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Rest in Peace, W.S. Merwin, who passed into infinity today at 91.
One of my most beloved, most respected poets.
(photographer unattributed online)
NOW IT IS CLEAR
-by W.S. Merwin
Now it is clear to me that no leaves are mine
no roots are mine
that wherever I go I will be a spine of smoke in the forest
and the forest will know it
we will both know it
and that the birds vanish because of something
that I remember
flying from me as though I were a great wind
as the stones settle into the ground
the trees into themselves
staring as though I were a great wind
which is what I pray for
it is clear to me that I cannot return
but that some of us will meet once more
even here
like our own statues
and some of us still later without names
and some of us will burn with the speed
of endless departures
and be found and lost no more
1970
FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY DEATH
- by . W.S. Merwin
Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveler
Like the beam of a lightless star
Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what
1993
FOR A COMING EXTINCTION
- William Stanley Merwin
Gray whale
Now that we are sending you to The End
That great god
Tell him
That we who follow you invented forgiveness
And forgive nothing
I write as though you could understand
And I could say it
One must always pretend something
Among the dying
When you have left the seas nodding on their stalks
Empty of you
Tell him that we were made
On another day
The bewilderment will diminish like an echo
Winding along your inner mountains
Unheard by us
And find its way out
Leaving behind it the future
Dead
And ours
When you will not see again
The whale calves trying the light
Consider what you will find in the black garden
And its court
The sea cows the Great Auks the gorillas
The irreplaceable hosts ranged countless
And fore-ordaining as stars
Our sacrifices
Join your work to theirs
Tell him
That it is we who are important
1967
THANKS
W.S. Merwin
Listen
with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow from the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water thanking it
standing by the windows looking out
in our directions
back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks we are saying thank you
in the faces of the officials and the rich
and of all who will never change
we go on saying thank you thank you
with the animals dying around us
taking our feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
thank you we are saying and waving
dark though it is
2005
A longish exposure, using a tripod, taken from a window of the house where I was born, in North Street, Downend, Bristol. The autumnal evening scene is bathed in a preternatural lightless glare and there is a thundery haze among the trees. A photograph renders this inadequately of course.
North Street is mainly a street of bay-windowed Victorian terraces. The house on the right is, I think, the only post-war house in the street. Here and there are gaps where older houses may be seen, dating from a pre-suburban phase of Downend's existence, when the road was an unmetalled cart track. Across the road at no. 49, a new owner has thought fit to disfigure such a house by inserting a fake bow window.
Next door, in the right-hand house of this pair, lived Mr Clark. As a boy I was rather afraid of Mr Clark who had the reputation of being "rough" in his manners. Certainly he regarded all small boys as potentially mischievous and was in the habit of bellowing at any he saw loitering near his house. Yet there must have been a softer side to his nature. When I was very young there had been bird cages affixed to the front of his house, in which budgerigars and canaries twittered all day; and he loved the rose trees which filled his front garden. He always wore a cap and, in winter, a muffler. My father claimed to have seen him in silhouette through his bedroom curtains, sitting up in bed still wearing the cap. There was invariably a rose in the button-hole of his jacket, beneath which he wore a waistcoat.
He had once decided to marry and chose his bride, so my mother said, from among the women inmates at Chipping Sodbury workhouse. This wife eventually deserted him. After a lapse of some years he began to pay court to another local woman but passing through Fishponds one day on the bus, Mr Clark had looked down from the top deck and seen his inamorata in conversation with another man. When next she called the poor woman got short shrift. "Bugger off you treacherous cow", roared Mr Clark, "and never darken my door again". Thereafter he remained a bachelor.
I cannot remember whether Mr Clark was still alive when this photograph was taken on Tuesday 16th September 1980. If he was still living he was no longer capable of tending his beloved roses. The front garden in a tangle of weeds and only a few overblown blooms remain. He belonged to the last generation who were truly their own men, forged in a time when it was still possible for an individual's native oddnesses to flourish ...before television arrived to standardise our thoughts, opinions and behaviour.
I know its technical quality is lousy, but this has always been one of my favourite photographs ...my crème de la crème. For me it is laden with the tragic beauty of its subject and with the pathos, not so much of lost youth, but of the lost intensity of youthful experience.
By early 1968 (this narrative continues from the previous photograph) I had managed to save enough money for a trip to Manchester. I was 17 and had never ventured so far from home before. It must be borne in mind that in those days, before the motorway system had properly taken shape, communication between the various regions of England was not the casual affair it has since become. Manchester seemed impossibly distant and I imagined it would be necessary to travel overnight. Eschewing my bed, I left Bristol at 1.10am on Saturday 13th January in one of the ordinary carriages attached to the Glasgow sleeper. It had been snowing. There was a wait of nearly two hours for a connection at Birmingham and another shorter one at Stafford, where a porter reached in and shook me awake.
