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CSX's Y302 goes about its business in West Springfield, mingling with power for Connecticut Southern's turn to New Haven.
Amidst the towering crags of New Zealand's Southern Alps, there lay a lake of still and startling clarity, its surface like an untold secret held aloft in the arms of the mountains. The waters, deep and gem-bright, seemed to shift with every breath of the wind, a mingling of unearthly blue and green as if Ulmo himself had paused to bestow a fragment of the Great Sea upon this hidden vale. The air was sharp and pure, carrying with it the faint scent of stone and moss, and the murmur of distant streams, like a voice half-forgotten, spoke of ages older than memory.
The peaks rose around the lake in stern, unbroken lines, their flanks streaked with the last remnants of winter's snow, gleaming under the pale light. They were dark and unyielding, as though they had been carved in some distant age by hands that knew no weariness, each ridge and precipice imbued with an ancient dignity that words could scarcely capture. Shadows pooled in their crevices, deep and blue as twilight, while their heights, crowned in white, pierced the heavens with an austere and remote grace.
Close to the water’s edge, the land softened, though only slightly, into rolling turf strewn with outcroppings of grey stone. Here, the earth was brightened by a constellation of pale flowers, their slender stalks bent in homage to the mountain wind. Their petals, white as starlight, opened boldly under the sky, while their golden centers gleamed faintly, like the ember of a distant beacon. Among the grass and rocks, thin rivulets threaded their way, the water tracing paths as if guided by unseen hands, their trickling song filling the stillness with a music both delicate and strange.
The lake itself lay tranquil, save for the faintest rippling at its edges, where stones and reeds rested like weary travelers. At its heart, a solitary island rose, austere and quiet, its surface cloaked in moss and lichen. It seemed to float upon the waters like some remnant of forgotten lore, a place untouched by the long march of years. One might imagine it as a refuge, a place where time paused and the cares of the waking world faded like the memory of a dream.
The sky above arched vast and untethered, its cerulean depths brushed with thin, trailing clouds that seemed to drift without haste, as though content to linger in such a place. Here, beneath that unbounded vault, the world felt older, deeper—a land not marked by the footsteps of mortals but shaped by a power far older, far slower, and far more enduring.
If one listened closely, they might think the echoes of another age stirred faintly here. The music of Ainur might once have woven through such waters, or the distant tread of some forgotten wanderer might have passed this way. Yet the place bore no sign of dominion, no touch of claim or mastery; it belonged to itself, untamed and unmarred, as though drawn directly from the Song before the world’s breaking.
...
Location: Lake Wilson in Otago, NZ
i am grateful for my shop,
and how it hosted an event tonight with an extremely talented guest artist,
and was a place for eager creative hearts to gather,
and for the sweet friend who helped me put this window display together.
it's a special place, this shop of mine.
day 14 : a year of living positively
"...it's all inside human nature...to explore the both side of the coin...to endure and embrace the darkness as well as the light itself. And so does the satire of good and evil begins within human heart...a mingle into the duplexity of human emotions towards infinite perception...."
EXiF :
Camera : Nikon D5100
Lens : 55-200mm f4-5.6G ED VR
Focal Length : 60mm
Shutter Speed : 1/125sec
Aperture : f/8
ISO : 100
ArchQuad Photography | 2013
Heading to the office, on a day not as scorching as this one, and mingling with tourists and other office workers as I cross Tower Bridge.
Having been out for a lovely afternoon my friends and I decided on one final drink before heading home and ended up in this busy pub by Tower Bridge with early evening drinkers. I could not resist having this photo taken.
Textures from Helen's Textures www.flickr.com/photos/hroach/4369961289/in/set-7215762343...
and Chamomille fr Kim Klassen
it feels like forced dating and can be awkward but its great fun! The HAA did a great job creating the town and challenges !
Drawing with borrowed lasers -
Using straight laser lights shot during the DLECTRICITY Light Art Event.
(I altered my settings to grab a wider band of light.)
Inverted
Say I chew desire and water is an explosion
of sugar wings in my mouth.
Say it tastes of you.
Say I could drown because you left
for the time it takes a blackbird to understand
a pine tree.
Say we enter the pine woods at dawn.
We never slept and the only opium we smoked
was what became of our mingled breath.
Say the stars have never learned
to say good-bye. (One is a jewel
of blue magic in your perfect ear.)
Say all of this is true and more
then there are blackbirds
in a heaven of blackbirds.
~Joy Harjo
310/366
P.S. I am posting early for tomorrow, it is going to be another rainy day, which I am determined to enjoy outside :)