View allAll Photos Tagged Men
SACRED TATTOO n°103
Mainstore : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Lorna%20Dunes/125/173/2510
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FashionNatic - River Male Lingerie
Mainstrore : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/FashionNatic/124/89/26
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Unorthodox Dava Locs
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/XODOHTRONU/128/129/3152
Preparing the beach for the coming season -
many Turkish people are busy in this branche.
Sure they don't have a look at the pretty sunset.
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Vorbereitungen für die kommende Saison -
viele Türken sind in der Tourismus-Branche tätig.
Wahrscheinlich haben sie kein Auge mehr übrig für den prächtigen Sonnenuntergang.
FashionNatic - Morocan Top
Man Cave Event maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Match/166/135/46
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/FashionNatic/124/89/26
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Unorthodox Evan
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/XODOHTRONU/128/129/3152
ODIREN- Alan Tank Top
ALPHA EVENT maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/ACCESS%203/130/97/1001
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/NERIDO/127/175/30
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EGX. BOM Miguel Hairbase
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Forever%20Collector/186/21...
Windkraftanlage der "Stadtwerke Karlsruhe" beim Kurort (!) Bad Camberg im Taunus.
Wind farm of the "Stadtwerke Karlsruhe" (municipal utility of town Karlsruhe, far away in the South of Germany) at the health resort (!) Bad Camberg in the Taunus hills / Hesse / Germany.
© all rights reserved / Lutz Koch 2017
For personal display only !
All other uses, including copying or reproduction of this photograph or its image, in whole or in part, or storage of the image in any medium are expressly forbidden.
Written permission for use of this photograph must be obtained from the copyright holder !
Kalback: Kanye Hoodie
TMD event : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/TMD/122/134/22
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Hot%20Atoll/201/103/26
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EGX. BOM Craig Facial Hair
EGX. BOM Craig Hairbase
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Forever%20Collector/186/21...
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Signature: Gianni - Mesh Body
Mainstore :: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Signature%20Body/161/131/24
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SACRED TATTOO n ° 103
Mainstore : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Dallas%20County/56/62/1702
Trucks emptying the garbage and composting bins, as seen from my living room window today.
I wish you a blessed, safe and healthy week!
FashionNatic - Psalm Set
Mancave event : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Match/177/121/46
Mainstrore : maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/FashionNatic/124/89/26
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SACRED TATTOO n°110
Mainstore: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Rosehaven%20Falls/51/138/2701
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EGX. BOM Lewis Hairbase
Mainstore:: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Cajun%20Sparkle/140/243/23
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click to activate the icon of slideshow: the small triangle inscribed in the small rectangle, at the top right, in the photostream;
or…. Press the “L” button to zoom in the image;
clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;
oppure…. premi il tasto “L” per ingrandire l'immagine;
www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...
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The island of Sicily is a land that you never stop discovering, rich in natural treasures, artistic works, artifacts that are the fruit of human ingenuity, in its historical and cultural panorama it is the popular traditions that represent an unparalleled "eco living, static and dynamic at the same time "that exist (and persist) becoming visible, only when it is the people themselves who decide to give voice to them, traditions whose roots sink into a dark and distant past made up of stratified cultures between them, very often synonymous with wars and dominations, to throw ever green leaves in the present: this as a preamble to what I am going to describe in words and photographs, of the traditional folk festival of the "Maiorchino tournament", unique in its kind, which is is held this year in the Sicilian town of Novara di Sicilia. This ancient medieval center is an ancient village located in the province of Messina, whose name seems to come from a transformation of the ancient Latin name Noa into the Arabic language Nouah, which means "flower garden", to indicate the beauty of this territory, so appreciated by the Arabs when they settled here. The “Maiorchino Tournament” is a game that was once very popular in the province of Messina (Sicily) in the areas of the Nebrodi and Peloritani mountains, but which today survives exclusively in the town of Novara di Sicilia; the game-competition, complete with cheering towards the various teams, takes place during the Carnival period, it is a team competition (each team consists of three players, both men and women), which consists in throwing a heavy circular shape the precious Novara di Sicilia cheese called “Maiorchino” (cheese made with sheep's and goat's milk, whose weight varies between 10 and 12 kg); to throw the heavy cheese the players use a rope that is wound (as if it were a yo-yo) along the circumference of the cheese, a rope that is previously treated with pitch, to make it more "sticky" when it is unrolled during the launch; the route is downhill and is in stages, the total length of which is about one kilometer; to complete the entire course each team will have to do a lot of throws, the team that completes the entire course with fewer throws as possible wins. The photographs of the tournament, both for men and women, I took on Shrove Tuesday this year 2022, while the last two past editions were not taken due to the covid-19 pandemic.