I continued north through snowy Cheshire on one of the rather stylish AM10 25kV emus, then only a year or two old. We began to come into Manchester. As we slowly screeched and swayed over the points we came alongside and began to overtake a slow-moving goods train. Suddenly, in the gaps between the wagons, I saw long lines of simmering black steam locomotives outside a shed ...Stockport. I involuntarily gasped and sprang up (luckily there were no other passengers in the vicinity to witness my eccentric behaviour) but, exasperatingly, there were only split-second glimpses between the trucks. As we came alongside the front of the slow-moving goods train I suddenly found myself staring at the side of a locomotive tender. There was a quick sight of the driver and fireman and the orange flames of the fire, then the long boiler slid past the window. I heard hissing and the chugs of the exhaust. I scrabbled frantically at the window latch but couldn't get my head out. Just beyond Stockport Station another line passed beneath the main line at right angles. As we passed over I looked down and saw another steam-hauled goods train. Clearly steam retained a considerable presence here.
Once arrived, I walked from Piccadilly Station to Oxford Road and caught a train to Old Trafford. I walked around the outside of Manchester United's stadium and out into an expanse of snowy wasteground where dead locomotives were lined up on sidings ready to be taken away for scrap. Beyond was the looming shape of Trafford Park shed. Between two small brick buildings I saw a simmering locomotive standing in the yard. This scene has always been etched on my memory. What made it so indelible was, I think, the lovely colouration, made more beautiful by the leaden sky, the slight fog and the eerie lightless glare of the snow. The bricks of the little buildings looked curiously pink, and the locomotive brown rather than the expected black.
I approached carefully, expecting to be thrown out as soon as I was detected. I walked between the buildings and immediately took this photograph. It might be the only one I got. But I was not hindered at all and walked around unchallenged. By this stage I think shed staff had probably given up as a bad job the attempt to prevent trespassing in steam sheds. Pictorially I like the photo for the strong natural "lead-in" lines of the sleepers, lamps and water cranes. I also like the steam creeping along the cab roof and the way the smoke is "exhaling" from the funnel. Alas, this was about the only good photograph I took all day. The light got worse and worse, and my camera wasn't up to it.
Another abiding memory of that occasion. As I walked back, I stopped halfway across the wasteground to pee (well, it was a cold day). As I stood in the thickening fog, I watched a Stanier 8F being turned on a turntable. It was a Whistlerian essay in greys and white.
In the lightless whisper of night, a feathered specter hears my plea. “I am always changing,” she repeats to me. “Leave these ageless ruins and soon you will see.”
Composite timelapse video of various scenes in Haida Gwaii, Oct 2019.
Music from filmmusic.io
"Lightless Dawn" by Kevin MacLeod (incompetech.com)
License: CC BY (creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/)
The gatehouse, here, dates back to the 18th C though it has been subject to restoration. Inside the entrance there is a tunnel with 12 niches which were used to hold shackled prisoners.
Anybody entering, apart from the emir, had to dismount and approach on foot. When approaching the emir his vassals had to approach on all fours and nobody was allowed to turn their back on him.
In 1839 Lt-Col Charles Stoddart arrived to set up an alliance for the British with the emir. He rode in on horseback, failed to crawl towards the emir and his credentials were deemed inadequate as they came from the Governor-General of India, rather than Queen Victoria. This series of errors resulted in his being confined to the 'bug-pit', a lightless 6 m deep hole, full of rats, scorpions, lice, cockroaches and ticks, for 6 months. He was then offered the choice of execution or conversion to Islam. He chose the latter and was promptly circumcised. But he got clean clothes and his freedom of the city too.
Two years later Capt Arthur Conolly came to rescue Stoddart. His arrival resulted in both being confined to the pit. Conolly refused conversion with the attendant advantages and so both men were executed.
[First in the set Uzbekistan 3 -Bukhara www.flickr.com/photos/harold_stern/sets/72057594082858192/ ]
Gratitude (65) I am grateful for heat and light in a dark, cold winter.
www.wcpo.com/news/local/story/Duke-Launches-New-Service-F...
As of Noon Thursday, January 29, about 12,000 Duke Energy customers were still without power.
www.wcpo.com/news/local/story/Thousands-May-Face-Frigid-L...
