the English style of labyrinthine paths, little forests, extensive meadows, bodies of water and tropical gardens.

In the summer, the open-air stages and the puppet theater are always popular. Other attractions include the Botanical Garden and the Dresden Zoo. For the journey into this wide landscape of adventure, visitors, young and old alike, prefer to take the miniature park railway, which is traditionally operated by Dresden schoolchildren.

www.schloesserland-sachsen.de/en/palaces_castles_and_gard...

All images and textures used are my own.

As Clouseau investigates the baffling case, he finds a self portrait. Left by the killer in a brazen challenge?

Clouseau is no longer sure if he is caught up in a labyrinthine investigation...

...or a really bad wordplay.

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A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.

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Entering this 25-acre sculpture garden is like falling down a rabbit hole into the labyrinthine interior of one man's imagination.

- Lonely Planet

Wikipedia

Coming back from Thailand after a yoga retreat in Bangkok, the plane stops at Doha airport in Qatar. This modern building is filled with unusual lines, spaces, shapes and curves that are complemented by their own reflections in the shinny marble flooring underfoot, beckoning on weary travellers through the otherworldly opulence of this labyrinthine structure, till they arrive at their respective departure gates. When looking down, one can be forgiven for feeling as though they are walking on water; the slightly imperfect undulating surface causes rippled reflections of self and other, much like one might see in the still calm of a morning lake. As travellers fleetingly pass through this mesmerising desert gateway leading to the rest of the world, they wander around the shopping malls, gazing at luxury goods and wares that seem to lie just out of reasonable reach.

A man stops to take a selfie while standing in front of the latest Porche sports car, smiling as if having found the promise of all that is good and wonderful in the world.

As this shot was taken, security guards looked on in an indignant fashion, sometimes staring at wherever the camera was pointed to see what was being captured… But after several moments of looking at the normal scene in front of them, their gaze would return to the travellers passing by, getting ready to depart this antechamber of inequity.

Fallen Leaves

by Deane P. Goodwin

Evening approaches, gentle breeze blowing

My chimes ring a bittersweet song of fall color

chanting prayers and singing

Praises of the circle

Renewal awaits in the colors of the sun

Rising to the heavens on Golden Eagles' wing

Prayer defined as action defined as prayer

The wheel turns

In the center stands, unmoved, the Mother

Guardian of love and life

Nurturing arms upraised for all

Life in the spiral

Leaves,the sacrifice

Labyrinthine dance conjured by ancient Shamen

In amber salute to the dream

Promise, made on the smoke of Autumn's fire

Recognition of

Truth handed down so long ago

Leaves from golden

Become

Green

Alive

And we sing

Praises of the circle

This charming street scene captures the heart of Taormina, a picturesque town on the eastern coast of Sicily, Italy. Known since ancient times for its strategic position overlooking the Ionian Sea, Taormina was founded by the Greeks in the 4th century BCE and later flourished under Roman rule. The distant arched gate in the image is a reminder of the town's medieval fortifications, a layer added centuries later to protect the hillside settlement. The narrow street reflects the typical medieval layout, designed for foot traffic rather than vehicles, preserving the town's historical character.

Architecturally, the scene showcases a harmonious blend of styles. The buildings, adorned with wrought iron balconies and flower pots, reveal both Baroque and Norman influences' a result of Sicily's diverse history of occupation by Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans, and Spanish rulers. The cobblestone street, still glistening from a recent rain, enhances the timeless ambiance. Decorative stonework and stucco facades lend a warm, rustic charm, while modern signs like the "Kodak" shop blend subtly into the historic aesthetic, reflecting Taormina's adaptation to tourism.

Tourism is one of Taormina's main lifelines. This town has long drawn visitors' from European aristocrats of the 19th century to modern cruise passengers and film lovers (it hosts the annual Taormina Film Festival). The crowd in the photo, a mix of international tourists in rain ponchos and locals, highlights the town's status as a global destination. Attractions such as the ancient Greek Theatre, still used today for concerts with Mount Etna as a dramatic backdrop, are only minutes away on foot.

Culinary traditions in Taormina are as rich as its history. Local trattorias serve classic Sicilian dishes like arancini (stuffed rice balls), pasta alla Norma, and freshly caught seafood. Sweet lovers flock to try cannoli and granita with brioche, often enjoyed at cafes tucked into the labyrinthine alleys. Many restaurants use regional ingredients like capers, olives, and citrus' a flavorful reflection of the island's fertile volcanic soil. This vibrant street scene, alive with movement and color, encapsulates the soul of Taormina: a living museum where history, culture, and the pleasures of life seamlessly converge.

RX_02512_20240509_Taormina

Transplanting

BY LEE ANN RORIPAUGH

For my mother, Yoshiko Horikoshi Roripaugh

1. X-Ray

My mother carried the chest x-ray

in her lap on the plane, inside

a manila envelope that read

Do Not Bend and, garnished

with leis at the Honolulu Airport,

waited in line—this strange image

of ribcage, chain-link vertebrae,

pearled milk of lung, and the murky

enigmatic chambers of her heart

in hand. Until it was her turn

and the immigration officer held

the black-and-white film up

to sun, light pierced clean through

her, and she was ushered from one

life through the gate of another,

wreathed in the dubious and illusory

perfume of plucked orchids.

2. Ceramic Pig

Newly arrived in New Mexico,

stiff and crisp in new dungarees,

her honeymoon, they drove

into the mountains in a borrowed car,

spiraling up and up toward the rumor

of deer, into the green tangy turpentine

scent of pine, where air crackled

with the sizzling collision of bees,

furred legs grappling velvet bodies

as they mated midair, and where

they came upon the disconsolate gaze

of a Madonna alcoved against

the side of the road, her feet wreathed

in candles, fruit, flowers, and other

offerings. Nearby, a vendor

with a wooden plank balanced between

two folding chairs and the glossy

row of ceramic pigs lined up across,

brilliant glaze shimmering the heat.

