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Le train de nuit le plus cher d'Europe a traversé la Belgique aujourd'hui, il est en provenance d'Amsterdam (NL) et se dirige vers Venise (IT).
La HLE 1860 apte pour la France s'occupera d'amener le train jusqu'à Aulnoye-Aymeries ou un changement de locomotives sera fait.
📌: Braine-le-Comte L.96
🚂: HLE 1860
📆: [13002] Schaerbeek -> Aulnoye-Aymeries (F)
Statue funéraire en calcaire polychrome provenant d'Egype réalisée vers 2350 avant J-C, photographiée en 2013 dans la Galerie du Temps du Louvre-Lens (France).
En provenance de l'Italie et du Valais, la rame "Rheingold" avec la BR 101 001, qui a pris le relais d'une Re 6-6 en gare de Bâle, en tête se dirige vers le nord de l' Allemagne. .
avec ses deux colonnes provenant du forum
L´église de Saint Donat est un bâtiment rond énorme qui date du IXème siècle, construit en style pré romain, c´est le plus grand édifice de cette époque que l´on trouve dans toute la Dalmatie. Il a une rotonde avec un dôme massif, et se trouve juste à coté du forum romain de la ville. C´est impressionnant de voir la robustesse de l´église, toujours debout malgré les guerres, les invasions …
C´est l´un des meilleurs exemples d´architecture byzantine de la région. Au début, elle s´appelait l´église de la Sainte Trinité, mais son nom a été changé en honneur de l´archevêque de la ville de Zadar, Donat. Donat était l´ambassadeur de Charlemagne pour la région. Son corps était enterré en dessous de l´église, mais les français l´ont déplacé au XIXème siècle, quand ils occupèrent la ville.
L´église a été construite sur des parties du forum romain et intègre ces parties à sa structure. Deux piliers utilisés pour la construire et plusieurs blocs de pierre proviennent directement du forum.
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**** This frame was chosen on Saturday 26th June 2021 to appear on FLICKR EXPLORE (Highest Ranking: #325. This is my 203rd photograph to be selected.
I am really thrilled to have a frame picked and most grateful to every one of the 39.330+ Million people who have visited, favorited and commented on this and all of my other photographs here on my FLICKR site. *****
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So, let's get one thing straight from the outset.
I LOVE CARRION CROW.
There, I've said it. Words I use to describe these amazing birds would include stunning, beautiful, bold, magnificent, intelligent and fantastic, loving, tender, victimized.
Right now I have a resident pair of Carrion crows who have decided that my garden is theirs, and are playing a game of cat and mouse with a pair of cheeky Magpies (Pica pica) for dominance and food rights. The male crow actually flies in and 'wings' the magpies to make them leave, an incredible sight to witness. It's an honour and a privilege to be able to win their trust and they have given me so much pleasure this year being able to get within a few feet of them, to photograph and feed them, and they have reinforced my already deep admiration for a bird that is brimming with beauty, intelligence, confidence and also surrounded by myths, legend and prejudice.
So let's begin with a look back over history.
LEGEND AND MYTHOLOGY
Crows appear in the Bible where Noah uses one to search for dry land and to check on the recession of the flood. Crows supposedly saved the prophet, Elijah, from famine and are an Inuit deity. Legend has it that England and its monarchy will end when there are no more crows in the Tower of London. And some believe that the crows went to the Tower attracted by the regular corpses following executions with written accounts of their presence at the executions of Anne Boleyn and Jane Gray.
In Welsh mythology, unfortunately Crows are seen as symbolic of evilness and black magic thanks to many references to witches transforming into crows or ravens and escaping. Indian legend tells of Kakabhusandi, a crow who sits on the branches of a wish-fulfilling tree called Kalpataru and a crow in Ramayana where Lord Rama blessed the crow with the power to foresee future events and communicate with the souls.
In Native American first nation legend the crow is sometimes considered to be something of a trickster, though they are also viewed positively by some tribes as messengers between this world and the next where they carry messages from the living to those deceased, and even carry healing medicines between both worlds. There is a belief that crows can foresee the future. The Klamath tribe in Oregon believe that when we die, we fly up to heaven as a crow. The Crow can also signify wisdom to some tribes who believe crows had the power to talk and were therefore considered to be one of the wisest of birds. Tribes with Crow Clans include the Chippewa (whose Crow Clan and its totem are called Aandeg), the Hopi (whose Crow Clan is called Angwusngyam or Ungwish-wungwa), the Menominee, the Caddo, the Tlingit, and the Pueblo tribes of New Mexico.
The crow features in the Nanissáanah (Ghost dance), popularized by Jerome Crow Dog, a Brulé Lakota sub-chief and warrior born at Horse Stealing Creek in Montana Territory in 1833, the crow symbolizing wisdom and the past, when the crow had became a guide and acted as a pathfinder during hunting. The Ghost dance movement was originally created in 1870 by Wodziwob, or Gray Hair, a prophet and medicine man of the Paiute tribe in an area that became known as Nevada. Ghost dancers wore crow and eagle feathers in their clothes and hair, and the fact that the Crow could talk placed it as one of the sages of the animal kingdom. The five day dances seeking trance,prophecy and exhortations would eventually play a major part in the pathway towards the white man's broken treaties, the infamous battle at Wounded knee and the surrender of Matȟó Wanáȟtaka (Kicking Bear), after officials began to fear the ghost dancers and rituals which seemed to occur prior to battle.
Historically the Vikings are the group who made so many references to the crow, and Ragnarr Loðbrók and his sons used this species in his banner as well as appearances in many flags and coats of arms. Also, it had some kind of association with Odin, one of their main deities. Norse legend tells us that Odin is accompanied by two crows. Hugin, who symbolizes thought, and Munin, who represents a memory. These two crows were sent out each dawn to fly the entire world, returning at breakfast where they informed the Lord of the Nordic gods of everything that went on in their kingdoms. Odin was also referred to as Rafnagud (raven-god). The raven appears in almost every skaldic poem describing warfare.Coins dating back to 940's minted by Olaf Cuaran depict the Viking war standard, the Raven and Viking war banners (Gonfalon) depicted the bird also.
In Scandinavian legends, crows are a representative of the Goddess of Death, known as Valkyrie (from old Norse 'Valkyrja'), one of the group of maidens who served the Norse deity Odin, visiting battlefields and sending him the souls of the slain worthy of a place in Valhalla. Odin ( also called Wodan, Woden, or Wotan), preferred that heroes be killed in battle and that the most valiant of souls be taken to Valhöll, the hall of slain warriors. It is the crow that provides the Valkyries with important information on who should go. In Hindu ceremonies that are associated to ancestors, the crow has an important place in Vedic rituals. They are seen as messengers of death in Indian culture too.
In Germanic legend, Crows are seen as psychonomes, meaning the act of guiding spirits to their final destination, and that the feathers of a crow could cure a victim who had been cursed. And yet, a lone black crow could symbolize impending death, whilst a group symbolizes a lucky omen! Vikings also saw good omens in the crow and would leave offerings of meat as a token.
The crow also has sacred and prophetic meaning within the Celtic civilization, where it stood for flesh ripped off due to combat and Morrighan, the warrior goddess, often appears in Celtic mythology as a raven or crow, or else is found to be in the company of the birds. Crow is sacred to Lugdnum, the Celtic god of creation who gave his name to the city of Lug
In Greek mythology according to Appolodorus, Apollo is supposedly responsible for the black feathers of the crow, turning them forever black from their pristine white original plumage as a punishment after they brought news that Κορωνις (Coronis) a princess of the Thessalian kingdom of Phlegyantis, Apollo's pregnant lover had left him to marry a mortal, Ischys. In one legend, Apollo burned the crows feathers and then burned Coronis to death, in another Coronis herself was turned into a black crow, and another that she was slain by the arrows of Αρτεμις (Artemis - twin to Apollo). Koronis was later set amongst the stars as the constellation Corvus ("the Crow"). Her name means "Curved One" from the Greek word korônis or "Crow" from the word korônê.A similar Muslim legend allegedly tells of Muhammad, founder of Islam and the last prophet sent by God to Earth, who's secret location was given away by a white crow to his seekers, as he hid in caves. The crow shouted 'Ghar Ghar' (Cave, cave) and thus as punishment, Muhammad turned the crow black and cursed it for eternity to utter only one phrase, 'Ghar, ghar). Native Indian legend where the once rainbow coloured crows became forever black after shedding their colourful plumage over the other animals of the world.
In China the Crow is represented in art as a three legged bird on a solar disk, being a creature that helps the sun in its journey. In Japan there are myths of Crow Tengu who were priests who became vain, and turned into this spirit to serve as messengers until they learn the lesson of humility as well as a great Crow who takes part in Shinto creation stories.