LOUISVILLE, Ky. (AP) -- More than a million homes and businesses left in the cold without power Thursday in the wake of an icy winter storm could face a lengthy wait for electricity to come back, even as federal help was promised to two states hit hardest by the blast. Late Wednesday, President Barack Obama signed requests from Kentucky Gov. Steve Beshear and Arkansas Gov. Mike Beebe for federal emergency declarations. Crews -- even the National Guard in Kentucky -- worked around the clock to resurrect power lines downed by thick ice in both states. Officials in states from Oklahoma to West Virginia fought to do the same.
Utility officials estimated more than 1.3 million homes and businesses across a wide swath of states were powerless early Thursday, and warned it could be mid-February before some customers had power
The storm has been blamed for at least 23 deaths so far. Kentucky officials Thursday added two that they called weather-related: A woman who died while an ambulance on the way to her was blocked by impassable roads and a woman who fell on her basement stairs while she was retrieving a kerosene heater.
Many flocked to shelters, while others huddled next to wood-burning fires and portable heaters to fend off the frigid night air. Some who stayed put relied on gas stoves to cook food. Meanwhile, emergency officials feared the crisis could escalate as temperatures plunged.
. . . Communities urged people to conserve water because the outages could limit supplies.
More than a half-million were without power in Kentucky, where the power outages produced by the ice storm were outdone only by the remnants of Hurricane Ike, which lashed the state with fierce winds last year, leaving about 600,000 customers without power.
"We've got lots of counties that do not have any communication, any heat, any power," Beshear, the state's governor, said Wednesday.
Tree limbs and power lines crackled like gunfire as they snapped, crashing onto now-impassable roads that hampered recovery efforts from the Southern Plains to the East Coast.
Crews in Indiana had restored power to thousands of customers by early Thursday morning -- but about 89,000 remained in the dark there. Power lines had buckled under three-fourths of an inch of ice. Parts of central Indiana were still digging out from more than a foot of snow.
Various charities opened shelters across the region, but with the power out nearly everywhere -- including at some radio stations -- it was difficult to spread the word. Some deputies went door to door and offered to drive the elderly to safety.
When last we visited our old locale we bought a "his and hers" pair of bicycles from our old neighbours. That was in October. The winter intervened and, apart from a couple of try-outs on the paths near our house, I haven't used mine until today. As I type I'm still aching and my legs are wobbly when I go up and down the stairs. And my sit-upon, well...
Is this what's known as a "mountain bike"? As long as the wheels go round when I pedal it's all the same to me. On the frame (and again on the saddle) it says "Exodus", in letters resembling those used by "urban artists" when they spray their grafitti designs on railway rolling-stock. I'm not sure why. On the rear forks it says "Havoc" ...again for no very clear reason.
The area where I now live is heavily wooded, and the woods are publicised as a kind of playground for cyclists. This would be alright if the woods were worth cycling in, but really they're not woods at all, bearing much the same relationship to real forest that a potato field does to an alpine meadow, or a salmon hatchery to a mountain torrent. They are just commercial timber production units. I always wonder when some boffin will come up with the idea of selectively breeding the trees so that they grow with square trunks that can be efficiently sawn into planks of uniform size, without wastage. The trees, all of alien coniferous species producing a dense canopy, march across these sandy heaths in straight lines, only a few feet apart. Nothing grows on the lightless forest floor. Even in the rides and clearings there is nothing more interesting than gorse or heather. But of course, I consume paper and need furniture like everyone else, and want them readily available at a reasonable price. Life is full of contradictions.
Here the Bentos steed is parked next to an information board ...close relative of the "interpretive" boards we see dotted about in "managed" countryside wherever, as Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty, or Special Scientific Interest, nature has become part of the bureaucratic system and leisure a function of the welfare state. So it was off on the "blue" route for me. Luckily there was a sort of cut-off half way around, allowing you to return to your starting point by a short cut.
by reporter Allison Maier
Julia seemed to have passed this frankness down to her teenage daughter, Jaime, who's grown up in the presence of the prison ghosts and their antics. Chewing bubblegum, she showed us the places where guards would inflict teargas or shred the hands of unruly prisoners. Then she took us to the Hole, where obstinate inmates were housed, and pointed out a pipe from which one of them had taken his life.
For some reason, he decided to hang himself, she said with the perky demeanor of a college tour guide. I'm guessing because he was in the Hole.
the rest of the story www.mtstandard.com/news/local/article_ecf4ad6c-e4fc-11df-...
