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IL CORAGGIO DI VIVERE
Foto 47: Arcipelago delle Canarie, isola di Tenerife, Spagna.
Foto anno 2016
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UN NUOVO PROGETTO 1° parte
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Di sicuro, questo viaggio a Cuba,
dette motivazioni importanti a mia moglie.
La "cura" fu così efficace che tornò piena di vigore e positività.
Il mio senso di colpa, era diventato d'improvviso sopportabile,
acquisendo una visione della vita molto diversa.
Da allora ribaltai le priorità.
Voglio vivere ogni attimo come un dono di Dio.
Lottare e condividere le giornate partendo dal sorriso del mattino.
Armonia e benessere interiore a fortificare un modo semplice e meraviglioso di percepire la bellezza del mondo.
Insomma, vivere.
Nemmeno il tempo di tornare che Anto si mise in testa di allestire un secondo negozio ben più grande e di livello.
La ghiotta occasione arrivò dopo pochi mesi.
A due passi da Piazza dei Miracoli scovammo un fondo antico e pieno di fascino.
Con al centro un bell'arco in pietra.
Un sogno di Antonella e lo confesso, anche mio.
Poter un giorno lavorare nei pressi di una delle piazze più ammirate al mondo.
Per la prima volta non avevamo grossi problemi di budget.
L'assicurazione aveva in parte risarcito le sofferenze d' Antonella.
E questo "dono" fu manna per uno "pseudo" arredatore d'interni.
segue testo, paragrafo successivo
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© Il testo è di esclusiva proprietà dell'autore, Stefano Paradossi, che ne detiene i diritti e ne vieta qualsiasi utilizzo da parte di terzi. La foto fa parte dell'Archivio Fotografico della famiglia Paradossi.
© The text is of exclusive property of the author, Stefano Paradossi, who owns the rights and prohibits any use by third parties. The image is part of the Photo Archive of the Paradossi family.
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Autumn at the door
Muse: Giulia Pontoni
Foto: Michele Marcolin
Luogo: MEM Studio, Pavia di Udine (UD), Italy
Tools: K1ii + DFA 50mm f1.4
Another of the few shots I stole at the studio, during the short visit I paid to Gigi this year. Due to various commitments that had been keeping my mind busy during my stay in Europe, not lastly also an elbow inflammation that was giving me problems in handling my cameras, I did not have plan to shot this time. However, resisting the call of the photographic wild for a concert and event photographer, which is used to exploit any situation, was impossible to ignore. Particularly with such a beautiful muse.
Try ignore
all problems and you'll be happy in your day ..
you must leave all things makes you sad , angry , tired , crying .!!
Nothing worth
Smile and look for happiness.. ,
- Virginia Satir.
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During my preparations for a trip to Bryce Canyon, I chanced upon a hidden gem, Red Canyon. Nestled en route to Bryce, this lesser-known state park boasts a handful of hiking trails and a cozy campground. The particular trail that caught my eye was described as a showcase of Utah's unique red rock formations. Having already visited Bryce, I anticipated a similar sight, albeit with a twist.
Little did I know that Red Canyon would be a delightful surprise. The rocks here, a striking shade of red, outshine even the famed hues of Bryce, which lean more towards orange. The trails, though steep and technical, offered a thrilling adventure. Arriving well past sunrise, I had to be cautious not to overexpose the vibrant reds in my photos. In fact, it was a rare instance where I had to desaturate my images during post-processing.
After finding Adamson's calotype method didn't permit much time between coating and developing when it was warm here, I decided to try Arsène Pélegry's method as modified by Rick Lanning. Aside from some speckles (my fault) it worked a treat. It's 2 stops slower than Adamson's method and perhaps more expensive, but the negatives just might last long enough to take on a trip - that would be wonderful.
Plus it seems to work well right up to the edge. I had problems with my Adamson's negatives where the varying ratios of chemicals - plus my fingerprints - would cause a lot of crap near the borders.
LA FAMIGLIA
Foto 28 zia Ambrosina.
foto anno 1917
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UN AMORE IMPOSSIBILE 1° parte
Ricordate Pilade, detto Alfredo?
Ovviamente non l'ho potuto conoscere essendo morto nel 1945,
ma affettuosamente lo vorrei chiamare il gigante buono.
La maggiore delle sue amorevoli figlie si chiamava Ambrosina,
e nacque nel 1892.
Mi racconta mio padre che era una donna molto bella e dal carattere deciso.
La foto la ritrae in modo stupendo,
sembra una principessa, proprio come Pilade la chiamava.