In animal spirit guides there are general perceptions of what sightings of numbers of crows actually mean:
1 Crow Meaning: To carry a message from your near one who died recently.
2 Crows Meaning: Two crows sitting near your home signifies some good news is on your way.
3 Crows Meaning: An upcoming wedding in your family.
4 Crows Meaning: Symbolizes wealth and prosperity.
5 Crows Meaning: Diseases or pain.
6 Crows Meaning: A theft in your house!
7 Crows Meaning: Denotes travel or moving from your house.
8 Crows Meaning: Sorrowful events
Crows are generally seen as the symbolism when alive for doom bringing, misfortune and bad omens, and yet a dead crow symbolises potentially bringing good news and positive change to those who see it. This wonderful bird certainly gets a mixed bag of contradictory mythology and legend over the centuries and in modern days is often seen as a bit of a nuisance, attacking and killing the babies of other birds such as Starlings, Pigeons and House Sparrows as well as plucking the eyes out of lambs in the field, being loud and noisy and violently attacking poor victims in a 'crow court'....
There is even a classic horror film called 'THE CROW' released in 1994 by Miramax Films, directed by Alex Proyas and starring Brandon Lee in his final film appearance as Eric Draven, who is revived by a Crow tapping on his gravestone a year after he and his fiancée are murdered in Detroit by a street gang. The crow becomes his guide as he sets out to avenge the murders. The only son of martial arts expert Bruce Lee, Brandon lee suffered fatal injuries on the set of the film when the crew failed to remove the primer from a cartridge that hit Lee in the abdomen with the same force as a normal bullet. Lee died that day, March 31st 1993 aged 28.
The symbolism of the Crow resurrecting the dead star and accompanying him on his quest for revenge was powerful, and in some part based on the history of the carrion crow itself and the original film grossed more than $94 Million dollars with three subsequent sequels following.
TAKING A CLOSER LOOK
So let's move away from legend, mythology and stories passed down from our parents and grandparents and look at these amazing birds in isolation.
Carrion crow are passerines in the family Corvidae a group of Oscine passerine birds including Crows, Ravens, Rooks, Jackdaws, Jays, Magpies, Treepies, Choughs and Nutcrackers. Technically they are classed as Corvids, and the largest of passerine birds. Carrion crows are medium to large in size with rictal bristles and a single moult per year (most passerines moult twice). Carrion crow was one of the many species originally described by Swedish naturalist Carl Linnaeus (Carl Von Linne after his ennoblement) in his 1758 and 1759 editions of 'SYSTEMA NATURAE', and it still bears its original name of Corvus corone, derived from the Latin of Corvus, meaning Raven and the Greek κορώνη (korōnē), meaning crow.
Carrion crow are of the Animalia kingdom Phylum: Chordata Class: Aves Order: Passeriformes Family: Corvidae Genus: Corvus and Species: Corvus corone
Corvus corone can reach 45-47cm in length with a 93-104cm wingspan and weigh between 370-650g. They are protected under The Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981 in the United Kingdom with a Green UK conservation status which means they are of least concern with more than 1,000,000 territories. Breeding occurs in April with fledging of the chicks taking around twenty nine days following an incubation period of around twenty days with 3 to 4 eggs being the average norm. They are abundant in the UK apart from Northwest Scotland and Ireland where the Hooded crow (Corvus cornix) was considered the same species until 2002. They have a lifespan of around four years, whilst Crow species can live to the age of Twenty years old, and the oldest known American crow in the wild was almost Thirty years old. The oldest documented captive crow died at age Fifty nine. They are smaller and have a shorter lifespan than the Raven, which again is used as a symbol in history to live life to the full and not waste a moment!
They are often mistaken for the Rook (Corvus frugilegus), a similar bird, though in the UK, the Rook is actually technically smaller than the Carrion crow averaging 44-46cm in length, 81-99cm wingspan and weighing up to 340g. Rooks have white beaks compared to the black beaks of Carrion crow. There are documented cases in the UK of singular and grouped Rooks attacking and killing Carrion crows in their territory. Rooks nest in colonies unlike Carrion crows. Carrion crows have only a few natural enemies including powerful raptors such as the northern goshawk, the peregrine falcon, the Eurasian eagle-owl and the golden eagle which will all readily hunt them.
Regarded as one of the most intelligent birds, indeed creatures on the planet, studies suggest that Corvids cognitive abilities can rival that of primates such as chimpanzees and gorillas and even provide clues to understanding human intelligence. Crows have relatively large brains for their body size, compared to other animals. Their encephalization quotient (EQ) a ratio of brain to body size, adjusted for size because there isn’t a linear relationship is 4.1. That is remarkably close to chimps at 4.2 whilst humans are 8.1. Corvids also have a very high neuronal density, the number of neurons per gram of brain, factoring in the number of cortical neurons, neuron packing density, interneuronal distance and axonal conduction velocity shows that Corvids score high on this measure as well, with humans scoring the highest.
A corvid's pallium is packed with more neurons than a great ape's. Corvids have demonstrated the ability to use a combination of mental tools such as imagination, and anticipation of future events. They can craft tools from twigs and branches to hook grubs from deep recesses, they can solve puzzles and intricate methods of gaining access to food set by humans., and have even bent pieces of wire into hooks to obtain food. They have been proven to have a higher cognitive ability level than seven year old humans. Communications wise, their repertoire of wraw-wraw's is not fully understood, but the intensity, rhythm, and duration of caws seems to form the basis of a possible language. They also remember the faces of humans who have hindered or hurt them and pass that information on to their offspring.
Aesop's fable of 'The Crow and the Pitcher, tells of a thirsty crow which drops stones into a water pitcher to raise the water level and enable it to take a drink. Scientists have conducted tests to see whether crows really are this intelligent. They placed floating treats in a deep tube and observed the crows indeed dropping dense objects carefully selected into the water until the treat floated within reach. They had the intelligence to pick up, weigh and discount objects that would float in the water, they also did not select ones that were too large for the container.
Pet crows develop a unique call for their owners, in effect actually naming them. They also know to sunbathe for a dose of vitamin D, regularly settling on wooden garden fences, opening their mouths and wings and raising their heads to the sun. In groups they warn of danger and communicate vocally. They store a cache of food for later if in abundance and are clever enough to move it if they feel it has been discovered. They leave markers for their cache. They have even learned to place walnuts and similar hard food items under car tyres at traffic lights as a means of cracking them!
Crows regularly gather around a dead fellow corvid, almost like a funeral, and it is thought they somehow learn from each death. They can even remember human faces for decades.
Crows group together to attack larger predators and even steal their food, and they have different dialects in different areas, with the ability to mimic the dialect of the alpha males when they enter their territory!
They have a twenty year life span, the oldest on record reaching the age of Fifty nine. Crows can leave gifts for those who feed them such as buttons or bright shiny objects as a thank you, and they even kiss and make up after an argument, having mated for life.
In mythology they are associated with good and bad luck, being the bringers of omens and even witchcraft and are generally reviled for their attacks on baby birds and small mammals. They have an attack method of to stunning smaller birds before consuming them, tearing violently at smaller, less aggressive birds, which is simply down to the fact that they are so highly intelligent, and also the top of the food chain. Their diet includes over a thousand different items: Dead animals (as their name suggests), invertebrates, grain, as well as stealing eggs and chicks from other birds' nests, worms, insects, fruit, seeds, kitchen scraps. They are highly adaptable when food sources grow scarce. I absolutely love them, they are magnificent, bold, beautiful and incredibly interesting to watch and though at times it is hard to witness attacks made by them, I cannot help but adore them for so many other and more important reasons.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE PAIR IN MY GARDEN
Crows have been in the area for a while, but rarely had strayed into my garden, leaving the Magpies to own the territory. Things changed towards the end of May when a beautiful female Carrion crow appeared and began to take some of the food that I put down for the other birds. Within a few days she began to appear regularly, on occasions stocking up on food, whilst other times placing pieces in the birdbath to soften them.
She would stand on the birdbath and eat and drink and come back over the course of the day to eat the softened food.
Shortly afterwards she brought along her mate, a tall and handsome fella, much larger than her who was also very vocal if he felt she was getting a little too close to me. By now I had moved from a seated position from the patio as an observer, to laying on a mat just five feet from the birdbath with my Nikon so that I could photograph the pair as they landed, scavenged and fed. She was now confident enough to let me be very close, and she even tolerated and recognized the clicking of the camera. At first I used silent mode to reduce the noise but this only allowed two shooting frame rates of single frame or continuous low frame which meant I was missing shots. I reverted back to normal continuous high frames and she soon got used to the whirring of the frames as the mirror slapped back and forth.