Conley's dungeon, or the hole, was a "lightless, straw-lined subterranean cell". A description of an inmate after spending three full weeks in the hole read:
His garb was in tatters, his beard an ugly stubble, his eyes bloodshot. He had the gauntiness in feature of a wasted consumptive. He was shackled. He was a man of stalwart frame, but his bony hands looked ugly. He might as well have been three weeks out of the world…For a time, in the prison yard, he acted like one who was an utter stranger to this earth.
textures by Lenabem-Anna
"And what do you want to do when you grow up?"
This inquiry, addressed to me from their great height by visiting aunts or acquaintances of my mother encountered at the shops, usually followed the observation that I'd grown. I could never think of an answer, and even now can't think of any job I'd have wanted to do. I've loathed every job I've had and looked forward to retirement from about the third day after I left school. In a correctly ordered society the State would recognise the valuable contribution of contemplatives and bookworms and award them a kind of platonic income, paid on the "grace and favour" principle ...something like Maundy money, but legal tender of course. In return we'd be happy to perform some kind of minor ceremonial function at state occasions.
If I had to do some sort of "real" work and were given the choice, I think I could have learned to tolerate the job of railway signalman. After all, I've had to put up with far less congenial occupations. What I have in mind is a cosy cabin on a lofty brick plinth (housing the "frame") at the foot of a grassy embankment. Primroses and cowslips in spring, followed by ox-eye daisies in June and rosebay willowherb in high summer. In winter a supply of free railway coal for the tortoise stove would keep me snug. I think I would prefer an intermediate box on a moderately busy line, but I wouldn't mind supervising a branch line junction or a passing loop or something of that sort. Somewhere with a good view would be nice. I would have lots of big levers to operate and a telegraph for communication with neighbouring boxes. Composing my log book entries would be an exquisite literary exercise. In the preferably fairly long intervals between trains I could listen to the skylarks and observe the passage of the clouds.
But we live in advanced times, and efficiency is thought to make people happier. This hideous concrete concertina, confined in its lightless falaise of tower blocks, is scarcely recognisable as a signal box at all. The projecting canopy at the top is to shield the control console from the sun, but that's about the only clue. Not much of a prospect to look out on here and, I imagine, little opportunity for introspection. It is one of those things that is so bad that it breaks through a barrier and becomes good. In a way I quite like it, but the love of ugliness is a perverted, morbid, psychologically unhygienic thing.
The Mole Creek Karst National Park was declared in 1996 to provide protection for some of the finest and most visited cave systems in the State, including Marakoopa and King Solomons Cave. Both caves are open to the public, and provide the opportunity to take a deeper look into the fascinating world of 'karst' landscapes.
The Mole Creek area is renowned for its caves. Marakoopa and King Solomons Caves are but two caves in an area that contains over 300 known caves and sinkholes. Other typical karst features in this area include gorges and large underground streams and springs.
Both caves are home to a range of fascinating animals which have evolved features which allow them to adapt to their lightless environments. The glow-worm display in Marakoopa Cave is the largest you'll see in any public access cave anywhere in Australia. For the visitor, the Mole Creek Karst National Park offers a range of activities. Although guided tours of the caves will be high on your agenda, don't miss the opportunity to take a short walk through the beautiful forests in which these caves occur.
Yes, dark is this night, and the colour is black
The movement of the planet sees to that
As around the sun we travel in unending arc
A system in which we are just a tiny part
The sun blazing in its place
In consequence and distance, the bringer of our life
The energy of raging fusion
For millennia burning in the dark
Though like all the stars in heaven
Its time will come, returning into lightless dust
In its own maelstrom
You’re days are numbered and so are mine
(The fate of time itself hangs on this line)
As the cosmos expands, disappearing from our view
Our vision lost in unending distance
Across eons of time, the meaningless void appears
As it comes crashing into our conscience
Disturbing the equilibrium of our souls
Where are we in all of this, this unending place?
Dark energy surrounding all, powerful and unseen
The very basis of ‘existence’ yet not understood
If understood, no difference would it make
The journey is upon us and we have no choice but to partake
We should lose our minds to think too much upon this thing
So close our vision to only that that we can see and understand
Reduce our boundary and stay within that realm
The future, and that of time, will itself take care
The consequence is set; there is nothing we can change
As we upon this Earth travel with it on its journey
Into far off time when consumed and into dust returned
To be reborn in imploding energy, and in exploding light renewed
Poem: Richard Walker October 2008
Note: The universe is there we can see it. We study it and think “why” But where this will take us we can never really know. We may come to understand the physics and the quantum mechanics of it all, but we will not and cannot alter what happens, because that is already set by its very nature...