My mother fell in love with the red-

and-blue splash of flowers tattooed

into fat flanks and bellies, the green

arabesques of stem and leaf circling

hoof, snout, and ear. So exotic.

Years later she still describes the pig

with a sigh—heartbroken, the word

she chooses with careful consideration.

She’d filled the pig with Kennedy dollars

from the grocery budget, each half dollar

a small luxury denied at the local

Piggly Wiggly, until one day, jingling

the shift and clink of the pig’s

growing silver weight, she shook

too hard, and as if the hoarded wealth

of her future were too much to contain,

the pig broke open—spilling coins

like water, a cold shiny music, into her lap—

fragments of bright pottery shards

scattering delicate as Easter eggshell.

3. Sneeze

My mother sneezes in Japanese. Ké-sho!

An exclamation of surprise—two sharp

crisp syllables before pulling out

the neatly folded and quartered tissue

she keeps tucked inside the wrist

of her sweater sleeve. Sometimes,

when ragweed blooms, I wonder why

her sneeze isn’t mine, why something

so involuntary, so deeply rooted

in the seed of speech, breaks free from

my mouth like thistle in a stiff breeze,

in a language other than my mother’s

tongue. How do you chart the diaspora

of a sneeze? I don’t know how

you turned out this way, she always

tells me, and I think that we are each

her own moon—one face in shadow,

undisclosed seas and surprising mountains,

rotating in the circular music

of separate spheres, but held in orbit

by the gravitational muscle

of the same mercurial spinning heart.

4. Dalmatian

There is an art to this. To shish

kebab the varnished pit of avocado

on three toothpicks above a pickle jar

of cool water, tease down the pale

thirsty hairs of root until one sinewy

arm punches up and unclenches its green

fisted hand, palm open, to the sun.

To discern the oniony star-struck

subterfuge of bulbs, their perverse

desires, death-like sleeps, and conspire

behind the scenes to embroider

the Elizabethan ruffles and festoons

of their flamboyant resurrections.

To trick the tomatoes into letting down

their swelling, tumescent orbs

in the cottony baked heat of the attic

until their sunburnt faces glow

like round orange lanterns under

the crepuscular twilight of the eaves.

Unwrapping the cuttings of succulents

from their moist, paper-towel bandages,

and snugging them down into firm

dimples of dirt and peat, coaxing up

the apple-green serpentine coils of sweet

pea with a snake charmer’s song to wind

around the trellis and flicker their quick

pink-petaled tongues. The tender slips

of mint, sueded upturned bells of petunia,

and slim fingers of pine that pluck

the metal window screen like a tin harp

by the breakfast nook where my father

stirs his morning coffee and waits

for the neighbors’ Dalmatian to hurl

itself over the back fence and hang,

limply twisting and gasping on the end

of its chain and collar like a polka-dotted

petticoat, until my father goes outside

and takes its baleful kicking weight

in his arms and gently tosses it back

over the fence into the neighbors’ yard.

Year after year, the dandelions

and clover are weeded out, summers

come and go, and roots stubbornly inch

down around the foundation of the house—

labyrinthine, powerful and deep.

5. Japanese Apple

She was given an apple on the plane,

round and fragrant with the scent

of her grandfather’s fruit orchards

during autumn, when chestnuts

dropped from their trees and struck

the metal rooftop like the small heavy

tongues of bells, and black dragon-

flies like quick shiny needles darted

in and out of the spin and turn

of leaves fluttering down like soft

bright scraps of silk. She wrapped

the apple in a napkin to save

for later, and it was confiscated

at customs before she had the chance

for even a taste. Over the years it

seemed to grow larger, yellower, juicier

and more delicious, and even though

there were burnished rows of apples

stacked in gleaming pyramids

at the supermarket with quaint

names like Macintosh, Winesap,

and Granny Smith, and even though

there were sunlit apple orchards

at my American grandfather’s ranch,

where rattlesnakes slumbered

in the heat and redolence of fruit

flesh, frightening the horses,

she sampled one after another,

but they never tasted as sweet

or as bright as the apple taken from her,

the one she had to leave behind.

Lee Ann Roripaugh, “Transplanting” from Year of the Snake. Copyright © 2004 by Lee Ann Roripaugh. Reprinted by permission of Southern Illinois University Press.

Source: Year of the Snake (Southern Illinois University Press, 2004)

I started a new fb page, since my other one disappeared. :(

Recently, though, entrepreneurs have returned home after stints in Rome and Milan and given new life to the city, which will be 2019’s European Capital of Culture. Thankfully, they’ve allowed the place to speak for itself — opening elegant hotels with vaulted cave rooms and restaurants that offer refined takes on local classics, like orecchiette with fennel sausage served with chewy semolina bread. The best way to appreciate the city’s labyrinthine layout is on foot. Wandering the Sasso Caveoso, visitors shouldn’t be surprised to find themselves standing on a ninth-century graveyard, across from an impeccable Baroque palazzo and above an 11th-century church-turned-family home, where 700-year-old frescoes still color the calcareous walls.

India, Kerala or Kēraḷam, Backwaters.

Kerala’s from civilization almost untouched rich in fish, fertile unique backwaters.

Water Buffalos;

The water buffalo is a large, up to 3m long & heavy, strong cattle. The head is long, narrow, with small ears & set low on the body. The horns are horizontal & sickle-shaped backwards, these can reach a span of two meters, the horns of the female are significantly narrower & shorter than the males. The water buffalo stands on long, strong legs with wide hooves, the claws are spread wide, so the water buffalo don't sink into their swampy habitat.