The big fella would bark orders at her from the safety of the fence or the rear of the garden, whilst she rarely made a sound. That was until one day when in the sweltering heat she kept opening her beak and sunning on the grass, panting slightly in the heat. I placed the circular water sprayer nearby and had it rotating so that the birdbath and grass was bathed in gentle water droplets and she soon came back, landed and seemed to really like the cooling effect on offer. She then climbed onto the birdbath and opened her wings slightly and made some gentle purring, cooing noises....
I swear she was expressing happiness, joy....
On another blisteringly hot day when the sprayer was on, she came down, walked towards it and opened her wings up running into the water spray. Not once, but many times.
A final observation came with the male and female on the rear garden fence. They sat together, locked beaks like a kiss and then the male took his time gently preening her head feathers and the back of her neck as she made tiny happy sounds. They stayed together like that for several minutes, showing a gentle, softer side to their nature and demonstrating the deep bond between them.
Corvus Corone.... magnificently misunderstood by some!
Paul Williams June 4th 2021
©All photographs on this site are copyright: ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams) 2011 – 2021 & GETTY IMAGES ®
No license is given nor granted in respect of the use of any copyrighted material on this site other than with the express written agreement of ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams). No image may be used as source material for paintings, drawings, sculptures, or any other art form without permission and/or compensation to ©DESPITE STRAIGHT LINES (Paul Williams)
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Photograph taken at an altitude of Sixty three metres at 11:05am on a beautiful morning on Saturday 29th May 2021, off Hythe Avenue and Chessington Avenue in Bexleyheath, Kent.
Here we see a large adult female Carrion crow (Corvus corone) patrolling a garden and gathering up food scraps in front of a red Azalea, a passerine bird of the family Corvidae and the genus Raven (Higher classification: Corvus), which is native to western Europe and eastern Asia.
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Nikon D850 Focal length 600mm Shutter speed: 1/800s Aperture f/6.3 iso400 Tripod mounted with Gimbal head. Image area FX (36 x 24) NEF RAW L (4128 x 2752). JPeg basic (14 bit uncompressed) AF-C Priority Selection: Release. Nikon Back button focusing enabled. AF-S Priority selection: Focus. 3D Tracking watch area: Normal 55 Tracking points Exposure mode: Manual exposure mode Metering mode: Matrix metering White balance on: Auto1 (4550K) Colour space: RGB Picture control: Neutral (Sharpening +2)
Sigma 60-600mm f/4.5-6.3DG OS HSM SPORTS. Lee SW150 MKI filter holder with MK2 light shield and custom made velcro fitting for the Sigma lens. Lee SW150 circular polariser glass filter.Lee SW150 Filters field pouch.Hoodman HEYENRG round eyepiece oversized eyecup.Manfrotto MT057C3-G Carbon fiber Geared tripod 3 sections. Neewer Carbon Fiber Gimble tripod head 10088736 with Arca Swiss standard quick release plate. Neewer 9996 Arca Swiss release plate P860 x2.Jessops Tripod bag. Mcoplus professional MB-D850 multi function battery grip 6960.Two Nikon EN-EL15a batteries (Priority to battery in Battery grip). Black Rapid Curve Breathe strap. My Memory 128GB Class 10 SDXC 80MB/s card. Lowepro Flipside 400 AW camera bag.
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LATITUDE: N 51d 28m 28.23s
LONGITUDE: E 0d 8m 10.45s
ALTITUDE: 63.0m
RAW (TIFF) FILE: 130.00MB NEF FILE: 91.2MB
PROCESSED (JPeg) FILE: 38.40MB
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PROCESSING POWER:
Nikon D850 Firmware versions C 1.10 (9/05/2019) LD Distortion Data 2.018 (18/02/20) LF 1.00
HP 110-352na Desktop PC with AMD Quad-Core A6-5200 APU 64Bit processor. Radeon HD8400 graphics. 8 GB DDR3 Memory with 1TB Data storage. 64-bit Windows 10. Verbatim USB 2.0 1TB desktop hard drive. WD My Passport Ultra 1tb USB3 Portable hard drive. Nikon ViewNX-1 64bit Version 1.4.1 (18/02/2020). Nikon Capture NX-D 64bit Version 1.6.2 (18/02/2020). Nikon Picture Control Utility 2 (Version 2.4.5 (18/02/2020). Nikon Transfer 2 Version 2.13.5. Adobe photoshop Elements 8 Version 8.0 64bit.
En provenance de St Germain des fossés,un train composé d'une tranche de wagons remplis de Fledspath extraits à Lavaufrance pour Modène(Italie),et une tranche de citernes des usines Adisséo de Commentry,se rends au triage Lyonnais de Sibelin.
En provenance de Modène(Italie),et en passant par Modane,le train de Feldspath(minerai),retourne à Lavaufranche.Un relais machine à Sibelin dans la banlieue sud de Lyon,permettra de remplacer la BB36300 par un diesel BB75400.Ce dernier,terminera le trajet avec la rame pour Lavaufranche(Creuse),afin de refaire le plein de minerais,directement à la carrière d'extraction.
A noter,qu'en 2016,la rame était constituée de wagons non fermés,sur lesquels sont apposés des autocollants spécifiques à cette relation.
I suspect this will offend someone or another but, I’m sorry, when something looks like a bug, to me, it’s a bug and not even an attractive looking bug in my opinion (although off-hand I can't think of any insect that I have found “attractive”)………..
So if your house is infected with the Stout Scarab bug, you need SLUG-a-BUG. It’s proven safe (or reasonably safe) for children, pets and even mother-in-laws (although the latter may not be what you’re looking for ). As far as I know the Stout Scarab bug is not particularly harmful, but it is distressful to look at and just think how you would feel having special guests over, relaxing in your living room as you are in the process of serving aperitifs’ when to your horror, a Stout Scarab crawls (or rolls) across your floor. How embarrassing! Your husband jumps to his feet and hollers, “Slug-a-Bug! Not a pleasant thing especially with your husband’s boss and his wife in the room…….
The low down on a Stout Scarab ---------------- (my inserts in italics))
When the Stout Scarab was introduced, there was nothing on the road quite like it. (I can understand that! ) Outside, it looked more like it was built by an airplane designer (or a Russian construction worker ) than by an automaker. In-fact, it was. (was what?) William B. Stout served as chief engineer of Packard's aircraft division during World War I. After the War, (suffering from acute “shell shock”) he designed a high-winged monoplane without the struts and wires that characterized earlier aircraft. Still later, his design for a three-engine commercial aircraft served as the inspiration for the successful Ford Tri-Motor. (thank God the Ford Tri-Motor didn’t look like this!
Not only did it have a unit construction body made out of light aluminum beer cans, it featured the famous 90 horsepower Ford flathead V8 engine placed at its exterior driving the rear wheels via a Stout-built three-speed manual transaxle. It has a 135-inch length (we not talking about a little ant here folks)!, 4-wheel independent coil spring suspension, and the most spacious (stomach) of any American car as the result of no running boards and no drive shaft tube. This $5,000 aerodynamically vehicle insect was well ahead of its time.
The Stout Scarab was an aerodynamic masterpiece (that’s a matter of opinion) that featured a rear-engine layout, flow through ventilation, concealed running boards, and modular seating. This particular example is the second Scarab created (captured).
The Scarabs were produced in very limited numbers, (I can understand why) with only nine examples created. Part of their rarity was due to their $5,000 price tag (per bug), an incredibly steep price in the post-Great Depression era, (not to mention the production of Slug-a-Bug) However, Scarabs did find homes with (in) some of America's industrial giants. Scout Scarabs resided in the garages (and their kitchens and living rooms) of the Wrigleys (chewing gum), the Dows (chemicals), the Strahanans (Champion Spark Plugs) and the Firestones. Mr. Stout was a close friend of these pioneers as well as Henry Ford.
Credits CONCEPTCARZ
(The) Appleman
So there ya have it folks……..like it or not………
Colonnes décorées de pampres provenant de l'ancienne église Notre-Dame-de-la-Dorade réalisées vers 500 après J-C, photographiée en 2013 dans la Galerie du Temps du Louvre-Lens (France).
En provenance de Banff et de Lake Louise, le train 609 du Rocky Mountaineer arrivera dans une vingtaine de minutes en gare de Vancouver, après une longue croisière de luxe à travers les montagnes Rocheuses.
Coming from Banff and Lake Louise, Rocky Mountaineer train 609 will arrive in Vancouver station in about twenty minutes, after a long luxury cruise through the Rocky Mountains.
Su nombre puede provenir de la palabra en mapudungun külon, que es el nombre que recibe el arbusto llamado maqui en español. Otra posibilidad es que proceda de alguna palabra relacionada con kellun, «ayudar» y así, en muchas obras que recogen etimologías de topónimos chilenos, se indica que la traducción de Quellón sería «lugar de auxilio».