Image: The Planets courtesy of AMSAT UK
This is a steel drum issued by the Office of Civil Defense during the Cold War, probably around 1960. It was designed for water storage, although it could also be adapted for use as a commode.
On March 21, the New York Times printed an article about a cache of civil defense supplies that was recently discovered inside the foundations of the Brooklyn Bridge. The Times wrote:
===================
City workers were conducting a regular structural inspection of the bridge last Wednesday when they came across the cold-war-era hoard of water drums, medical supplies, paper blankets, drugs and calorie-packed crackers -- an estimated 352,000 of them, sealed in dozens of watertight metal canisters and, it seems, still edible.
To step inside the vault -- a dank and lightless room where the walls are lined with dusty boxes -- is to be vividly reminded of the anxieties that dominated American life during the military rivalry with the Soviet Union, an era when air-raid sirens and fallout shelters were standard elements of the grade-school curriculum.
[...]
The officials would not open any of the supplies because of safety concerns over germs, but Mr. Vaccaro said that one of the canisters had broken open, and inside it, workers found the crackers intact in wax-paper wrapping.
Nearby were several dozen boxes with sealed bottles of Dextran, made by Wyeth Laboratories in Philadelphia. More mysterious were about 50 metal drums, made by United States Steel in Camden, N.J. According to the label, each was intended to hold 17.5 gallons and to be converted, if necessary, for ''reuse as a commode.'' They are now empty.
===================
I had to laugh, because I have three of those cannisters, which originally came from a similar Civil Defense stockpile on the campus of Yale University. Here's one of them, now doing end-table duty in our house. Click here for a detail of the text printed on the front.
The Civil Defense Museum has lots more background and several historical photos of these storage drums here.
Suddenly, we have a surfeit of spare time.
Due to the change in plans, for the next three days we only have one safari per day, and today that was in the afternoon.
So, a morning free.
So, a lay in?
Not quite.
It was suggested to do some birding at just after dawn, so meet at reception at nine for a short walk to the river.
Only my back said otherwise, so I bailed and sat on the veranda watching the birds come and go, and the camp wake up.
Toast for breakfast, and a piss poor cup of coffee, but its all we need, as next item is a trip to the nearest town for some shopping.
The nearby town is fairly large, has a great many shops and businesses, a bus station with the main road running through it.
I said on Blue Sky earlier that it was hot, dusty, busy, colourful, and friendly.
All true.
The bus came for us at eleven, and dropped us on the main street, where it was already approaching forty degrees. Apparently folks come up here to escape the heat of the plain.
I don't know about that, but it was hot enough for us.
John had to get some painkillers, Jools wanted some material from quilt-making back home. And Ian wanted saffron.
We had parked outside a pharmacy, so John got his pills. We walked on but the mix of shops, smells and colour made it hard sometimes to know what some shops sold.
We couldn't have done it without our fixer/guide, Mahindra, who acted as translator.
On one corner of the street, on the kerb, a guy was fixing and cleaning shoes, using his feet to hold them in place, while on the other corner, a man of similar age was repairing a cheap suitcase.
No doubt it looked new when he'd done.
With Jools buying material, Mahindra and I went on the search for saffron. The most expensive substance on earth, pound for pound.
Just one shop sold it in the town, as Indians don't eat much of it. I got four packets, which will last.
Even here in India, its very expensive.
We walked back to the material shop, then to the main road, where the bus was called for, and in the midday heat, we stood and waited until our mini-bus appeared.
We climbed on, turned the air con to max, and we were driven back to the hotel, where it was nearly time for lunch.
Lunch was the same. Tasty, but still curry.
And at half two, we assembled for the 18th safari of the trip.
Corbett NP is much larger than the three previous ones we visited, so meetings with tigers are much rarer. And the gate we had to use this first time, was a 35 minute drive from the hotel, through the backstreets of the town, and into the countryside.
Into the park, and right away we see a herd of 5 elephants heading to a watering hole, and witness their joy as they plunge in drinking and splashing.
Driving on we came across a group of monkeys, one female had a new morn in her arms, that screamed for her to hold tighter.
We took shots.
We saw a new species of Bee-eater, and that was about it.
Come five there was rumours of two tigers on the move, but with several watering holes they could have chosen, we and the other jeeps drove in circles for an hour with no sightings reported.
We then had an hour's drive back to the hotel, across the park, then along the country road and into the town, before a final twenty minutes on the main road to the resort.
In the gloaming it was almost beautiful, but as the sun set and dusk settled, traffic got heavier as we neared the town, the chorus of horns, and most vehicles had no lights on.
It was chaos.
Madness.
Into the town, and along narrow streets with scooters overtaking us, and more coming the other way, horns blaring and lightless.