Fu una pioniera delle femministe,
un movimento che poi si sviluppò molti anni dopo.
L'unica che non ebbe figli, non perché non poteva averli,
ma per via delle avverse vicissitudini che il destino, talvolta,
ci riserva.
E per dirla tutta, anche per un voto che si era imposta.
Nel 1915 all'inizio della prima guerra mondiale,
zia Ambrosina a 23 anni, conobbe un uomo di pari età,
un certo Piero.
Il regno D'Italia, cominciava a "scricchiolare" e lentamente si stavano affacciando altri ideali ben più libertari.
Si parlava, ancora a grandi linee di Repubblica Italiana,
direi un tema epocale e molto dibattuto.
Anche zia Ambrosina, per la verità,
aveva questo piglio innovativo e trovava quell'uomo così idealista, di un fascino irresistibile.
Non bello, ma ammaliante quello sì quando,
paonazzo in volto dal trasporto emotivo,
faceva una delle sue tante arringhe in favore della libertà di pensiero dei cittadini.
Troppo irrequieto ed incostante,
passava da momenti di euforia patriottica,
a lunghi periodi di apatia e sconforto.
Amava molto la zia,
ma il richiamo della lotta contro la monarchia,
stava minando le certezze della donna.
Lui le ripeteva spesso:
"un giorno ti sposerò, ed i nostri figli non saranno dei sudditi,
bensì dei cittadini liberi di una Repubblica Democratica".
Dopo un paio d'anni, forse pressato da problemi politici,
sparì dal giorno alla notte,
lasciando mia zia nella più cupa costernazione.
Quell'amore la segnò a fuoco, nessun altro era come lui,
ed andò avanti nel suo ricordo senza mai sposarsi.
Questo il voto che fece a se stessa.
Dopo ben 26 anni,
Piero d'improvviso ricomparve a Pisa in modo misterioso.
Tante cose erano cambiate, eravamo guarda la coincidenza,
in piena 2° guerra mondiale,
e tra le altre cose, dell'Italia Repubblicana,
ancora niente da fare, complice il ventennio fascista.
Piero ormai con i capelli brizzolati,
si mise a cercare la nostra famiglia,
ed in particolare la "sua" amata Ambrosina.
Mio padre, allora diciassettenne, fu subito preso come "gancio" per l'operazione "recupero di un amore impossibile".
Era l'unico uomo che trovò Piero,
per effettuare un primo sondaggio.
Vi ricordo che babbo,
non lo conosceva affatto quel tizio assai strambo.
Piero, lo spasimante ravveduto,
raccontò in breve la sua rocambolesca storia di vita all'adolescente Lamberto.
Nel 1917 dovette fuggire in fretta e furia nella notte,
avendo saputo da un amico fidato,
che al mattino sarebbero venuti i gendarmi per arrestarlo.
Capo d'accusa, diserzione.
Un uomo con quegli ideali,
non poteva certo stare dalla parte del re.
Si rifugiò in Francia, da lontani parenti di sua madre.
Dopo qualche anno, con un colpo di testa da matto quale era,
si arruolò nella legione straniera partendo per l'Africa,
dove combattè svariati anni.
Una volta congedato per raggiunti limiti d'età,
decise di punto in bianco di tornare a Pisa.
Era il mese di gennaio del 1943.
Di sicuro, l'imprevedibilità era una sua caratteristica che lo contraddistinse per tutta la vita.
Anche lui non si era mai sposato,
pensando sempre ad Ambrosina ed ai suoi occhi azzurri,
gli anni erano trascorsi in un baleno senza poter concretizzare il sogno di sempre.
Qualche volta aveva pensato anche di scriverle una lettera.
Non ne ebbe mai il coraggio.
Ma come... combatti per la legione straniera,
e non sai esternare il sentimento d'amore verso la tua donna?
Vallo a capire Piero.
(segue alla foto successiva)
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© Il testo è di esclusiva proprietà dell'autore, Stefano Paradossi, che ne detiene i diritti e ne vieta qualsiasi utilizzo da parte di terzi. La foto fa parte dell'Archivio Fotografico della famiglia Paradossi.
© The text is of exclusive property of the author, Stefano Paradossi, who owns the rights and prohibits any use by third parties. The image is part of the Photo Archive of the Paradossi family.
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I am not religious at all, I believe in good and bad and that is it. In my opinion religion has caused most of the problems in the world..
However, when there is a natural display of beauty as there was this morning I can't help but wonder if there is a guiding hand after all.