La zona estuvo habitada por indígenas chonos y posteriormente por payos. A fines de la época colonial, se entregaron títulos realengos a varios caciques huilliches que habitaban la zona. A fines del siglo XIX existía solamente el caseríos conocido posteriormente como Quellón Viejo.
Here it's proven yet again that Mr. Pink's criminal associates are extremely loyal to him and will do everything to keep him in power...
Rockstar pulls his punches and reluctantly fights (Ben's ex-wife) Madam Havoc but eventually manages to defeat her.
Fearing what would happen to her daughter Nina, she tells Rockstar to find Mr. Pink in Asia Town...
Rockstar tells Madam Havoc that it pains him to do this as he cuffs her to a signpost but he promises her that one way or another he will set things right and restore everything how it was.
Madam Havoc screams at him that she will get her revenge...
Rockstar is hurt by these words even though she isn't the friend he remembers from his own reality but he also knows that this version is a criminal and has to be brought to justice.
He leaves her and heads to the underground subway station...
Churlish Stories for Curious Children
An American in Gladstone
“Innocence abroad “
Acte 1
I stopped in my tracks…not believing my ears as they picked up on a conversation a couple was having at a nearby table.
I asked myself…
“Americans, here, at Gladstone?”
^^^^^^^^^^
Gladstone's Library was having its annual New Year’s Eve affair at a nearby venue.
I made it a habit to attend, for the library is a most interesting place for a visit and the annual affair has proven to be a viable source for me to ply my trade as it attracts the wealthier patrons amongst its guestbook, priggish ones who don’t mind showing off the bling.
So at this year's affair, I was dressed in nearly my best(a tight dress of green silk ) with my only jewellery being a gold pin on one shoulder shaped like a fox’s head with diamonds for eyes. It’s my good luck piece.
I was busy prowling the venue when I overheard the American couple speaking while sitting at the table I was passing.
Now on this island I call home, we have many dialects of our language. So one would think that a foreign dialect would not be too noticeable.
Professor Higgins may agree with that, or not. He definitely would be game in having an argument one way or another.
But there is one dialect that I find terribly interesting, especially how it stands out when heard in passing. And that is a Yanks’ accent from across the pond.
Heard so infrequently by me that it always makes me stop in my tracks to listen.
Which is what was happening now.
For this couple at the table I was passing were decidedly Americans. Chattering happily amongst themselves, unawares probably of how their words sounded upon our ears. Or at least my Welsh-born ones.
The dark-haired male with a mustache was wearing a black suit, no vest, blue silk shirt, and tie. He wore a fancy silver watch with a black face on his left wrist.
If it were not for the accent I would say he looked German.
The fair-haired lady he was with, his wife, was dressed in a pretty dress, deep blue like her husband's shirt, with silver Jewelry, a necklace, earrings, and a shiny bracelet.
Neither appeared wealthy, their bling was of an ordinary type, nice, but not expensive or presumptuous.
I listened for a bit to their absorbing talk. Catching their first names, or his anyways (George), for she was just being called honey. Of course, her name could be Honey, like Ian Flemings's Honeychile Rider, right?
I liked that thought and felt happy that I had happened across them. But then left before I was noticed.
For I have bigger fish to fry this evening.
And those fish, once found, would be wearing presumptuous jewels, the expensively presumptuous type.
It did not take long to find one. At these events it never does.
So soon I was instinctively following behind a most interesting prospect(s)
A happy family it was, a rather happily rich family.
As they got in line at the snack tables I stood off to one side and took a careful study.
Muscular Father was in a tux that looked a half size too small. He appeared to be a dominating specimen. But one could see in his eyes he was a pussycat. I would imagine the wealth of family was on his side, all of it inherited, passed down by at least 4 generations in my opinion.
The mum was very elegant in a long flowy white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of expensive pearls. A gold ring with a vulgarly large diamond on her pinkie finger denoted wealth. As did her demeanor. I pictured myself wearing that ring, and mulled over if I could skillfully lift it from her finger this night.
Now the third member was a younger version of the ring lady, who was standing next to her in the snack line. Her daughter no doubt, and She was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of diamonds, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, and a very pretty diamond bracelet, along with several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her cleavage. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
It was quite unusual to see a wealthy child wearing better sparklers than her mother, but I didn’t waste time on whys. Just concerned myself with what was.
I decided then and there that my next burglary would be the place mother and daughter kept those delicious jewels.
And I had several tried and true methods to find out just where those jewels would be spending the night. A couple of my favorites would involve me lifting a piece of one of the two ladies' jewels.
I flipped heads or tails in my mind. With the broach winning over the ring.
I then went into full stalk mode. Appearing to be enjoying the affair, but keeping an eye out of the corner on the daughter. For she was the now key to my whole plan.
During the next few hours, I did my due vigilance on the family. Looking for the telltale signs that either made them desirable marks or ones should I should leave alone
One of my first tests is to do a preliminary bump, with no lifting. That bit comes later.
I will actually brush up against my marks and gauge how they react as I please myself by coping with a feel.
I did this for both women as I caught them off alone. Not feeling up their pretty gowns but observing their reactions. Neither appeared guarded, purses not checked nervously, that sort of thing. Open and friendly to strangers they both were. Which meant they passed my first test.
Even the father was charming and accepted my apologies as gracious as his two ladies when I “tripped” up against him. (By the way. The bloke kept his wallet in his pants, just an observation)
Satisfied I had made the right choice I went into a deeper study, watching with interest how they were interacting with others and amongst themselves.
The band playing that evening was alternating between slow standards and a more lively fast pace that attracted the younger crowd. The lights were dimmed and a disco ball showered the floor with strobing light for the faster songs.
The parents were up for the slowest songs while the daughter watched the table with their drinks and purses.
The faster dances they switched places.
I also spied with my little eye that the daughter was dancing with her girlfriends. No males appeared on the scene. And her girlfriends after dancing always split up to be with their families.
I watched with increasing desire the daughter's jewels flickering on the dance floor. Especially the glimpses I caught of the enticing broach that was falling out with a sparkling voice, from its position just below her perky breasts. Which I noticed, the plumping, tight gown outlined, breasts that is, the rich girl just loved to press up against her dance partners.
I bided my time ( not easily) until very late in the evening. All three members of my targeted family were freely drinking. And becoming nicely inebriated as the evening wore on.
Soon the time was ripe for the plucking of a broach from a scintillatingly lovely brown satin gown.
The fast music started, the strobe light came on, and I went in and joined the swooningnly sweating throng.
I had started on the far side of the dance floor and began making my way toward my targeted female.
I had her in sight when I was pulled, literally, into a group of three, grabbed in passing by a young lady(Michelle) wearing yellow chiffon with ropes of real pearls. She held onto me as we danced to the fast beats of the bass-heavy music.
Then I was snatched away by a single male member of the group. The third is a young lady winningly wearing a black taffeta a-line gown with diamonds twinkling.
The male was a trashed, sweaty specimen with red hair wearing a tweed suit that was scratchy as he danced close to me. He was wearing a gold Rolex which caught my eye and then caught up in my fingers as I slipped it off his wrist.
I was also eying up the diamond-wearing blonde in black taffeta from over his shoulder as she danced with the girl who had snagged me into their group. I studied intensely her diamond jewellery dripping and swaying quite deliciously against her ultra-shiny black gown.
I maneuvered him over(Fred was his name) to the two girls and passed him off to yellow chiffon, while I embraced black satin, Cecelia was this wealthy pup's name.
She was very pretty, and like her companions, drunk as a skunk.
I told her how gorgeous she was while my hands held her close to me as my fingers caressed her sleek gown. My hands slipped up along her divine figure as we danced in motion to the fast tempo.
I ran my fingers up into her long silky blonde curls, lifting her hair, I had a clearer view of Cecelia’s lovely long diamond earrings that were just dangling there on sweaty earlobes, which made it child’s play to lift them and out as I raised her hair.
She smiled at my praise as I let her hair back down and I hugged her, wrapping my hands around her scintillating gowned waist, my clenched fists holding tightly onto her earrings as I pressed her hot fiery little figure against mine.
She hugged back and I turned her around and pushed her back in between her two companions.
Pocketing the shimmery earrings, I danced off, locating the daughter just as the song ended.
So I then waited until the second song was being played as the daughter was still up on the dance floor I maneuvered my way until I was directly behind her. She was dancing close to one of her friends, brushing against her then pulled back laughing. It was a routine I had been watching her do all evening and I was ready.
As she pulled back I bumped into her, my hands grasping onto her breasts, tightly outlined by the satin gown. Double pleasures there, for both of us I could tell.