And then the joy of the main road at night. Let's just say we were glad to get out safe and sound just after seven, still alive.
More curry for dinner at eight. We have now drunk the resort out of Coke and are now on Sprite.
I happened to come across this photo of a little Burrowing Owl that I hadn't posted, so thought I'd upload today. It was taken on 23rd May 2009 at the Coaldale Birds of Prey Centre, near Lethbridge, Southern Alberta. A delightful place to visit, and they do such a great job of rescuing and, whenever possible, releasing injured birds of prey. Those, whose injuries are too severe for them to be released back into the wild, remain at the Centre to educate children and adults. Such a thrill to see these birds up close.
This Centre is "Canada’s largest birds of prey facility. Situated on a 70-acre wetland area site, the centre is a celebration of nature featuring the hawks, falcons, eagles and owls of Alberta. Throughout the site and along the pathways, a number of birds of prey are sitting on their perches only feet away from visitors. These birds are all in various stages of training and receive lots of exercise in the daily flying programs. At the centre, they have one of North America's largest captive breeding populations for the endangered Burrowing Owl."
It rained a lot overnight and, so far, the day is overcast and lightless. Rain on and off today. I cancelled plans to go forest exploring ... sigh. Temperatures soared to a balmy 8C today and possible snow/frost are in the forecast for later this week. Oh, no : (
Popped in on the River Room in Georgetown for an afternoon meeting, they had just had a pop in for a restaurant reporter Becky Billingsley's twitter.com/RestaurantGal and needed a photo. Lightless and macroless I busted out some old school window light and menu for a reflector, thats right a menu. Not an award winner but not too too bad.
I.
Laying on a scratched glass table
Is an ambiguous gift
Yellow, leafy iris of the fly eye
Saturated with oil
II.
Friendly gesture
Sincere colors
With Hundreds of underlying reasons
Like the dried seeds in it’s pupil.
III.
Long stemmed, firm
Dependent on water
To keep it’s jade-green color
IV.
Brittle bristles
Coarse at touch, smooth on sight.
V.
Velvet petals to only be misted
Not showered, nor painted, never stained
Remain honest yellow, remain.
VI.
Pleasant, plant, faint scent
Like the skin of it’s deliverant
VII.
I will keep it alive, water it sweeten it
Perhaps for a week
But asphyxiate it from light
Till it breaks from that fevered hope
VIII.
Here, sunny as she is
Two different views, from that one brown pupil
From messenger and receiver
He hopeful, I hopeless
IX.
The petals on my lips
Will never be as warm as the kiss
But when dried up and withered
In a lightless box
I’ll keep it with my other memories.
------------------------------------
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www.chinaknotart.com/forum/viewthread.php?tid=5470 (Member only)
Making up in atmosphere, I hope, for what it lacks in quality, this photograph shows a Stanier "Black 5" locomotive abandoned at the side of Trafford Park shed on Saturday 13th January 1968. The number looks like 44835. This is the first time in the 40 years since I took it that I have been able to get a half decent look at the photograph. The original processor printed it, but it came out as little more than a silhouette, with no detail visible. This version, scanned from the negative, is a great improvement ...though still, admittedly, not up to much. I have spent hours removing not just specks and scratches, but strange, inexplicable parallel wavy lines that ran through the whole of this film.
I remember walking around the side of the Manchester United football stadium and out onto an expanse of waste ground where lines of "dead" locomotives stood on sidings in the strange lightless glare from the snow. I took this photo and a few others before approaching the shed proper ...so that if I was sent packing I would have something to show. But by this stage in the decline of steam I think BR shed staff had given up the attempt to exclude photographers and I was not hindered here or, later in the day, at Newton Heath. Two months later, when I visited Stockport shed there was almost a playground atmosphere, with dozens of local children sitting on overgrown heaps of cinders watching the locomotives being coaled (by conveyor belt if I remember correctly) and watered. A modern Health & Safety inspector would have died on the spot of an apoplectic fit.
A rare medicane hit the Maltese islands. Strong winds, horizontal rain, dense heavy clouds and lightless conditions.
Brachypelma Smithi häutet sich (20fache Geschwindigkeit)
(Music: Lightless Dawn by Kevin MacLeod from incompetech.com)
In the lightless whisper of night, a feathered specter hears my plea. “I am always changing,” she repeats to me. “Leave these ageless ruins and soon you will see.”
Faux Wood blinds combine the upscale look of wood with the resilience and versatility of PVC. Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear.
Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear of fading, cracking or warping.