L’isola di Sicilia è una terra che non si finisce mai di scoprire, ricchissima di tesori naturali, di opere artistiche, di manufatti frutto dell’ingegno umano, nel suo panorama storico e culturale sono le tradizioni popolari quelle che rappresentano una ineguagliabile “eco vivente, statica e dinamica al tempo stesso” che esistono (e persistono) divenendo visibili, solo nel momento in cui è il popolo stesso che decide di dare voce ad esse, tradizioni le cui radici sprofondano in un oscuro e lontano passato fatto di culture stratificate tra loro, molto spesso sinonimo di guerre e dominazioni, per gettare foglie sempre verdi nel presente: questo come preambolo di quanto vado a descrivere in parole e fotografie, della tradizionale festa popolare del “torneo del Maiorchino”, unica nel suo genere, che si è tenuto quest’anno nel paese siciliano di Novara di Sicilia. Questo antico centro medioevale è un antico borgo situato in provincia di Messina, Il cui nome sembrerebbe provenire da una trasformazione dell’antico nome latino Noa nella lingua araba Nouah, che significa “giardino fiorito”, ad indicare la bellezza di questo territorio, così apprezzato dagli Arabi quando qui si insediarono. Il “Torneo del Maiorchino”, è un gioco in passato molto diffuso in provincia di Messina nelle zone dei monti Nebrodi e dei monti Peloritani, ma che oggi sopravvive esclusivamente a Novara di Sicilia; il gioco-competizione, con tanto di tifo verso le varie squadre, si svolge durante il periodo di Carnevale, è una gara a squadre (ogni squadra è composta da tre giocatori, sia uomini che donne), che consiste nel lanciare una pesante forma circolare del pregiato formaggio di Novara di Sicilia chiamato “Maiorchino” (formaggio realizzato con latte di pecora e di capra, il cui peso varia tra i 10 ed i 12 Kg); per lanciare il pesante formaggio ci si avvale di una corda che viene avvolta (come se fosse uno di yo-yo) lungo La circonferenza del formaggio, corda che viene precedentemente trattata con della pece, per renderla più “adesiva” quando verrà srotolata durante il lancio; il percorso è in discesa ed è a tappe, la cui lunghezza totale è di circa un chilometro; per completare l’intero percorso ogni squadra dovrà fare molto lanci, vince la squadra che completerà l’intero percorso con meno lanci possibili. Le fotografie del torneo, sia maschile che femminile, le ho realizzate il giorno di martedì grasso di quest’anno 2022, mentre le due ultime passate edizioni non state realizzate a causa della pandemia da covid-19.
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HEEY !!
New release! for MOM ♡ !
.PALETO. Backdrop:. Mausoleu
Land Impact 40
Miniature VERSION at the event
PS:(happening draw on facebook page)
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The banner behind them might indicate a parade of some kind. I did a half-arsed repair on the ear of one horse that had a big glob of something stuck to it, but otherwise I love the yellowed look.
Men
[Cubic Cherry] {Kairis} neck augment BLACK
[MR] BJORN HEAD TATTOO AND HAIRBASE
Vango. Tom
Wicca's Originals - Rowley Bindi
L'Emporio&PL::* Arioch*:: Rings
L'Emporio&PL::* Boran*::- FEET ROPE
L'Emporio&PL::* Dorian*:: Waistcoat
L'Emporio&PL::* Dragon's Grip*::Armor jewels
L'Emporio&PL::* Gavin*:: -Kilt with Pants
THIS IS WRONG Nowhere shine+tattoo 3D
f u o e y . Colin Skin Ruddy
. : Mea Tenebra : . Knox
CKEY Poses - Enosi
Women
AVEC TOI - Belladonna Bra
AVEC TOI - Belladonna Waspie
RAMA.SALON - Kailey Hair
NaaNaa's Mermaid Necklace Silver
REIGN.- LINA PATENT PLATFORMS
Comatosed - La Fama Set
For my friend NatuurfotoRien/Rien in Holland, who loves corvids.
I had this odd notion that when I retire I would carve a totem pole, and so over the years, I learned more and more about northwest coast art, culture, and carving. One of the pieces I studied was this - a huge cedar sculpture carved by the great sculptor, Bill Reid, to whom the telling of this ancient story is credited.