📍… The wild water buffalo is listed as an endangered species, estimated about only 1000 water buffalos are still living in Asia.

Grasses, herbs & aquatic plants are the main part of his diet, but also leaves & small branches, he feeds exclusively vegetarian.

If the herd lives near humans, the water buffalo will also eat cultivated grain. Water buffalos are ruminants; searching for food, wild water buffalos they usually go in small groups split off from the main group, only looking for food in the evening hours.

👉….At 7 to 8%, buffalo milk contains almost twice as much fat as cow's milk. It is used to make the real mozzarella cheese in Italy, the "Mozzarella di Bufala campana", while the delicious “Burrata” is mainly made from cow's milk & rarely from water buffalo milk.

All European domestic water buffalos descend from the Asian wild water buffalo. Their domestication probably began 3000 years BC. in China, Pakistan & Iraq. In the 6th century they reached Europe via Bulgaria & Greece.

Today the European water buffalo is mainly found in Italy, Bulgaria, Romania & Hungary.

📌…Kerala’s unique backwaters in South India, is a network of interconnected five large lakes linked by canals, both manmade, fed by 38 rivers & brackish lagoons extending nearly half the length of Kerala state. A labyrinthine system formed by almost 1.000 km of waterways lying parallel to the Arabian Sea coast, known as the “Malabar Coast”.

The backwaters have an exceptional ecosystem; freshwater from the rivers meets the seawater from the Arabian Sea, formed by the action of waves & shore currents creating low barrier islands across the mouths of the many rivers flowing down from the Western Ghats range.

A Thannermukkom Salt Water Barrier, preventing salt water from the sea is entering the deep inside, keeping the fresh water intact. Such fresh water is extensively used for irrigation purposes.

Numerous unique aquatic species including mudskippers, crabs, frogs, water birds such as kingfishers, darters, terns, darters & cormorants, animals like otters & turtles live in the backwaters area. Palm trees, pandanus bushes & other leafy plants grow alongside the backwaters, providing a green shade to the surrounding landscape.

In the middle of this landscape there are a number of towns & cities, which serve as the starting & end points of backwater cruises. The backwaters are one of the noticeable tourist attractions in Kerala.

👉 One World one Dream,

🙏...Danke, Xièxie 谢谢, Thanks, Gracias, Merci, Grazie, Obrigado, Arigatô, Dhanyavad, Chokrane to you & over

17 million visits in my photostream with countless motivating comments

The Gothic Quarter (Catalan: Barri Gòtic) is the centre of the old city of Barcelona. It stretches from La Rambla to Via Laietana, and from the Mediterranean seafront to Ronda de Sant Pere.

Despite several changes undergone in the 19th and early 20th century, many of the buildings date from Medieval times, some from as far back as the Roman settlement of Barcelona. Remains of the squared Roman Wall can be seen around Tapineria and Sots-Tinent Navarro to the north, Avinguda de la Catedral and Plaça Nova to the west and Carrer de la Palla to the south. El Call, the medieval Jewish quarter, is located within this area too.

The Barri Gòtic retains a labyrinthine street plan, with many small streets opening out into squares. Most of the quarter is closed to regular traffic although open to service vehicles and taxis.

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A looming brick façade runs nearly the length of a city block along Richmond Street West at Spadina Avenue. Enduring and unassuming, 401 Richmond, a heritage warehouse-turned arts and culture hub, holds its ground in the midst of towering developments. This Nuit Blanche, walk through the front doors and find yourself in a veritable urban oasis where warm brick walls, antique hardwood floors, and potted plants lining the labyrinthine hallways form the backdrop for an array of artist projects, all under one roof. Artists, cultural producers, microenterprises, galleries, festivals, and shops fill the building and give it life. At 401, the seeds of great ideas are nurtured and allowed to flourish. Support, growth, and life characterize many aspects of the building from its green spaces to its diverse tenant community, and underpin the themes for this year’s event. 401 Richmond offers A Secret Garden in the concrete jungle.

A heritage building filled with a vibrant mix of installations, performances, tenant-gallery exhibitions and more!

Source: nbto.com/project.html?project_id=198

Touring Cricova Winery, Cricova, Moldova.

Cricova is a Moldovan winery, located in the town with the same name, 15 kilometers (9.3 mi) north of Chisinau. Famous wine cellars make it a popular attraction for tourists.

The wine cellars of Cricova is the second largest wine cellar in Moldova, after Milestii Mici (largest in the world). It boasts a mere 120 kilometers (75 mi) of labyrinthine roadways, versus MM's 200 kilometers (120 mi), tunnels have existed under Cricova since the 15th century, when limestone was dug out to help build Chisinau. They were converted into an underground wine emporium in the 1950s.

Half of the roadways are used for wine storage. The roads are named by the wines they store. This "wine city" has its warehouses, tasting rooms and other facilities underground. It goes down to 100 meters (330 ft) below ground and holds 1.25 million bottles of rare wine. The oldest wine dates back to 1902. The temperature is maintained at about 12 °C (54 °F) all year round (which is perfect for wine). This place is especially famous for hiding Jews in wine barrels during the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union.

For video, please visit youtu.be/MPj7d5O-BV0

The Kerala backwaters are a network of brackish lagoons and lakes lying parallel to the Arabian Sea coast (known as the Malabar Coast) of Kerala state in southern India, as well as interconnected canals, rivers, and inlets, a labyrinthine system formed by more than 900 kilometres of waterways, and sometimes compared to American bayous.

The islet of Ortigia is the historical heart of the city of Syracuse, also known as Città Vecchia (Old City). It contains many historical landmarks. The name originates from the Ancient Greek ortyx (ὄρτυξ), which means "Quail".