I apologized in her ear, those earrings she wore dangling down delightfully, as my fingers also went down and swiftly located her broach. Then I lifted it, my fingers prying open the clasp and I pulled the flash jewel off as she was turning around.
“No worries luv…” she said as we danced together in rhythm to the music. I held my hands (still holding her broach) behind my back.
Then I’ll be damn if her girlfriend didn’t come up behind her and copy the same stunt as I had.
I left the happily groping group as soon as the daughter turned her back to me to face her friends.
Then I sat at my table, waited, and watched, with bated breath.
The daughter finally came back to the table and rejoined her parents. No one noticed anything was amiss.
Then after a long, very long, 15-minute break, the band started back up, playing slow dance music.
I watched the parents rise and head to the dance floor. Leaving the daughter quite alone, and susceptible.
“I’m on stage.”
I thought as I stood up and zoomed right up to the daughter like I had something important to say.
Which I did….
She looked up at me with doe-eyed wonder as I placed a hand on her softshoulder.
“Pardon me miss. Remember me. I bumped into you on the dance floor. Well, I had admired your broach earlier.
She looks down discovering it's gone, her eyes opening wide in shock. They looked up questioning into my face.
I love it when I can see a victim do that.
“It’s for that moment of dawning comprehension that is one of the little things in life I live for.”
I quickly explained:
“I saw one being turned into the security office upstairs by some Americans who found it. I thought it might be yours. That’s why I came over. “
Seeing her hesitation as she looked at her mother’s purse.
“I’ll watch over your table luv if you want to go see. I know I couldn’t wait if mine had been lost!”
I said this stroking the gold fox headpin I was wearing.
She fell for it, hook, line, and Broachless figure.
“Thank you .”
She worriedly lifted her gown and scurried off. I watched her leave… such a pretty dress she was wearing.
Now, The security room is actually located in the basement, so I bought myself some time.
I sit and casually begin to have a look through their purses.
From the daughter’s purse I pull out a card from her wallet that listed her address, along with a fancy key. Her wallet contained about £50, which I pulled out and pocketed.
Inside her mums' purse, I find a fatter wallet. £325 which I also pocketed. Also, a solid gold compact which I placed inside my purse. What I did not find was a hotel key. Which must mean they lived locally. Which could be either a good thing or a bad thing.
The father had his suit jacket on a chair. I went over and making sure no one was watching, riffled through his pockets. No wallet, which I knew, but I found something better.
Three hatcheck claim tickets. I quickly smelled them. One of them smelled very strongly of expensive perfume which I hoped meant they had been handled by one of the ladies as she turned in her wrap. I kept this one and stowed it away.
Then I rise and left, planning on beating them home to scout out the area. I didn’t need to count down the new year to know it was already starting out to be wickedly brilliant.
But on my way out, I see the American wife in the snack lime...
Decide to myself that I would like some American souvenirs from these “innocents Abroad.”
As I walk past her, I suddenly stop and go right up to her.
“E’llo you're an American, that’s lovely.”
As I say that I lift her hand, my other patting her bracelet-bearing wrist in greeting.
She stammers taken by surprise
“Yes, my name is Martha King. What is yours?”
Which is what I needed, surprise. I was wiping my hand along her wrist reaching her bracelet which I clasped my fingers around.
I gave her the made-up name I had been using this evening.
“ Cheers then, my name is Cadence, and it’s a pleasure meeting you. That’s quite a lovely dress your wearing. Did you buy it here?”
Rapid series of questions keeps the mark confused and distracted.
As she answered I thought Martha is it, not Honey. I eyeballed the rest of the jewellery she was wearing.
A silver-hinged locket with an M engraved upon it. Engraved around the ‘M’ was a floral vine, and below the ‘M’ was a flower made of ruby chips. The locket was oval-shaped on a link chain that hung just above her breasts. Her earrings were slightly smaller than the locket but had the same floral design and ruby flower, no letter M however.
I pried my eyes off her locket and looked into hers as she was answering my question.
“No, this dress is one I brought from home. I was worried it might not be fancy enough for here.
With my free hand, I stoked it along her dress as I sigh, my hands still holding her wrist up, covering her bracelet as my fingers snapped it open.
“I thought so, we don’t have dresses quite that lovely here.”
“But yours is…”
She started to say, then looked up
At that point, I see relief in her eyes as she stopped in mid-sentence, then said ..”
“Here comes my husband George. He is American also.”
As we both look behind me, I was busy taking advantage of the distraction, lifting off from her wrist the shiny silver bracelet. Pocketing it as the man came up to us.
I was introduced and saw he was an amiable sort of chap. As I like to imagine most Americans are, not that I’ve met more than a couple of others.
We talked for a few minutes as they told me where they were from, and about their kids. The usual.
But I needed to be on my way without appearing to be.
The band was still playing slow songs so I tried to break away by saying.
“I would imagine you two would like to get onto the dance floor? Please don’t let me hold you back…”
The wife apologized to me that she was a wee bit tired and wanted to sit.
Great I thought, then she added something that blindsided me.
As she looked at her husband standing there sheepishly…
“I know my husband would like to though, dance I mean. Maybe he would like to…honey ?”
I caught myself.
“You would not mind then if I steal him for a dance then luv?”
“Please do. My George is the dancer in the family. The poor dear wears me out.”
I heard a wholesome laugh from George.
“You two ladies do realize I’m right here listening? And yes I would consider it a privilege to have a dance with you, Cadence.”
He takes up my hand and we go to the crowded floor. The lights are still dim. But there is no strobe.
He takes me into his arms and I allow him to lead me to the music. We swirl around the other guests. I tell him a little about me, my twin brother, the small cottage we grew up in, and the nearby ancient university-owned cemetery we played in(though I did not go into the detail the games we played centered around pickpockets). He told me a bit about himself. Scouts, camping, decorating for Halloween. Also how Martha and he were here as an anniversary treat.
I find that George is a very pleasant dance partner So it was with a bit of guilt that as he was looking over towards Martha, I ran my hand caressing his wrist, then without remorse, I lifted off his fancy silver watch with the black face.
“Just couldn’t help myself, now could I?”
The song was ending and I was getting ready to release George back to his table when I spied the broachless Daughter walking along the outside of the dance floor.
Quickly I looked up into George’s face with a pleading look that he had no clue over why.”
“That was lovely. Can we do one more?”
George shook his head, yes and we held firm our position.
The music started again, and I pulled his arm around my waist making him hold me closer. Over his shoulder, I watched as the Daughter disappeared out of sight. She looked very perplexed, but not alarmed.
Sighing I placed my hands on his sides. I felt something hard in his side jacket pocket. Without thought, I reached inside and wrapped my fingers around a small, but heavy lighter. Without looking at it, I pulled it from his pocket and put it inside one of mine. I could feel George’s heart thumping, so I knew he was not finding it unpleasant to dance with me. My own was beating fast, over the daughter, and the recent lifts I had made off of George King.
As the last notes of the second song drifted away, we broke apart
I walk with George back to his waiting wife Martha at the table.
The wife smiles.
“Thought you were stealing him”
He chuckles.
“I convinced her not to.”
We all laugh.
They offered for me to sit and join them for a drink.
I lied.
“Love to, but I have to track down my errant niece.”
George pats me on the back saying lovely to have met you and thanks for the dance, then takes his leave to go get more drinks for his wife and himself.
Martha who had stood up as we came to the table, leans in and gives me a warm caring hug…
“I also think it was lovely meeting you tonight Cadence, you are a very nice young lady.”
Now I hadn't planned on taking her locket, but my thief instincts kick in and I found myself reaching up and undoing the clasp of the necklace and slipping it off her pretty neck before the end of the hug.
While slyly pocketing her pendant and chain, I replied:
“Why thank you, Martha, it was brilliant meeting you and George also, and luv, I hope you will enjoy the rest of your stay here.”
Then I take my leave.
“Indeed Charming to meet both of you.”
I leave her as she sits down to wait on George and their drinks.
I made a direct beeline to the coat check.
Quickly I thrust to the cloak check girl my slip. She comes back with a luxurious red sable jacket.
The cloak check girl complimented me:
“That’s pretty miss.”
“Indeed it is. “
I agree as I slip it on and leave Walking boldly past the lone guard at the security desk.
I make it to the exit without a backside glance. No one challenged me as I opened it and walked outside into the cool evening.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My breath sends up vapors in the cool night air. I wanted so very badly to lite a victory cigarette but was too far into my game to take the time just yet.
So I scurried off into the night, along the nearly deserted blocks, formulating the next steps in my plan.
To be continued …
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
En provenance de St Etienne et à destination du Puy,une UM3 de X73500 traverse la Loire à Lavoute sur Loire.Sous le viaduc,les restes d'un pont Romain,et le moulin en arrière plan.