123 Pictures in 2023, theme # 114 What A Wonderful World
Grudziądz is a town located in the northern Poland on the Vistula River, near the Osa River; it ia an urban county situated in Kujawsko - Pomorskie Voivodeship (Province).
The first reference to Grudziądz appears in the document from 1065 - the document sent by Boleslaus the Brave to the St. Benedictine Monastery in Mogilno. Castrum Grudomzch is mentioned as one of the towns from which the monastery received tithe payments.
The etymology of the town's name has been the source of arguments among researchers. Some of them point out that the name derives from the word "gród" (fortified settlement), others claim that the name originates from the word "gruda" (a hard clod of soil, existing in this area in abundance). There are also those, however, who due to the town's close proximity to the border with Prussia, consider the name "Grudziądz" to be of Prussian origin.
In 1231, the Teutonic Order took over the town with the surrounding settlement; at the same time, the Order made diplomatic efforts to eliminate the competition of the Prussian bishop in Chełmno Land and Prussia. The written history of Grudziądz dates back to 1222 and is strongly related to Christian - the missionary bishop of Prussia. In 1299, Meinhard from Kwerfurt, the Land Master of the Teutonic Order, granted the town a location privilege and new charter according to the Chełmno Law.
In 1415, thanks to Michał Kuchmeister, the Great Master of Teutonic Order, the first waterworks supplied by the mill waters could be conducted. However, due to the continuous problems with water supply, and thanks to the permission of King Sigmund August, Trynka Canal was dug in 1552. The Castle of the Teutonic Order was built north of the city in the second half of the 13th century.
Only in the 15th century was the contiunous development of the town possible. After the Order provided the town with a number of economic benefits, Grudziądz became a craft and trade centre. Having few ranaries, the town participated in the corn trade in the north-eastern part of Chełm Land.
The uprising which broke out on January 14, 1454 was soon suppressed on February 8. For over 300 years Grudziądz belonged to the Polish Duchy. In the new circumastances the town became a part of Chełm Voivodeship.
An intensive industrial development in the second half of the 19th century, the construction of the railway line and the bridge on the Vistula River promised well for the future of the town. First, Grudziądz-Jabłonowo (1876), and later Grudziądz - Laskowice (1879) and Grudziądz - Chełmża railway lines were established. In 1885, in the south-eastern suburbs of the town, Central Railway Station was built; around the railway junction the new district was created.
What's this, an invitation? To the Annual Fund-Raiser's Ball? Sanura stared at the invitation in her hand, all white and pristine. "Why would I get such an invitation?" She asks herself. "I'm not rich, nor do I have social standings in that community." She continues to stare at the invitation, a look of bewilderment on her face. The name on the card was definitely hers. How though, and why? She just could not understand why she would be invited to such a high end event. At any rate it was her name, and it looked official. Now her only problem, a dress. How could she afford a formal dress? On her salary, it was just impossible ...
Two days till the Ball and still no dress, "I guess I just won't go." Sanura tells herself. She turns her head to the knock at her door, moving to the door quickly. She opens the door to find a delivery man standing there, with a sizable package in his hand.
"Your name Sanura?" the man asks. When she nods, he replies. "Good sign here please," as he hands her a clipboard.
Sanura signs the paper, asking. "What is it?" When the man doesn't answer, but only offers a shrug of his shoulders; she nods a farewell and closes the door. She rushes to the couch to open the package, and gasps at what she sees. A beautiful white, silky formal dress. She holds it up to herself and twirls around, then sways back and forth as if she were dancing with someone. Wait, she thinks to herself; who could have sent this to me? She searches the box for a card, or something that might tell her who would give her such and expensive dress. Nothing, not a single clue, as to who ...
Is the night of the ball, and there is the cab. Time to go Sanura, she tells herself. She takes one last look at herself and with a satisfied nod, heads to the cab.
The entire way there, things ran through her mind. Like, why me, who would wish me there? What if it's a mistake? Will they throw me out? Maybe I should just have the cabby turn the car around. When she arrives at the large mansion, all her thoughts just fly out the window. As a child she had always dreamed of living in such a large beautiful home. Now to be able to actually visit one, to be at a regal party inside one. All she could do was look in awe at the building before her. When the cabby spoke she nearly jumped out of her skin. She payed the guy, and stepped out of the car, walking slowly to the entrance ...