Within its area of one square kilometer island that measures just 1km by 500m, it is possible to admire the architectural beauties of different historical periods: from the first prehistoric settlements, through the numerous remains of ancient Greek Byzantine and Norman.

Quails’ Land, refuge of gulls, quiet harbor or simply U ‘Scogghiu (the rock), as it is called by its inhabitants, the island of Ortigia takes over the centuries different names and titles, which always leave intact its identity as a welcoming place.

During their millennial processes, the Sea and the Sirocco wind shaped its landscape and molded its character, marking the destiny of this part of Sicily. Situated in a halfway between East and West, between Carthage and Rome, Ortigia welcomed Greek and Christian ships in the arms of its port, and that’s why along its labyrinthine alleys and through its many squares, you can live a unique experience and breathe the scent of the Mediterranean Sea.

‘Discovering Ortigia‘ means come into contact with different cultures, but above all to know Sicily in its most intimate aspects. Palazzi, courtyards, churches and monasteries give way to temples, castles and fountains, composing a fine white stone mosaic, which precious tiles shine in the sun.

would you give me ride that I can fly

castlesburninginourhearts.blogspot.com/

Vatnajökull National Park, Iceland

Ice caves come in all shapes and sizes. Many occur in and around glaciers, when meltwater carves out tunnels underneath the ice. The results are incredible – and often dangerous – structures, which stun the senses with their ephemeral beauty. The Vatnajökull National Park on the south coast of Iceland has many subglacial ice caves, the majority of which are cramped and over-touristed. However, if conditions are just right, it is possible to visit a different type of ice cave. When the glacial lakes freeze, giant icebergs become trapped and the wind hollows out labyrinthine mazes of blue ice. Access requires a specialist ice guide and should not be attempted without one, but walking alone through the nostril of a sleeping ice giant is a unique and special experience. With local heroes @thor_photography and Ásmundur Ásmundsson (ice guide / model).

New website: www.djoburton.com

Travel | Photography | Text

Ashen

“We have art in order not to die of the truth.” F. Nietzsche

Wise men say that the dark is older than the light. They say it reaches further and that no matter how swiftly the light travels it finds that all it touches was first in darkness.

The nine realms move among Yggdrasil’s many branches, and the world tree stands upon the darkness, her roots delving into caverns where light will never venture.

But what few know is that there is a forest, and above it stars that are as different from our own as the acorn is from the oak.

Among those stars the Ashen fly. Some say they are the light, but in truth they are of the light, each wing a spectrum spread across the void, brilliance coursing through their veins.

The darkness is old but it is the beat of Ashen wings that first counted time. It was when a single great Ashen flew down to rest upon Yggdrasil’s boughs that the light woke among the realms. Time shed its fetters and drew breath. The tree came into bud, and leaves brought the first colour seen only by the Ashen’s eyes.

Time is its own tide and though the Ashen are immortal theirs is an immortality forged from an infinite cycle between life and death. In time the great Ashen fell from the tree of worlds and lay in splendour, resting upon the plains of darkness in the eternal forest, drawing what few breaths remained to it.

Even then the light was dying but still it remained, and the Ashen’s final three breaths became the three ages of our world.

They say the dark is empty, but it is not so. The Bral dwell in the ancient night and they are legion. Their nature and form offer endless variety. A few as old as the Ashen themselves. A multitude newborn from the blackness.

When the Ashen fell there were some few among the many races of the Bral drawn to the great beast, drawn by the pollution of its blood, both fascinated and repelled.

These scavengers crawled from the utter dark and burrowed amid its feathers. A multitude living and dying. Generation upon generation, breeding and building, all within the space of one breath. The Ashen’s dying light was something they both craved and despised. It ate at them, turning night-flesh to dust and ash and cinders, but it filled them with such power, such possibility. And it changed them.

By the second breath the Bral who dwelled upon the Ashen’s vastness had spawned new forms. Some slithered back into the dark. Some fought and died. One form prevailed. The age of the Listeners had arrived.

Much has been left over from the many previous ages of light.

The Listeners had new senses, suited to their new age. They had eyes to perceive the light and in its name they built great temples, glorifying the brilliance that sustained them.

By the drawing of the final breath the light had died to a glimmer. The Listeners mourned it in labyrinthine dungeons. The Ashen lay as a dead thing, covered with the skins shed by countless Bral as they had twisted into their new existence. The world the Listeners had made upon its failing body stood dim and drifted with ash, its plants and animals dying too.

It was then that the Gefn came, or perhaps returned, swimming from the umbral seas. She forced a final change upon the children of the Bral, taking a Listener as her mate, entwining with his spirit and birthing the first man. Born in the image of the Listeners the first man was smaller, his eyes bigger and more acute, better suited to the greying world. His form he took from his father. From his mother he took his soul. Adaptable, inquisitive, filled with the urge to explore. When the final breath ended there would be an age of darkness where nothing but glimmers remained, echoing through the ashes of their ancestors. In such an age mankind would need their mother’s gifts.

In that dark age the cities of men fell into ruin, proud Lathyrus drowned beneath the ash, a dozen others toppled by war or emptied by pestilence and famine. But Gefn’s children clung on. A remnant, shorn of their history, wandering, scavenging, surviving.

And now, as the Ashen is reborn from the ruins of its own body, it will be mankind who decide the future. Something so small steering the destiny of something so great. A new age has come, the first of many before the Ashen once again takes flight into endless possibility. This is the age of man. And the ages that follow will be their legacy.

In the heart of the city, nestled within the labyrinthine alleys, there stood a small, inconspicuous bar known as "The Good Bar." Its dimly lit interior and vintage decor drew patrons seeking refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Yet, beneath the guise of a quaint local haunt, a female vampire named Quinn found her hunting ground.