Practical and cost effective, Faux Wood Blinds are a popular alternative to real wood. While they work well in a wide range of climates they are not recommended for windows that experience extreme heat.
You can choose from smooth painted finishes, natural wood tones, textured wood grains and sandblasted finishes that have a stylized look that will dress up a contemporary room or add interest to more traditional decor.
In addition to being easy to clean and care for, Faux Wood blinds are natural insulators that will lower energy bills and help keep your home cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. Several features are available to maximize light control and privacy including Solaire Blinds with angled slats that 3 Day Blinds Faux Wood Blinds close flat to effectively block light and reduce glare on TV and computer screens and Ultima lightless slats that enhance privacy and significantly reduce light in bedrooms.
Call Al @ 916.799.4376
Email @ Al.Turk@3Day.com
Raindrops shot from my car window. I really like how the clouds in the background came out.
Little tip for shooting raindrops: To capture the shape of raindrops, shoot the window at about 45deg angle.
Suddenly, we have a surfeit of spare time.
Due to the change in plans, for the next three days we only have one safari per day, and today that was in the afternoon.
So, a morning free.
So, a lay in?
Not quite.
It was suggested to do some birding at just after dawn, so meet at reception at nine for a short walk to the river.
Only my back said otherwise, so I bailed and sat on the veranda watching the birds come and go, and the camp wake up.
Toast for breakfast, and a piss poor cup of coffee, but its all we need, as next item is a trip to the nearest town for some shopping.
The nearby town is fairly large, has a great many shops and businesses, a bus station with the main road running through it.
I said on Blue Sky earlier that it was hot, dusty, busy, colourful, and friendly.
All true.
The bus came for us at eleven, and dropped us on the main street, where it was already approaching forty degrees. Apparently folks come up here to escape the heat of the plain.
I don't know about that, but it was hot enough for us.
John had to get some painkillers, Jools wanted some material from quilt-making back home. And Ian wanted saffron.
We had parked outside a pharmacy, so John got his pills. We walked on but the mix of shops, smells and colour made it hard sometimes to know what some shops sold.
We couldn't have done it without our fixer/guide, Mahindra, who acted as translator.
On one corner of the street, on the kerb, a guy was fixing and cleaning shoes, using his feet to hold them in place, while on the other corner, a man of similar age was repairing a cheap suitcase.
No doubt it looked new when he'd done.
With Jools buying material, Mahindra and I went on the search for saffron. The most expensive substance on earth, pound for pound.
Just one shop sold it in the town, as Indians don't eat much of it. I got four packets, which will last.
Even here in India, its very expensive.
We walked back to the material shop, then to the main road, where the bus was called for, and in the midday heat, we stood and waited until our mini-bus appeared.
We climbed on, turned the air con to max, and we were driven back to the hotel, where it was nearly time for lunch.
Lunch was the same. Tasty, but still curry.
And at half two, we assembled for the 18th safari of the trip.
Corbett NP is much larger than the three previous ones we visited, so meetings with tigers are much rarer. And the gate we had to use this first time, was a 35 minute drive from the hotel, through the backstreets of the town, and into the countryside.
Into the park, and right away we see a herd of 5 elephants heading to a watering hole, and witness their joy as they plunge in drinking and splashing.
Driving on we came across a group of monkeys, one female had a new morn in her arms, that screamed for her to hold tighter.
We took shots.
We saw a new species of Bee-eater, and that was about it.
Come five there was rumours of two tigers on the move, but with several watering holes they could have chosen, we and the other jeeps drove in circles for an hour with no sightings reported.
We then had an hour's drive back to the hotel, across the park, then along the country road and into the town, before a final twenty minutes on the main road to the resort.
In the gloaming it was almost beautiful, but as the sun set and dusk settled, traffic got heavier as we neared the town, the chorus of horns, and most vehicles had no lights on.
It was chaos.
Madness.
Into the town, and along narrow streets with scooters overtaking us, and more coming the other way, horns blaring and lightless.
And then the joy of the main road at night. Let's just say we were glad to get out safe and sound just after seven, still alive.
More curry for dinner at eight. We have now drunk the resort out of Coke and are now on Sprite.
Faux Wood blinds combine the upscale look of wood with the resilience and versatility of PVC. Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear.
Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear of fading, cracking or warping.
Practical and cost effective, Faux Wood Blinds are a popular alternative to real wood. While they work well in a wide range of climates they are not recommended for windows that experience extreme heat.
You can choose from smooth painted finishes, natural wood tones, textured wood grains and sandblasted finishes that have a stylized look that will dress up a contemporary room or add interest to more traditional decor.