Churlish Stories for Curious Children L
An American in Gladstone
“Innocence abroad “
Acte 1
I stopped in my tracks…not believing my ears as they picked up on a conversation a couple was having at a nearby table.
I asked myself…
“Americans, here, at Gladstone?”
^^^^^^^^^^
Gladstone's Library was having its annual New Year’s Eve affair at a nearby venue.
I made it a habit to attend, for the library is a most interesting place for a visit and the annual affair has proven to be a viable source for me to ply my trade as it attracts the wealthier patrons amongst its guestbook, priggish ones who don’t mind showing off the bling.
So at this year's affair, I was dressed in nearly my best(a tight dress of green silk ) with my only jewellery being a gold pin on one shoulder shaped like a fox’s head with diamonds for eyes. It’s my good luck piece.
I was busy prowling the venue when I overheard the American couple speaking while sitting at the table I was passing.
Now on this island I call home, we have many dialects of our language. So one would think that a foreign dialect would not be too noticeable.
Professor Higgins may agree with that, or not. He definitely would be game in having an argument one way or another.
But there is one dialect that I find terribly interesting, especially how it stands out when heard in passing. And that is a Yanks’ accent from across the pond.
Heard so infrequently by me that it always makes me stop in my tracks to listen.
Which is what was happening now.
For this couple at the table I was passing were decidedly Americans. Chattering happily amongst themselves, unawares probably of how their words sounded upon our ears. Or at least my Welsh-born ones.
The dark-haired male with a mustache was wearing a black suit, no vest, blue silk shirt, and tie. He wore a fancy silver watch with a black face on his left wrist.
If it were not for the accent I would say he looked German.
The fair-haired lady he was with, his wife, was dressed in a pretty dress, deep blue like her husband's shirt, with silver Jewelry, a necklace, earrings, and a shiny bracelet.
Neither appeared wealthy, their bling was of an ordinary type, nice, but not expensive or presumptuous.
I listened for a bit to their absorbing talk. Catching their first names, or his anyways (George), for she was just being called honey. Of course, her name could be Honey, like Ian Flemings's Honeychile Rider, right?
I liked that thought and felt happy that I had happened across them. But then left before I was noticed.
For I have bigger fish to fry this evening.
And those fish, once found, would be wearing presumptuous jewels, the expensively presumptuous type.
It did not take long to find one. At these events it never does.
So soon I was instinctively following behind a most interesting prospect(s)
A happy family it was, a rather happily rich family.
As they got in line at the snack tables I stood off to one side and took a careful study.
Muscular Father was in a tux that looked a half size too small. He appeared to be a dominating specimen. But one could see in his eyes he was a pussycat. I would imagine the wealth of family was on his side, all of it inherited, passed down by at least 4 generations in my opinion.
The mum was very elegant in a long flowy white silk dress with a red and green flowery print. She was wearing her gleaming set of expensive pearls. A gold ring with a vulgarly large diamond on her pinkie finger denoted wealth. As did her demeanor. I pictured myself wearing that ring, and mulled over if I could skillfully lift it from her finger this night.
Now the third member was a younger version of the ring lady, who was standing next to her in the snack line. Her daughter no doubt, and She was enticingly wearing a very sleek, slick brown satin fully off-shoulder number that nicely outlined her petite figure as it poured along it down to her silver high heels.
Her Jewels were a sparkling collection that consisted of a wide V-shaped necklace that looked like a falling river of diamonds, amazingly sparkling chandelier earnings, and a very pretty diamond bracelet, along with several enticing rings.
But the real showpiece was the eye-grabbing broach she had pinned to the gown just at her cleavage. It had a sparrow egg-sized diamond at its centre.
It was quite unusual to see a wealthy child wearing better sparklers than her mother, but I didn’t waste time on whys. Just concerned myself with what was.
I decided then and there that my next burglary would be the place mother and daughter kept those delicious jewels.
And I had several tried and true methods to find out just where those jewels would be spending the night. A couple of my favorites would involve me lifting a piece of one of the two ladies' jewels.
I flipped heads or tails in my mind. With the broach winning over the ring.
I then went into full stalk mode. Appearing to be enjoying the affair, but keeping an eye out of the corner on the daughter. For she was the now key to my whole plan.
During the next few hours, I did my due vigilance on the family. Looking for the telltale signs that either made them desirable marks or ones should I should leave alone
One of my first tests is to do a preliminary bump, with no lifting. That bit comes later.
I will actually brush up against my marks and gauge how they react as I please myself by coping with a feel.
I did this for both women as I caught them off alone. Not feeling up their pretty gowns but observing their reactions. Neither appeared guarded, purses not checked nervously, that sort of thing. Open and friendly to strangers they both were. Which meant they passed my first test.
Even the father was charming and accepted my apologies as gracious as his two ladies when I “tripped” up against him. (By the way. The bloke kept his wallet in his pants, just an observation)
Satisfied I had made the right choice I went into a deeper study, watching with interest how they were interacting with others and amongst themselves.
The band playing that evening was alternating between slow standards and a more lively fast pace that attracted the younger crowd. The lights were dimmed and a disco ball showered the floor with strobing light for the faster songs.
The parents were up for the slowest songs while the daughter watched the table with their drinks and purses.
The faster dances they switched places.
I also spied with my little eye that the daughter was dancing with her girlfriends. No males appeared on the scene. And her girlfriends after dancing always split up to be with their families.
I watched with increasing desire the daughter's jewels flickering on the dance floor. Especially the glimpses I caught of the enticing broach that was falling out with a sparkling voice, from its position just below her perky breasts. Which I noticed, the plumping, tight gown outlined, breasts that is, the rich girl just loved to press up against her dance partners.
I bided my time ( not easily) until very late in the evening. All three members of my targeted family were freely drinking. And becoming nicely inebriated as the evening wore on.
Soon the time was ripe for the plucking of a broach from a scintillatingly lovely brown satin gown.
The fast music started, the strobe light came on, and I went in and joined the swooningnly sweating throng.
I had started on the far side of the dance floor and began making my way toward my targeted female.
I had her in sight when I was pulled, literally, into a group of three, grabbed in passing by a young lady(Michelle) wearing yellow chiffon with ropes of real pearls. She held onto me as we danced to the fast beats of the bass-heavy music.
Then I was snatched away by a single male member of the group. The third is a young lady winningly wearing a black taffeta a-line gown with diamonds twinkling.
The male was a trashed, sweaty specimen with red hair wearing a tweed suit that was scratchy as he danced close to me. He was wearing a gold Rolex which caught my eye and then caught up in my fingers as I slipped it off his wrist.
I was also eying up the diamond-wearing blonde in black taffeta from over his shoulder as she danced with the girl who had snagged me into their group. I studied intensely her diamond jewellery dripping and swaying quite deliciously against her ultra-shiny black gown.
I maneuvered him over(Fred was his name) to the two girls and passed him off to yellow chiffon, while I embraced black satin, Cecelia was this wealthy pup's name.
She was very pretty, and like her companions, drunk as a skunk.
I told her how gorgeous she was while my hands held her close to me as my fingers caressed her sleek gown. My hands slipped up along her divine figure as we danced in motion to the fast tempo.
I ran my fingers up into her long silky blonde curls, lifting her hair, I had a clearer view of Cecelia’s lovely long diamond earrings that were just dangling there on sweaty earlobes, which made it child’s play to lift them and out as I raised her hair.
She smiled at my praise as I let her hair back down and I hugged her, wrapping my hands around her scintillating gowned waist, my clenched fists holding tightly onto her earrings as I pressed her hot fiery little figure against mine.
She hugged back and I turned her around and pushed her back in between her two companions.
Pocketing the shimmery earrings, I danced off, locating the daughter just as the song ended.
So I then waited until the second song was being played as the daughter was still up on the dance floor I maneuvered my way until I was directly behind her. She was dancing close to one of her friends, brushing against her then pulled back laughing. It was a routine I had been watching her do all evening and I was ready.
As she pulled back I bumped into her, my hands grasping onto her breasts, tightly outlined by the satin gown. Double pleasures there, for both of us I could tell.
I apologized in her ear, those earrings she wore dangling down delightfully, as my fingers also went down and swiftly located her broach. Then I lifted it, my fingers prying open the clasp and I pulled the flash jewel off as she was turning around.
“No worries luv…” she said as we danced together in rhythm to the music. I held my hands (still holding her broach) behind my back.
Then I’ll be damn if her girlfriend didn’t come up behind her and copy the same stunt as I had.
I left the happily groping group as soon as the daughter turned her back to me to face her friends.
Then I sat at my table, waited, and watched, with bated breath.
The daughter finally came back to the table and rejoined her parents. No one noticed anything was amiss.
Then after a long, very long, 15-minute break, the band started back up, playing slow dance music.