Quinn was a creature of the night, blessed with timeless beauty and cursed with an insatiable thirst for blood. Her auburn hair framed her porcelain skin, and her green eyes shone with a predatory glint. Over the centuries, she had perfected the art of blending in with humans, masking her true nature with a veneer of charm and grace.

Each night, she prowled the city, her senses attuned to the whispers of the night. The Good Bar was her preferred hunting ground, a place where loneliness and desperation mingled in the air, making it easy to find willing prey. She would slip inside, her presence unnoticed as she moved among the patrons, her crimson lips curling into a seductive smile.

On one fateful evening, Quinn’s gaze landed on an appearing lonely soul named Benjamin, nursing his whiskey at the far end of the bar. He had the melancholic aura she craved—a soul ripe for her taking. With the grace of a siren, she approached him, her voice like honey as she struck up a conversation. As they conversed, she could tell there was something different about him even if she couldn’t quite place what it was, and she could sense his watchful eyes upon her. Benjamin, readily engaged in conversation. They shared stories and laughter, his guard appearing to lower with each passing minute. As the night wore on, the more they spoke, the more intrigued Quinn became. His knowledge of the occult and the supernatural fascinated her, making her question the danger she might be inviting. With a gentle touch, Quinn whispered in his ear, "Would you like to see something truly extraordinary?" Benjamin nodded eagerly and taking his hand she led him out of the bar, their footsteps echoing in the deserted alleyways as they made their way to her apartment building. As they approached her apartment door, the anticipation hung in the air like an electric charge. The tension grew palpable as Quinn reached for the doorknob. Benjamin watched her every move.

As the door creaked open, revealing the enigmatic world within…

**Wrote by Harper Blackwood

© Claire DUCREUX

CANON EOS 700D

Le jardin de la Forêt du Lion (狮子林园) est un jardin chinois situé dans le district de Pingjiang à Suzhou, en Chine.

Il est célèbre pour sa grotte de roches en son centre, lesquelles donnent le nom au jardin par leur ressemblance à un lion. Le jardin est classé avec d'autres jardins typiques de Suzhou en tant que site du patrimoine mondial.

The Lion Grove Garden (狮子林园) is a garden located in Pingjiang District, Suzhou, Jiangsu, China. The garden is famous for the large and labyrinthine grotto of taihu rocks at its center. The name of the garden is derived from the shape of these rocks, which are said to resemble lions. The garden is recognized with other classical gardens in Suzhou as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Sources: Wikipedia

My first visit to Sascha's new shop which is rather lovely. The old shop was massive, a bit too slow on my computer and rather labyrinthine, so I probably didn't browse around there as much as I would've liked. The new shop is much more open and easy to navigate. I took lots of demos and freebies, but the thing that really caught my eye was this Gigi dress. Wow. I don't know which colour I like best!

The ancient city of Aphrodisias, once the capital of the province of Lydia, is located near the village of Geyre in the district of Karacasu . The history of the city can be traced back to the early bronze age and there is even clear evidence of a chalcolithic culture prior to the 3rd millennium B.C. The use of the name Aphrodisias began after the 3rd century B.C., in the Hellenistic period.

The wealth and cultural and political importance of the city is clearly attested by the size and magnificence of the buildings of which it is composed.The name Aphrodisias is derived from Aphrodite, the goddess of nature, beauty, love and plenty, and was one of the most famous cult centres of the goddess.

The baths of Hadrian constructed in the 2nd century during the reign of the Emperor Hadrian. This complex consists of a large central hall, probably the caldarium or hot room, surrounded. by four large rooms, the tepidarium, sýýdatorium, apoditerium and frigidarium (warm room, sweating room, dressing room and cold room respectively).

It is a most imposing building with all the requisite facilities, such as labyrinthine underground service corridors, water channels and furnaces.

www.turizm.net/cities/aphrodisias/

I had no idea that Jersey fell under Nazi occupation during the 2nd World War. Intriguingly, it was the great man himself, Churchill who felt the citizens of Jersey where not worth rescuing from the appalling reign of terror.

You can feel the damp, cold, fear and horror exuding from the walls and the labyrinthine tunnels. The tunnels were carved out by slave labour from Jersey, Europe and beyond. Originally built as a hospital for Nazi soldiers, the hospital soon turned into an exercise in Nazi-style punishment and near-starvation for the labourers.

The present day state of the tunnels is both educative and creative; the mixture of entertaining history lessons and imaginative art "installations" provides an evocative and, at times, harrowing insight into the holocaust.

Jersey War Tunnels Website

www.jerseywartunnels.com/

:-)

Simon

The vast funerary complex of king Djoser at Saqqara is the earliest in Egypt to make extensive use of stone masonry. Inside the fortified perimeter are numerous courtyards and structures, with the step pyramid at the centre looming in the background. In the southeast of the complex is this long courtyard fronted by the facades of solid structures meant to symbolize pavilions for the gods; it has been extensively rebuilt in modern times based on architectural fragments fallen from the original monuments, the in situ foundations, and a good deal of imagination.

This is the famous Heb-Sed court, the space for holding a jubilee in honor of Djoser's 30th year of rule, and every third year thereafter. Relief panels about the event indicate that the king was obliged to prance about the court several times, in doing so demonstrating some continued vitality, and receive the red and white crown symbolizing the unified rule of Upper and Lower Egypt (a conquest that had occurred not that long before Djoser's time).

The architectural layout gives us some sense of what else might have happened here: the pavilions repeat the same format of a tent-like facade, made permanent through masonry construction. Before each pavilion, a staircase leads up to a large niche in the facade, and a labyrinthine passage leads to a hidden chapel at its base. Statues representing seated gods, only fragments of which have survived, were concealed in the chapels, and others must have occupied the niches above on display to the people gathered in the court. Seen here are the first of more than a dozen pavilions on the more elaborately developed west side of the court.

