View allAll Photos Tagged Metaphors
Eerie yet beautiful, Alcatraz is a photographer's playground, especially on a clear day with blue skies. Bring your windbreaker, though; as always, being out on San Francisco is a chilly experience, even in the middle of summer.
METAPHOR OF LIFE, of knots and ropes and hooks.
Wonderful rope… I see it as a symbol of how, in a good relationship, you as a person, together with your partner, your lives become 'intertwined' and therefore so much stronger.
Soul mates will feel themselves bonded together for a lifetime.
And it goes further… all so ‘connected’, how we can touch the lives of many, many we do not even know personally or my never meet… especially nowadays.
However, connection through PHOTOGRAPHY! Many people can be touched by an image...
Have a wonderful day, filled with love and beauty, THANKS FOR VIEWING!!! M, (*_*)
And for more of my other work or if you want to purchase, visit here: www.indigo2photography.com
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no matter if you go right or left. Final destination is the graveyard.
Egal ob rechts oder links, am Ende sind wir alle tot
(re-edit)
Film: expired & cross-processed Kodak Supra 800
Camera: Cosina CX-2
Find more at linktr.ee/ale.di.gangi
October 14.
The snow blanket outside my window this morning was sweets. Perhaps the feeling was accentuated because I had gone to bed thinking of season metaphors last night. Of course, we will return to another week of sunshine and usual fall temperatures as early as tomorrow morning. Still, I think these weather caprices have a deeper value than breaking the seasonal monotony. They make us think.
As Adam Gopnik puts it, "human beings make metaphors as naturally as bees make honey." We speak of the hopeful childish spring, careless sweet summer, mature colorful fall, and cold truthful winter. But then it snows unexpectedly in fall, or the temperature falls unexpectedly in summer, and boom, we are reminded to accept that the world exists beyond our illusions. Our metaphors barely touch true meanings.
Our emotions are funny, though. Optimist skiers in my city woke up happy with the hope of a snowy winter; summer lovers unhappy because their fall nostalgia got interrupted; children wondrous with their noses pressed against the window next to their pets, and I laughed at my coincidence - I had been thinking of season metaphors after a birthday celebration with some friends the night before.
As Gopnik puts it, "what we have in modern times, after all, is really a season of festivals," and we will not stop making metaphors in our search for meaning.
I am a sucker for metaphors. Winter decided to surprise the fall with a sweet Sunday visit this October 14. To add to the poetry, I decided to post a spring photo.
A metaphor I've heard a few times over the years: Those swans glide silently and gracefully over the water, yet if you were to look at them from below, you'd see how chaotic their feet are moving to propel them. Guess it was supposed to say something like, don't judge a book by its cover, or still waters run deep, something like that. In it's, frankly, wrong. If the movement was chaotic, the birds would never move in a straight line. It's fast movement, fair enough, but it's about as chaotic as the inner workings of a combustion engine, or the conrods of a steam locomotive.
Turns out a swan has more in common with a paddle wheel steamer than with a jetski. I guess that would be another viable method to generate thrust, but swans don't eat enough beans for that.
Ans not just swans, also ducks and many other things moving in the water.
This bird bath looking mausoleum flourish sports a cherub, claw feet, and a core that resembles a Titan Arum a.k.a "corpse flower".
© All Rights Reserved. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my prior permission.
Created for MacroMondays - Theme - Metaphors
I could put multiple metaphors for this one.
Here's one, "Life is a bed of roses."
And then a transformation of Forrest Gump's simile to "Life is a box of chocolate."
A reference to Juliet's speech about Romeo's name, "A rose by any other name should smell so sweet."
Thank you for your time to view and all of your comments. Have a Happy MacroMonday and Happy Valentine's Day!
The horses spin but never race,
each thought a bridle, stitched in lace.
His memories ride in quiet dread,
a carnival of things unsaid.
My entry for this week's theme competition. The theme is to design an album cover with a band name starting with, AM.
Image of Aging.
Contax645 + Distagon 45mmF2.8
Rollieretro400S / D76 1:1
Have a nice weekend, my friends.
I will catch up you tomorrow as it`s difficult to keep my mind awake tonight.
明日訪問させていただきます。冬眠中のクマのように眠くて今日はもうだめです。
Looks like Queen’s Gambit, castling long, but so many questions … Have golden royals infiltrated opposition lines? Why are institutions and moral leaders falling? Why does the gold Queen seem distracted and dirty? Why does the gold King hide his face?
Explore no.424, 11 March 2025
Sisters
Emily and Sarah Schultz
Last upload for a while, but I'll be off and on looking at your work.
© Cynthia E. Wood
www.cynthiawoodphoto.com | FoundFolios | facebook | Blurb
[I see this as a metaphor -- for the failure to meet, to connect...but also the persistent possibility, however tenuous, that they will one day succeed...in closing the gap...in bridging the divide...be it swirling or angular. But maybe I read too much into things. Or maybe I'm a bad reader.]
Yet another example of mental dysfunction masquerading as artistic creativity. I keep trying to ignore the tattered remains of funeral flower arrangements. But so far I've just been unable to manage it. The attraction seems to be inversely proportional to the degree of withering they sustain in the days following the internment. Their purpose was served on day one, yet they remain as forlorn sentinels sometimes for weeks and months afterward. I get it. Loved ones just can't quite bring themselves to remove the arrangements from the gravesite. To do so is like an unbearable final farewell. So they remain, steeped in sadness. The utter dichotomy is what guides me to these lonely markers...flowers once full of life, color and imbued with a sense of vitality and joy now wilted, dull and drab. It's the ultimate metaphor for mortality itself, that of a life well-lived but now spent as the next generation ascends another rung on the ladder of life.
A variation on the Synapsis theme as a 'middle 8' or largo between the Allegro and the Andante Allegro of the first and third pieces.
Music Link: Astralasia - "Bhagwash" from their album "Axis Mundi".
www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIynXeTp1rE
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