Two hours had passed, and Sanura had been having the time of her life. She danced with numerous men, some young, some old, and some around her own age. She didn't mind, she was just happy to be here. She ate some of the finest gourmet food she had ever tasted before. Talked with some of the most interesting people she had ever met. Now she was standing, sort of in a corner, just taking it all in. She had been watching a couple, that appeared to her to be from India possibly; their attire surely caused that assumption. When out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. He was absolutely gorgeous, shoulder length black hair. Bright blue eyes, that she could see from clear across the room. A well styled and kept goatee, and what looked to be a very expensive tux. His eyes, those ice blue eyes. They seemed to look straight through her, and a shiver ran right down her spine. The dream played in reverse in her mind, and she barely took a breath. Was this her dream, was this man from the dream? Surely she was in her bed at this very moment, and this was nothing more then that very dream. The panic she felt was more then enough to make her run. She ran straight through the crowd and down the long steps, to the street, where she caught the first cab that stopped. When she reached her apartment, she slammed the door, leaning against it. Her breathing was so fast and heavy, her chest was rising and falling as if she had ran a mile straight. When she had finally calmed herself and made her way to her room, she rested her head on her pillow, closing her eyes; hoping this night would be different. "Please, not tonight." The only words whispered in the still of her darkened room, as she fell into a restless sleep ...
A bonus "Friday Face" this week. I don't understand Japanese. However, it was quite possible to interpret what was going on in this photo.
I saw the passenger get up from her seat, but too late to get off the train at her stop. She had probably nodded off as so many people do on Japanese public transport. She walked down the train to find the conductress. The conductress very politely invited her to sit down opposite us and came back a couple of minutes later with information that she should get off at a particular station to connect with a service going the opposite way. Something was then written on the ticket which I imagine gave the lady a free ride back down the line.
Flickr Explore # 397 Sunday, May 8, 2016
No, it's not gratuitous use of the Flood filter, there was plenty of lake in front of this temple; I simply rotated the scene 180 in Photoshop (plus a few other tweaks, of course).
Taken today: Wat Chalerm Prakiat. Nonthaburi.
Apologies, my ISP problems have resurfaced, hence no post and no visits to your images yesterday / today (I'm briefly in the office to post this).
I was enamored with the small bit of hoar frost and was hoping for a bit more on the trees, but they had some problems with the air which delayed their departure. The sun had burned through the fog up the hill long enough that it was rapidly falling off the trees by the time it got up here. The frost was still hanging onto the the lead motor--the legacy weld spots from its former service as a CP Holiday Train offered for some additional detail.
Over the last 24 hours I have received no notifications of any new photographs you may have added to your photo steams. Hopefully it will soon be sorted and I will be able to catch up with you all.
Have a wonderful weekend x
.....with a long and sharp beak design (see one image earlier) is that food has to be swallowed whole.
Interesting facts: The Great Blue Heron is the largest N.American heron.
Average size : L 46"(117cm) with a wingspan of 72"(183 cm.).
Herons have been known to choke on prey that is too large.- Wikipedia encyclopedia
Looking @ the eye, I think this Hare is blind or sight seriously affected. Sitting near the road in sunshine but made no movement when I stopped near by
One more doodle before I went to bed. I always have problems drawing hair, can't stop adding lines to it. I'm trying to remember; simple, clean lines are better. I'm pretty pleased with this drawing tonight, maybe I'll get where I need to be before the 365 days are up???
* Drawing Music - American Beauty soundtrack.
* lg- farm2.static.flickr.com/1259/1466285066_48dbc75d53_o.jpg
The problem with BW, for me, is always what should the final product look like?
I think "Lee Friedlander" is always a good answer :-)
A really tough course, very hilly. It was really difficult for me, specially going downhill (my left knee was giving me problems), but I did it. The weather was very nice! It took me 3 hours 22 minutes and 30 plus seconds to cross the finish line. I brought with me a little camera to document some of the scenery.
Participé en una media maratón (21 km) que se hizo en un parque que se llama Quicksilver. El recorrido fue muy duro: muchas colinas, con subidas bravas y bajadas empinadas. Mi rodilla izquierda sufrió mucho en las bajadas, pero lo hice!! El tiempo estuvo espectacular. Me llevó 3 horas 22 minutos y más de 30 seg cruzar la meta. Llevé una cámara chiquita para poder documentar parte del recorrido y el paisaje.
Parece que los problemas que tuvo la 289.101 después de pasar la "R" se reproducen en su compañera de serie, la 289.102, que aquí vemos entrando en la estación de Casetas. Y es que justo después de estacionarse y hacer el relevo de maquinistas la locomotora dijo que no andaba más. Tras media hora subiendo y bajando pantógrafos consiguió por fin arrancar. Aunque tampoco fue muy lejos, en Miranda fue directa a talleres.
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