It seems that Djoser, the priests responsible for the funerary complex, and other officials would visit each pavilion in sequence and make sacrifices to their gods, each of which would have been affiliated with a different province of unified Egypt. Further interpretation is hampered by the singularity of this complex; while the staged mastaba tomb would inspire future generations to develop the pyramid, the monumental Heb-sed court was not a prominent element in later burial complexes.

Old Kingdom, early 3rd Dynasty, 27th century BCE.

castlesburninginourhearts.blogspot.com/

I looked at this image tonight and for some reason I thought of Greek mythology, particularly the story about Theseus and the minotaur's maze. Cities can have labyrinthine aspects to them: they are large, complex, easy to become lost in, and their twists and turns hide all manner of things to discover. But I wasn't thinking of mazes when I made this image, at least not consciously. On that day I was fascinated by the tower framed between the narrow walls of the two bordering buildings and something about the scale and perspective. These structures are all so massive, yet the one that is perhaps tallest of all looks dwarfed. I think both these notions - that of the maze and the latter ones from the day of this image's creation - serve to help bracket some larger understanding regarding how I experience cities that I know exists but I have not yet pinned down. In truth, I don't know if I will ever make it to the center of the maze of thoughts I have about our urban centers to discover that understanding that sits at its core, but I keep exploring around the edges of this maze, trying paths down one lane or another, shedding light on various corners (some well-trod, others a bit dusty).

All I know is that if I ever do find that center I will need more than a bit of string to find my way back out again.

Reality So Subtle 6x6

Fuji Acros 100

Welcome to the messy tangle that is the web of the Labyrinth Orbweaver. These spiders do spin a typical spiraling orb web, but above it they create a jumbled mess of webbing for the purpose of snaring or knocking their prey down to the sticky orb web below. The web structure is distinctive enough that I can tell it's one of theirs before I even see the spider. In the midst of the messy upper part, they often create a retreat from a curled leaf, and when it's time for eggs, those will be there next to the retreat.

Here we have the female spider exposed, with no retreat, and one egg sac. They are pretty spiders if you can see them, and this day at this location I saw several all without retreats, which was very unusual. I'm used to studying the mess of apparent debris in the middle until I can spot legs, usually slightly emerged from the lip of the leaf curl, with egg sacs and perhaps other dead leaves in the mix.

Yesterday's tiny dewdrop raider was found in the web of one of these spiders. I'm posting a second photo of this species today to show the egg sacs better.

18 Arachtober 2019

Labyrinth Orbweaver, Metepeira labyrinthea

Sugarloaf Mountain, Dickerson, Frederick Co, MD

18 August 2019

Part 12

As soon as our tents were up we took a well earned rest. I ate lunch beneath the trees along the shore of the beautiful lake. The sky was full of large clouds and was darkest to the west out over the Siberian Outpost and Big Whitney Meadow, and a distant rumble of thunder rolled in from that direction. The valley that held this lake opened to a broad view of the Boreal Plateau that rose over the Siberian Out post, but here at camp that view was partial obscured by a hill to the southwest and trees to the north so I told Hester, who was still resting, that I was going to go over the hill to where I could get a better view of the storm. He told me he'd meet there in a little while.

I walked along the lake shore to the outflow creek and made my way through a jumbled maze of willows hiding rocks, flowing water, and darting fish. Once I made my way through the labyrinthine I reached a boulder strewn hillside that was home to a few large trees. It was then that the altitude hit me (11180 feet). Earlier this morning before the hike I had taken an Excedrin (for headaches) and a Bonine (for motion sickness and nausea) in anticipation of altitude sickness and so far it worked great, but now it just hit me. The symptoms were nowhere near as bad as I normally have, but my body was overcome with shaky weakness and dizziness so I stopped in the shade of one of the large pine trees to sit and let it pass. I leaned back, rested my head on the tree, closed my eyes and went into a meditation and visualized myself as one with the tree. It worked, my Self faded and my consciousness expanded into the tree, I could feel our roots twisting around rocks and into cracks and crevasses within the mountainside, I could feel our branches swaying in the wind above and the sap flowing through the strong, towering trunk carrying energy from the sun. Distant thunder rumbled and the relaxed branches tensed for a moment. During this time sun and clouds move across the sky. Footsteps and a voice brought me back into my Self, centered. It was Hester. The discomfort of the altitude sickness had passed and I felt much better. Slowly standing up, I turned to thank the tree placing my hand and forehead gently upon the bark.

Then me and Hester navigated the steep mountainside until we got a good view of the storm. From here we could see Soldier Lake 400 feet below us to the north and Rock Creek Lake 1 mile distant to the east, as well as the peaks that encompassed the Miter Basin (which is where we were suppose to end up today had we not stopped where we did) also rising to the north. The sky above us was now a gray monochromatic haze of dark threatening storm-clouds. The clouds were moving in from the southwest but the rain bands swirled in from the northwest and moved east. A mighty wind rose up carrying stray drops from the still distant storm and thunder echoed from hidden, unseen lightning. From our high up vantage point we watched the curtains of rain creeping closer from across the forested valley. Soon the peaks of the miter basin were obscured by a very heavy downpour, their outlines shimmering like a mirage. We watched as a wall of rain moved across the surface of soldier lake. We took shelter under a large boulder as the rain finally reached us. More thunder rumbled.

We waited out the storm beneath the sheltering rock until the rain subsided enough not to soak us. We then headed back to camp in a light mist. We didn't know it yet but that thunderstorm would have consequences for the rest of the trip.