I watched the parents rise and head to the dance floor. Leaving the daughter quite alone, and susceptible.
“I’m on stage.”
I thought as I stood up and zoomed right up to the daughter like I had something important to say.
Which I did….
She looked up at me with doe-eyed wonder as I placed a hand on her softshoulder.
“Pardon me miss. Remember me. I bumped into you on the dance floor. Well, I had admired your broach earlier.
She looks down discovering it's gone, her eyes opening wide in shock. They looked up questioning into my face.
I love it when I can see a victim do that.
“It’s for that moment of dawning comprehension that is one of the little things in life I live for.”
I quickly explained:
“I saw one being turned into the security office upstairs by some Americans who found it. I thought it might be yours. That’s why I came over. “
Seeing her hesitation as she looked at her mother’s purse.
“I’ll watch over your table luv if you want to go see. I know I couldn’t wait if mine had been lost!”
I said this stroking the gold fox headpin I was wearing.
She fell for it, hook, line, and Broachless figure.
“Thank you .”
She worriedly lifted her gown and scurried off. I watched her leave… such a pretty dress she was wearing.
Now, The security room is actually located in the basement, so I bought myself some time.
I sit and casually begin to have a look through their purses.
From the daughter’s purse I pull out a card from her wallet that listed her address, along with a fancy key. Her wallet contained about £50, which I pulled out and pocketed.
Inside her mums' purse, I find a fatter wallet. £325 which I also pocketed. Also, a solid gold compact which I placed inside my purse. What I did not find was a hotel key. Which must mean they lived locally. Which could be either a good thing or a bad thing.
The father had his suit jacket on a chair. I went over and making sure no one was watching, riffled through his pockets. No wallet, which I knew, but I found something better.
Three hatcheck claim tickets. I quickly smelled them. One of them smelled very strongly of expensive perfume which I hoped meant they had been handled by one of the ladies as she turned in her wrap. I kept this one and stowed it away.
Then I rise and left, planning on beating them home to scout out the area. I didn’t need to count down the new year to know it was already starting out to be wickedly brilliant.
But on my way out, I see the American wife in the snack lime...
Decide to myself that I would like some American souvenirs from these “innocents Abroad.”
As I walk past her, I suddenly stop and go right up to her.
“E’llo you're an American, that’s lovely.”
As I say that I lift her hand, my other patting her bracelet-bearing wrist in greeting.
She stammers taken by surprise
“Yes, my name is Martha King. What is yours?”
Which is what I needed, surprise. I was wiping my hand along her wrist reaching her bracelet which I clasped my fingers around.
I gave her the made-up name I had been using this evening.
“ Cheers then, my name is Cadence, and it’s a pleasure meeting you. That’s quite a lovely dress your wearing. Did you buy it here?”
Rapid series of questions keeps the mark confused and distracted.
As she answered I thought Martha is it, not Honey. I eyeballed the rest of the jewellery she was wearing.
A silver-hinged locket with an M engraved upon it. Engraved around the ‘M’ was a floral vine, and below the ‘M’ was a flower made of ruby chips. The locket was oval-shaped on a link chain that hung just above her breasts. Her earrings were slightly smaller than the locket but had the same floral design and ruby flower, no letter M however.
I pried my eyes off her locket and looked into hers as she was answering my question.
“No, this dress is one I brought from home. I was worried it might not be fancy enough for here.
With my free hand, I stoked it along her dress as I sigh, my hands still holding her wrist up, covering her bracelet as my fingers snapped it open.
“I thought so, we don’t have dresses quite that lovely here.”
“But yours is…”
She started to say, then looked up
At that point, I see relief in her eyes as she stopped in mid-sentence, then said ..”
“Here comes my husband George. He is American also.”
As we both look behind me, I was busy taking advantage of the distraction, lifting off from her wrist the shiny silver bracelet. Pocketing it as the man came up to us.
I was introduced and saw he was an amiable sort of chap. As I like to imagine most Americans are, not that I’ve met more than a couple of others.
We talked for a few minutes as they told me where they were from, and about their kids. The usual.
But I needed to be on my way without appearing to be.
The band was still playing slow songs so I tried to break away by saying.
“I would imagine you two would like to get onto the dance floor? Please don’t let me hold you back…”
The wife apologized to me that she was a wee bit tired and wanted to sit.
Great I thought, then she added something that blindsided me.
As she looked at her husband standing there sheepishly…
“I know my husband would like to though, dance I mean. Maybe he would like to…honey ?”
I caught myself.
“You would not mind then if I steal him for a dance then luv?”
“Please do. My George is the dancer in the family. The poor dear wears me out.”
I heard a wholesome laugh from George.
“You two ladies do realize I’m right here listening? And yes I would consider it a privilege to have a dance with you, Cadence.”
He takes up my hand and we go to the crowded floor. The lights are still dim. But there is no strobe.
He takes me into his arms and I allow him to lead me to the music. We swirl around the other guests. I tell him a little about me, my twin brother, the small cottage we grew up in, and the nearby ancient university-owned cemetery we played in(though I did not go into the detail the games we played centered around pickpockets). He told me a bit about himself. Scouts, camping, decorating for Halloween. Also how Martha and he were here as an anniversary treat.
I find that George is a very pleasant dance partner So it was with a bit of guilt that as he was looking over towards Martha, I ran my hand caressing his wrist, then without remorse, I lifted off his fancy silver watch with the black face.
“Just couldn’t help myself, now could I?”
The song was ending and I was getting ready to release George back to his table when I spied the broachless Daughter walking along the outside of the dance floor.
Quickly I looked up into George’s face with a pleading look that he had no clue over why.”
“That was lovely. Can we do one more?”
George shook his head, yes and we held firm our position.
The music started again, and I pulled his arm around my waist making him hold me closer. Over his shoulder, I watched as the Daughter disappeared out of sight. She looked very perplexed, but not alarmed.
Sighing I placed my hands on his sides. I felt something hard in his side jacket pocket. Without thought, I reached inside and wrapped my fingers around a small, but heavy lighter. Without looking at it, I pulled it from his pocket and put it inside one of mine. I could feel George’s heart thumping, so I knew he was not finding it unpleasant to dance with me. My own was beating fast, over the daughter, and the recent lifts I had made off of George King.
As the last notes of the second song drifted away, we broke apart
I walk with George back to his waiting wife Martha at the table.
The wife smiles.
“Thought you were stealing him”
He chuckles.
“I convinced her not to.”
We all laugh.
They offered for me to sit and join them for a drink.
I lied.
“Love to, but I have to track down my errant niece.”
George pats me on the back saying lovely to have met you and thanks for the dance, then takes his leave to go get more drinks for his wife and himself.
Martha who had stood up as we came to the table, leans in and gives me a warm caring hug…
“I also think it was lovely meeting you tonight Cadence, you are a very nice young lady.”
Now I hadn't planned on taking her locket, but my thief instincts kick in and I found myself reaching up and undoing the clasp of the necklace and slipping it off her pretty neck before the end of the hug.
While slyly pocketing her pendant and chain, I replied:
“Why thank you, Martha, it was brilliant meeting you and George also, and luv, I hope you will enjoy the rest of your stay here.”
Then I take my leave.
“Indeed Charming to meet both of you.”
I leave her as she sits down to wait on George and their drinks.
I made a direct beeline to the coat check.
Quickly I thrust to the cloak check girl my slip. She comes back with a luxurious red sable jacket.
The cloak check girl complimented me:
“That’s pretty miss.”
“Indeed it is. “
I agree as I slip it on and leave Walking boldly past the lone guard at the security desk.
I make it to the exit without a backside glance. No one challenged me as I opened it and walked outside into the cool evening.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. My breath sends up vapors in the cool night air. I wanted so very badly to lite a victory cigarette but was too far into my game to take the time just yet.
So I scurried off into the night, along the nearly deserted blocks, formulating the next steps in my plan.
To be continued …
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
29.01.2024
Meymac
Hexafret 445104 Brive-la-Gaillarde > Ussel
Convoi transportant des véhicules du 5ème RD en provenance de Mailly-le-Camp via Châlons-en-Champagne, Villeneuve-St Georges, Vierzon et Brive-la-Gaillarde.
En provenance de Mantes-la-Jolie, la voiture Ultrasons V3 encadrée par la BB(6)64613 en tête et la BB(6)64622 en queue vient d'arriver sur la voie centrale d'Houilles-Carrières-sur-Seine avec +14. Il repartira à l'heure par la suite pour le triage d'Achères sous la marche 812263.
La voiture US V3 d'SNCF Infra sert à ausculter les rails grâce grâce à un chariot de détecteur d'ultrasons située sous la voiture. Ce chariot dépose de l'eau sur le rail, et avec les ultrasons ainsi que les résonances, on arrive à savoir si le rail est fragilisé intérieurement ou non.