In addition to being easy to clean and care for, Faux Wood blinds are natural insulators that will lower energy bills and help keep your home cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. Several features are available to maximize light control and privacy including Solaire Blinds with angled slats that 3 Day Blinds Faux Wood Blinds close flat to effectively block light and reduce glare on TV and computer screens and Ultima lightless slats that enhance privacy and significantly reduce light in bedrooms.
Call Al @ 916.799.4376
Email @ Al.Turk@3Day.com
Faux Wood blinds combine the upscale look of wood with the resilience and versatility of PVC. Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear.
Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear of fading, cracking or warping.
Practical and cost effective, Faux Wood Blinds are a popular alternative to real wood. While they work well in a wide range of climates they are not recommended for windows that experience extreme heat.
You can choose from smooth painted finishes, natural wood tones, textured wood grains and sandblasted finishes that have a stylized look that will dress up a contemporary room or add interest to more traditional decor.
In addition to being easy to clean and care for, Faux Wood blinds are natural insulators that will lower energy bills and help keep your home cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. Several features are available to maximize light control and privacy including Solaire Blinds with angled slats that 3 Day Blinds Faux Wood Blinds close flat to effectively block light and reduce glare on TV and computer screens and Ultima lightless slats that enhance privacy and significantly reduce light in bedrooms.
Call Al @ 916.799.4376
Email @ Al.Turk@3Day.com
In the lightless whisper of night, a feathered specter hears my plea. “I am always changing,” she repeats to me. “Leave these ageless ruins and soon you will see.”
Silk weaving is one of the industries of Varanasi; while in the west, weavers' lofts were usually built on upper storeys, with huge windows, in India, where the sun is vicious, they seem to be tucked away in lightless sheds.
Even the Costa signs are faded and dulled on a lifeless and lightless day in Clifton as First's ex Leeds B9TL 36230 BD12TBY heads past Clifton Down station in Feb 2025.
great shadows from the lights outside plus a few pops from the flash outside to get the shadows on the roof
Adam and went to go down to brookwood cemetery. we drove for an hour parked up and walked to some interesting crypts, set up the camera went to take a shot when a bloke walked up. he said the owners were a bit funny about taking photos and we should go and talk to them to see what they say. we made our way to the office contacted a woman within who was a bit shocked about the late our. anyway turns out we walked past a big sign that says 'no photography or filming' it wasn't lit so we didn't see it!. we had to leave, on the way back we went to this old haunt. turned out a good night after all
i feel you are so SPECIAL that i can’t SOOM. i don’t want to be a BAD GIRL but i prefer MYSTERY. how can i say THANK YOU? when you make my life EASY. you say LIGHTS GO ON AGAIN…but still, i am not over it YET. so, i guess i have to CLENCHING A TIGHT FIST. my emotion just keep on being a MASTERMIND. till everything i see is just LIGHTLESS. and some think it is a super HOT ISSUE. i feel like HUH?? the moment you ask, WHAT I WANT TO DO IF I HAVE A LOVER. i answered I’ll BACK OFF SO YOU CAN LIVE. i wish the pain could go away and LET IT SNOW. WHEN THIS DOOR CLOSES, i’ll never turn back to you. you, don’t even say IM SORRY. that just make me SHOCK. i turn my face away and you hold my hand and say, you are BEAUTIFUL. you almost dried my heart but then changed it to OASIS. you whisperer to me and say VERY IMPORTANT U (VIU). i shyly reply I LIKE YOU THE BEST. and that’s how WELCOME TO B2ST AIRLINE ends. ♥
Faux Wood blinds combine the upscale look of wood with the resilience and versatility of PVC. Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear.
Made from high tech polymer, Faux Wood blinds are remarkably moisture resistant and can be installed in kitchens, bathrooms and laundry rooms, without fear of fading, cracking or warping.
Practical and cost effective, Faux Wood Blinds are a popular alternative to real wood. While they work well in a wide range of climates they are not recommended for windows that experience extreme heat.
You can choose from smooth painted finishes, natural wood tones, textured wood grains and sandblasted finishes that have a stylized look that will dress up a contemporary room or add interest to more traditional decor.
In addition to being easy to clean and care for, Faux Wood blinds are natural insulators that will lower energy bills and help keep your home cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter. Several features are available to maximize light control and privacy including Solaire Blinds with angled slats that 3 Day Blinds Faux Wood Blinds close flat to effectively block light and reduce glare on TV and computer screens and Ultima lightless slats that enhance privacy and significantly reduce light in bedrooms.
Call Al @ 916.799.4376
Email @ Al.Turk@3Day.com