Mission Report: The Fan

Date: 02-25-2324

Location: Steelstrand City Centre

Attendees:

• Marcus Croft

• Fazzy Constantine

• Vahenir

• Miu

• Robotgirl

• Varik (Guest)

Mission Summary:

In the heart of SteelStrand City, amidst its bustling streets and shadowed alleys, BluShock found themselves ensnared in a web of mystery and danger, spurred by a cryptic summons from an unknown admirer. The catalyst for their latest mission was a mysterious phone call, beckoning Fazzy Constantine into the clandestine world of intrigue that permeated the city's underbelly.

The caller, shrouded in anonymity, claimed to be a fervent fan of BluShock, extending an invitation for a clandestine meeting under the cloak of nightfall. Intrigued by the promise of secrecy and adventure, Fazzy and the crew embarked on a journey guided by the enigmatic caller's cryptic instructions, delving into the depths of SteelStrand City's labyrinthine sprawl.

Accompanied by Varik, a seasoned Entrixi mercenary whose acquaintance they had made in prior encounters, BluShock navigated the treacherous sewers and shadowed alleys, evading the watchful gaze of patrolling guards and threading their way through the city's hidden passages with practiced stealth.

Emerging from the subterranean depths, the crew found themselves standing before an abandoned house on the city's outskirts, the eerie silence broken only by the distant hum of machinery and the whisper of the wind. Inside awaited their mysterious benefactor—a figure cloaked in shadow, whose identity remained veiled in secrecy.

To their surprise, the caller revealed himself to be a Ferengi named Guark, his presence in this time and place a curious anomaly. Guark, it transpired, sought BluShock's aid in navigating the perilous currents of SteelStrand City, offering access to hidden realms in exchange for their assistance—a proposition laden with both promise and peril.

Negotiations with Guark were abruptly interrupted by the intrusion of bandits led by the formidable wastelander, Charlo. Tensions escalated, culminating in a violent confrontation that tested BluShock's resolve and resourcefulness. Despite efforts to defuse the situation, diplomacy gave way to chaos as gunfire erupted within the confines of the abandoned house, plunging the crew into a deadly dance of survival.

Amidst the chaos, Guark, critically wounded in the melee, entrusted Fazzy Constantine with access permits to the heavily guarded nuclear tower—a prize that held the potential to alter the balance of power within SteelStrand City. Yet, Guark's passing served as a somber reminder of the fragility of life in this unforgiving landscape, and the fleeting nature of alliances forged in the crucible of necessity.

(Pics taken by the awesome Robotgirl!)

Pyrgos Kallistis or simply Pyrgos (Greek: Πύργος Καλλίστης, literally 'Tower') is a picturesque village on the Aegean island of Santorini, Greece, in the Cyclades archipelago with a population of approx. 732 according to the 2001 census. Pyrgos is part of the Municipality of Thira and is situated approximately 7km away from the island's capital Fira. It is built amphitheatrically on a hill that offers magnificent views of Santorini in almost all directions. On top of this hill remain the ruins of a Venetian castle (Kasteli) that was once the island's administrative center. Pyrgos is a typical example of medieval architecture with narrow, labyrinthine streets, fortified walls and hidden passages. Nowadays it is one of the villages of Santorini least spoiled by tourism.

(Wikipedia)

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We spent a week on Santorini during the beginning of May enjoying its picturesque magic quite heavily. One may be surprised that its towns are rather crowded even before the peak tourist season, but it is still a special place for enjoying slow pace of Greek islands life.

Pyrgos is neither that famous nor that visited as Fira or Oia clifftop settlements, which makes it more attractive for those seeking more solitude and quietness - one may stroll through its narrow streets freely without crowds, and thus enjoy the slow pace of the Greek life...

Omoide Yokochō. Tokyo's famous labyrinthine alleyways of cheap meal stops. Shinjuku district.

In the backstreets of a Japanese city (the "rojiura"), there are always these labyrinthine alleys. Here, sunlight is sliced into fragments, and both time and noise seem to slow down.

In the foreground, the industrial scaffolding forms the first, raw frame. In the mid-ground, the hanging sign of a theater troupe, "Soten," adds a touch of the theatrical and surreal to this everyday scene.

And at the very end of these layered frames and shadows, in the only brightly lit passage, a cyclist slowly approaches. He is the sole protagonist on this forgotten stage, the warmest note in this backstreet symphony composed of metal, wood, and concrete textures.

Vatnajökull National Park, Iceland

Ice caves come in all shapes and sizes. Many occur in and around glaciers, when meltwater carves out tunnels underneath the ice. The results are incredible – and often dangerous – structures, which stun the senses with their ephemeral beauty. The Vatnajökull National Park on the south coast of Iceland has many subglacial ice caves, the majority of which are cramped and over-touristed. However, if conditions are just right, it is possible to visit a different type of ice cave. When the glacial lakes freeze, giant icebergs become trapped and the wind hollows out labyrinthine mazes of blue ice. Access requires a specialist ice guide and should not be attempted without one, but walking alone through the nostril of a sleeping ice giant is a unique and special experience. With local heroes @thor_photography and Ásmundur Ásmundsson (ice guide / model).

New website: www.djoburton.com

Travel | Photography | Text

Route 26 travels up the eastern side of the Pjórsá River until a little past Hrauneyjar when it becomes the F26 or Sprengisandsleið (and things go really wild in the Icelandic Highlands).

Amidst the volcanic desolation, the beautifully constructed R26 has a junction with the F208 with this pic looking south down the F208. The water in the distance is man-made, hydro-electric infrastructure known as the [lake] Hrauneyjalón. I am not 100% certain I have this exactly right as the place is labyrinthine!