Bill Reid was a Haida indian (Haida is their word for “human”). The Haida tribe lives in the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of northern Canada (below Alaska), in a special place they call Haida Gwaii. Bill is widely credited for reviving the arts of the northwest coast - he was an amazing sculptor. I am disappointed I will never meet him.
The northwest coast tribes have many gods - all animals. Raven is the Haida equivalent of “fox”. Tricky, playful, smart, inquisitive - these are all qualities of Raven, whose play and trickery created the stars in the sky, the sun, the ocean and man.
The man-size (literally) sculpture is inside the University of British Columbia museum in Vancouver, Canada. When it was installed, Bill had the children of Haida Gwaii come to the installation - each with bottles of sand from the beach at Haida Gwaii, so Raven, could be installed in his native soil.
Here is his telling of their genesis myth - one of the most sacred stories in Haida culture:
The Story of the Raven Creating Man by Bill Reid
The great flood which had covered the earth for so long had receded, and even the thin strip of sand now called Rose Spit, stretching north from Naikun village lay dry. The Raven had flown there to gorge himself on the delicacies left by the receding water, so for once he wasn't hungry. But his other appetites - lust, curiosity and the unquenchable itch to meddle and provoke things, to play tricks on the world and its creatures - these remained unsatisfied.
He had recently stolen the light from the old man who kept it hidden in a box in his house in the middle of the darkness, and had scattered it throughout the sky. The new light spattered the night with stars and waxed and wane in the shape of the moon. And it dazzled the day with a single bright shining which lit up the long beach that curved from the spit beneath Raven's feet westward as far as Tao Hill. Pretty as it was, it looked lifeless and so to the Raven quite boring. He gave a great sigh, crossed his wings behind his back and walked along the sand, his shiny head cocked, his sharp eyes and ears alert for any unusual sight or sound. Then taking to the air, he called petulantly out to the empty sky. To his delight, he heard an answering cry - or to describe it more closely, a muffled squeak.
At first he saw nothing, but as he scanned the beach again, a white flash caught his eye, and when he landed he found at his feet, buried in the sand, a gigantic clamshell. When he looked more closely still, he saw that the shell was full of little creatures cowering in terror of his enormous shadow.
Well, here was something to break the monotony of his day. But nothing was going to happen as long as the tiny things stayed in the shell, and they certainly weren't coming out in their present terrified state. So the Raven leaned his great head close to the shell, and with the smooth trickster's tongue that had got him into and out of so many misadventures during his troubled and troublesome existence, he coaxed and cajoled and coerced the little creatures to come out and play in his wonderful, shiny new world. As you know the Raven speaks in two voices, one harsh and strident, and the other, which he used now, a seductive bell-like croon which seems to come from the depths of the sea, or out of the cave where the winds are born. It is an irresistible sound, one of the loveliest sounds in the world. So it wasn't long before one and then another of the little shell-dwellers timidly emerged. Some of them immediately scurried back when they saw the immensity of the sea and the sky, and the overwhelming blackness of the Raven. But eventually curiosity overcame caution and all of them had crept or scrambled out. Very strange creatures they were: two-legged like the Raven, but there the resemblance ended. They had no glossy feathers, no thrusting beak. Their skin was pale, and they were naked except for the long black hair on their round, flat-featured heads. Instead of strong wings, they had thin stick-like appendages that waved, and fluttered constantly. They were the original Haidas, the first humans.
For a long time the Raven amused himself with his new playthings, watching them as they explored their much expanded-world. Sometimes they helped one another in their new discoveries. Just as often, they squabbled over some novelty they found on the beach. And the Raven taught them some clever tricks, at which they proved remarkably adept. But the Raven's attention span was brief, and he grew tired of his small companions. For one thing, they were all males. He had looked up and down the beach for female creatures, hoping to make the game more interesting, but females were nowhere to be found. He was about to shove the now tired, demanding and quite annoying little creatures back into their shell and forget about them when suddenly - as happens so often with the Raven - he had an idea.
He picked up the men, and in spite of their struggles and cries of fright he put them on his broad back, where they hid themselves among his feathers. Then the Raven spread his wings and flew to North Island. the tide was low, and the rocks, as he had expected, were covered with those large but soft-lipped molluscs known as red chitons. The Raven shook himself gently, and the men slid down his back to the sand. The he flew to the rock and with his strong beak pried a chiton from its surface.