Driving off road in Iceland is illegal. Make a note of how many @ssholes have gone off road here - the landscape is incredibly fragile due to de-vegetation from volcanic gas and ash and rarely recovers from the passage of a vehicle.

This is one for the big screen and remember to press "L" :-)

Fuji XT2, XF23/1.4, 1/500th sec at f/8, ISO 100 - 5 frame stitch. I liked the stitch version for what it did to the road and the cloud :-)

the rugged, otherworldly landscape of Goblin Valley dominates the foreground, with its intricate rock formations resembling a gathering of mystical creatures. The valley floor is bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, casting intricate shadows among the labyrinthine sandstone structures. Above, the night sky is adorned with the brilliant tapestry of the Milky Way, its billions of stars creating a celestial spectacle that stretches across the heavens. A sense of awe and wonder perva… See more

The last several days have been very difficult around here. Colorado is being overrun with water. Much of my town has been flooded. While me and my family are safe and dry, the current situation is taking a heavy emotional toll on me. Many of my friends and co-workers have been effected. The constant news alerts and flood warnings don't help either. I've felt very uneasy for four days straight. We had a slight respite yesterday, but right now it's raining again.

I can only hope that things don't get worse and that I can go back to work tomorrow.

On the bright side...I'm getting married in a week!

Rijksmonument Waterloopbos Flevoland is a beautiful and interesting forest in Noordoostpolder of the Netherlands in which the former Waterloopkundig Laboratorium (WL) (1951-1996) was established. Since 2016 this site is a national monument for the period after WOII.

The Waterloopkundig Laboratorium (the official name of the Delft Hydraulics laboratory) was established for hydraulic research in the Netherlands. It had two laboratories at its disposal, viz. the laboratory at Delft and after WWII the laboratory in Noordoostpolder. In the beginning the laboratory in Noordoostpolder was an open-air laboratory. Because of its low-lying situation, water could be guided into and out of small-scale models without pumps. The aim of the studies may either have been a hydraulic design, calibration or improvement of structures or testing of new ideas. The close cooperation between hydraulic structure designers and the researchers of the laboratory allowed the completion of complex infrastructural works like the Deltaworks, as well as large scale international projects.

Through the years, the Waterloopbos has lost its original function. Fortunately, the forest was preserved and is now being managed by Natuurmonumenten (the Dutch Nature Preservation Society). In 2016, the forest was even put on the National Monuments List. The remains of the hydraulic models are still present. Mosses, plants and trees are slowly covering over the sites that were once so valuable. You can hear water flow everywhere and special plants and animals can be found along the river banks. In fall, there are thousands of mushrooms. These elements all serve to give the Waterloopbos its fairytale ambiance.

The famous ‘Delta Flume’ has been transformed. The artists Ronald Rietveld and Erick de Lyon cut huge concrete panels of different widths from the 240 meter long Delta Flume, turning them 90 degrees. The result is a magical experience in a labyrinthine environment. Stand amazed at the way light and dark interact and enjoy the beautiful views of the surrounding nature. Deltawerk// is an ode to the past and the great engineering work that was done here.

Corn maze at Gross Farms

Sanford, North Carolina, USA

= The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long =-

Always cast a wary eye over your shoulder, for in these neon-lit alleys, allies are but shadows waiting for their chance to shift. Loyalties flicker like holograms, ephemeral and unreliable. Trust is a currency traded cautiously, for beneath every handshake lies a veiled agenda, and behind every smile, a concealed blade. In this dance of deception, where every step forward risks a stumble into betrayal, survival demands a vigilance that echoes through the labyrinthine heart of this dystopian metropolis.

______________________

Find yourself in a world like no other, Hera has outdone herself, as always. Leading us, forcing us, invading the tapestry of our mind to allow us to live in a place we could never get to on our own.

Visit the Blade Runner/Brutal City build, Read the stories behind the places and let us know if you found the three different clubs. The hidden gems where our photos are taken.

URL: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Themyscira/129/137/1319

Todos los derechos reservados - All rights reserved - copyright © Pilar Azaña Talán

PROHIBIDO EL USO DE MIS FOTOGRAFIAS - PROHIBITED TO USE MY PHOTOS

♫♥✿♥♫

Praga es la capital de la República Checa y una de las ciudades más hermosas y populares de Europa. Es espléndida, muy bien conservada con una arquitectura magnífica y un gran número de bonitos edificios antiguos, callejuelas laberínticas y monumentos famosos como el Puente de Carlos, Plaza de la Ciudad Vieja, Castillo de Praga, etc. El estilo renacentista, el gótico, el barroco y el art nouveau, se mezclan en los distintos sectores de la ciudad, logrando un conjunto arquitectónico tan peculiar como único.

Situada a orillas del río Moldava y de nueve colinas. El terreno quebrado hace que Praga resulte un panorama impresionante con un encanto especial. Sus colinas ofrecen muchas vistas magníficas. El río Vltava (Moldava) pasa por Praga a lo largo de 31 km, en su parte más ancha tiene 330 m. Vltava forma también islas y meandros con rincones muy románticos.

Prague is the capital of the Czech Republic and one of the most beautiful and popular cities in Europe. It is well-preserved splendid with magnificent architecture and a large number of beautiful old buildings, labyrinthine streets and famous sights such as Charles Bridge, Old Town Square, Prague Castle, etc... The Renaissance style, the Gothic, the baroque and the art nouveau, they are mixed in the different sectors of the city, achieving an architectural set as peculiar as only one.

Situated on the Vltava river and nine hills. The rugged terrain makes it a breathtaking panorama Prague with a special charm. Its hills offer many splendid views. The river Vltava (Moldau) passes through Prague, over 31 km in its widest part is 330 m. Vltava is also islands and meanders with very romantic corners.

PRAGA - REPÚBLICA CHECA - EUROPA