Now, if any of you have ever examined the underside of a chiton, you may begin to understand what the Raven had in his libidinous, devious mind. He threw back his head and flung the chiton at the nearest of the men. His aim was as unerring as only a great magician's can be, and the chiton found its mark in the delicate groin of the startled, shell-born creature. There the chiton attached itself firmly. Then as sudden as spray hitting the rocks from a breaking wave, a shower of chitons broke over the wide-eyed humans, as each of the open-mouthed shellfish flew inexorably to its target.
Nothing quite like this had ever happened to the men. They had never dreamed of such a thing during their long stay in the clamshell. They were astounded, embarrassed, confused by a rush of new emotions and sensations. They shuffled and squirmed, uncertain whether it was pleasure or pain they were experiencing. They threw themselves down on the beach, where a great storm seemed to break over them, followed just as suddenly by a profound calm. One by one the chitons dropped off. The men staggered to their feet and headed slowly down the beach, followed by the raucous laughter of the Raven, echoing all the way to the great island to the north which we now call Prince of Wales.
That first troop of male humans soon disappeared behind the nearest headland, passing out of the games of the Raven and the story of humankind. Whether they found their way back to the shell, or lived out their lives elsewhere, or perished in the strange environment in which they found themselves, nobody remembers, and perhaps nobody cares. They had played their roles and gone their way.
Meanwhile the chitons had made their way back to the rock, where they attached themselves as before. But they too had been changed. As high tide followed low and the great storms of winter gave way to the softer rains and warm sun of spring, the chitons grew and grew, many times larger than their kind had ever been before. Their jointed shells seemed about to fly apart from the enormous pressure within them. And one day a huge wave swept over the rock, tore them from their footholds and carried them back to the beach. As the water receded and the warm sun dried the sand, a great stirring began among the chitons. From each emerged a brown skinned, black-haired human. This time there were both males and females among them, and the Raven could begin his greatest game: the one that still goes on.
They were no timid shell-dwellers these, but children of the wild coast, born between the sea and land, challenging the strength of the stormy North Pacific and wresting from it rich livelihood. Their descendants built on its beaches the strong, beautiful homes of the Haidas and embellished them with the powerful heraldic carvings that told of the legendary beginnings of great families, all the heros and heroines and the gallant beasts and monsters who shaped their world and their destinies. For many generations they grew and flourished, built and created, fought and destroyed, living according to the changing seasons and the unchanging rituals of their rich and complex lives.
It's nearly over now. Most of the villages are abandoned, and those which have not entirely vanished lie in ruins. The people who remain are changed. The sea has lost much of its richness, and great areas of land itself lie in waste. Perhaps it's time the Raven started looking for another clamshell.
Hermano Menor or Makatira Island is an island located off Santa Cruz town in Zambales province. Just 20 minutes away by boat from the town, it is surrounded by white sand beaches including this curving sandbar.
La foto es solo una excusa, una herramienta para hacer extensivo el mensaje, ¡ no es publicidad !, no es un engaño , es solamente un grito desesperado para conseguir un fin , salvar el que es uno de los entornos man singulares a nivel europeo mundial y desde luego único en España . Desconocido por muchos y maltratado por otros durante décadas de crecimiento urbanístico y expansión agrícola descontrolada. Si esperamos que lo salven los gobernantes ya esta acabado. Nos toca aportar y lo tenemos muy facil solamente con una firma “física” en alguno puntos señalado en el mapa del enlace para conseguir que el Mar Menor tenga personalidad jurídica lo que ayudara a agilizar los tramites para su defensa y conservación.
Firma y haz correr la voz porque es de todos
The photo is only an excuse, a tool to spread the message, it is not advertising! It is not a hoax, it is only a desperate cry to achieve an end, to save what is one of the most unique environments in Europe worldwide. and of course unique in Spain. Unknown to many and mistreated by others during decades of urban growth and uncontrolled agricultural expansion. If we wait for the rulers to save it, it is finished. We have to contribute and we have it very easy only with a "physical" signature at some point indicated on the link map to ensure that the Mar Menor has legal personality, which will help speed up the procedures for its defense and conservation.
Sign and spread the word because it belongs to everyone
Runners in the Mens 100m Final at the Aviva 2010 UK Athletics Championships and European Trials at the Alexandra Stadium in Birmingham
PERMISSION TO USE: Please check the licence for this photo on Flickr. If the photo is marked with the Creative Commons licence, you are welcome to use this photo free of charge for any purpose including commercial. I am not concerned with how attribution is provided - a link to my flickr page or my name is fine. If used in a context where attribution is impractical, that's fine too. I enjoy seeing where my photos have been used so please send me links, screenshots or photos where possible. If the photo is not marked with the Creative Commons licence, only my friends and family are permitted to use it.