Stagecoach in South Wales recently reduced the frequency of the Pontypool to Cardiff section of Service X3 (Hereford-Abergavenny-Pontypool-Cwmbran-Cardiff) from half hourly to hourly. This inevitably means that the Alexander Dennis Enviro300-bodied Scanias usually allocated are requiring duplication or substitution on busy Saturdays, particularly in the pre Christmas period. The capacity of the six Transbus ALX400-bodied Tridents transferred from the East Scotland fleet as replacements for the last Volvo B10Ms has proven ideal for this role.
This shot of 18008 was taken in Callaghan Square, Cardiff on the last Saturday before Christmas 2019, when she had been enlisted to operate the service on an all day diagram which would take her to both Hereford and Cardiff.
En provenance de Brockville, le train 586 est mené par la BCOL 4646 et passe à Beaurepaire, sur la double voie qui longe celle du CPKC.
Coming from Brockville, train 586 is led by BCOL 4646 and passes Beaurepaire, on the double track which runs alongside CPKC's tracks..
As proven by this rare photo, recently uncovered. I can't tell you exactly when it was taken, other than it was in with a bunch of other materials from the 1920's. I'm attempting to track down some more information about the time and location.
What I do know is that if this really is the same "Morgan," then it's impossible to say just how long she has been wandering the Earth, bellydancing for all who would watch.
Strobist info:
Two Vivitar 285HV's -- one left, one right, both bounced off of umbrellas and at 1/16th power (basically they are just providing fill to give that "flat" 1920's look, as the skywalk was fairly well lit).
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Well, gang... this is officially Explored shot number 75. Thanks for the views and comments, everyone!
L'abbaye de Fontfroide est nichée au fond d'un vallon, dans le massif des Corbières, près d'un torrent. C'est à cette source d'eau fraîche (fons frigida) qu'elle doit son nom. La pierre jaune parfois rosée de la construction associée l'environnement verdoyant et les jardins remarquables qui l'entourent font de ce lieu un havre d'un intérêt et d'une beauté exceptionnels.
Initialement bénédictine (1093), l'abbaye a intégré l'ordre cistercien entre 1144 et 1145. Sa restauration, depuis 1908 jusqu’à nos jours, a permis d'intégrer divers éléments décoratifs en réemploi, telles de splendides grilles de fer forgé provenant vraisemblablement du château des ducs de Montmorency à Pézenas.
L'abbaye de Fontfroide est actuellement un monument privé. On peut notamment y louer de superbes salles pour y organiser des manifestations diverses, des concerts, des séminaires ou des soirées.
provenance inconnue, Europe centrale, huile sur toile
Vierge dite de Nuremberg
à rapprocher de la Vierge enceinte de la Chapelle de Grâce (œuvre de 1700 d'auteur inconnu, même facture) dans la basilique St Matthias de Trèves
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Matthias%27_Abbey#/media/File:T...
Musée Joseph Denais, Beaufort en Vallée (Maine et Loire)
Anjou
dernier cabinet de curiosités du XIXe en France
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About The Milky Way:
The Milky Way is the galaxy that contains the Earth. This name derives from its appearance as a dim "milky" glowing band arching across the night sky, in which the naked eye cannot distinguish individual stars. The term "Milky Way" is a translation of the Classical Latin via lactea, from the Hellenistic Greek γαλαξίας κύκλος (pr. galaxías kýklos, "milky circle").
The Galaxy has this appearance because it is a disk-shaped structure that is being viewed from inside. Earth is located within the Galactic plane of this disk, around two thirds of the way out from the center, on the inner edge of a spiral-shaped concentration of gas and dust called the Orion–Cygnus Arm. The concept of this faint band of light being made up of stars was proven in 1610 when Galileo Galilei used his telescope to resolve it into individual stars. In the 1920s observations by astronomer Edwin Hubble showed that the Milky Way was just one of around 200 billion galaxies in the observable universe.
The Milky Way is a barred spiral galaxy 100,000–120,000 light-years in diameter containing 200–400 billion stars. It may contain at least as many planets, with 10 billion of those orbiting in the habitable zone of their parent stars.[14] The rotational rate of the Galaxy is once every 15 to 50 million years. The Galaxy as a whole is moving at a velocity of 552 to 630 km per second, depending on the relative frame of reference. It is estimated to be about 13.2 billion years old, nearly as old as the Universe. The Milky Way is part of the Local Group of galaxies, which forms a subcomponent of the Virgo Supercluster.
Interesting facts about Light Pollution:
Light pollution has caused one-fifth of the world's population – mostly in mainland Europe, Britain and the U.S. – to lose their ability to see the Milky Way in the night sky.
"The arc of the Milky Way seen from a truly dark location is part of our planet's natural heritage," said Connie Walker, and astronomer from the U.S. National Optical Astronomy Observatory in Tucson, Arizona.
Yet "more than one fifth of the world population, two thirds of the U.S. population and one half of the European Union population have already lost naked eye visibility of the Milky Way."
Star-free night
The phenomenon, caused by the reflection of manmade light by the Earth's atmosphere, impacts astronomical research and can even affect human health, warned Walker, who will present her research on Wednesday at a meeting of the American Astronomical Society in Pasadena, California.
The effects of light pollution on human health can be as mild as the disruption of the circadian rhythm leading to problems sleeping, but it can also be serious, she said.
One study of 147 Israeli communities, published in 2008 in the journal Chronobiology International, found some evidence for an increased risk of breast cancer for women living in areas with the most light pollution. This is thought to be due to unnatural light at night affecting levels of hormones such as melatonin and estrogen.
Light pollution comes in a variety of forms such as 'over illumination', 'light trespass' and 'sky glow' – the orange glow that hangs over cities and is produced by upwards directed light.
Walker's research has found that cities using light fixtures that direct just 3% of their light upwards can almost double the sky glow experienced by astronomical observatories 100 km away. "Allowing 10% direct uplight increases this figure to 570%," said Walker, who is chair of the U.S. Dark Skies Working Group, part of the Dark Skies Awareness program, a global citizen science effort to raise awareness of light pollution.
Nice example, sold new in Norwich so just a few miles from where I saw it and apparently one-owner from new. An information sheet said there were various issues in its earlier days,but these were overcome and it has proven itself to be a useful workhorse over the years and will continue to be used in that way.
Mercantour National Park (French: Parc national du Mercantour) is one of the ten national parks of France. Since it was created in 1979, the Mercantour Park has proven popular, with 800,000 visitors every year enjoying the 600 km of marked footpaths and visiting its villages.
The protected area covers some 685 km², consisting of a central uninhabited zone comprising seven valleys - Roya, Bévéra, Vésubie, Tinée, Haut Var/Cians (in the Alpes-Maritimes) plus Verdon and Ubaye (in the Alpes-de-Haute-Provence) - and a peripheral zone comprising 28 villages. Many of them are perched villages,such as Belvédère at the entrance to the spectacular Gordolasque valley, concealing great architectural riches (numerous churches decorated with murals and altar pieces by primitive Niçois painters). More than 150 rural sites are located within the Park. Around Mont Bégo there are petroglyphs pecked out on schist and granite faces. They have been dated from the late Neolithic and Bronze Ages.
In the heart of this setting of vertiginous summits (including Mont Gélas (obscured by clouds here), the highest point in the Maritime Alps at 3,143 m), lies a gem listed as a Historical Monument, the famous Vallée des Merveilles (out of view to the upper right), the aptly named "valley of marvels". At the foot of Mont Bégo, climbers can admire some 37,000 petroglyphs dating back to the Bronze Age, representing weapons, cattle and human figures that are sometimes very mysterious. A less challenging destination is the Musée des Merveilles at Tende.
In addition to the holm oak, the Mediterranean olive tree, rhododendrons, firs, spruces, swiss pines and above all larches, the Mercantour is also endowed with more than 2,000 species of flowering plants, 200 of which are very rare: edelweiss and martagon lily are the best known, but there is also saxifrage with multiple flowers, houseleek, moss campion and gentian offering a multi-coloured palette in the spring. The Mercantour is the site of a large-scale All Taxa Biodiversity Inventory and Monitoring programme to identify all its living species, organised by the European Distributed Institute of Taxonomy.
Walkers may easily glimpse a chamois, several thousand of which live in the park and may often hear the whistling of marmots. The ermine is rarer (and more furtive), as is the ibex and the mouflon, although with a little luck you may be able to observe them during the coolest parts of the day in the summer. There is a tremendous variety of wildlife in the Mercantour: Red Deer and Roe Deer in the undergrowth, hares and wild boars, partridges, Golden Eagles and Buzzards, numerous species of butterflies and even about 50 Italian Wolves (which migrated there at the beginning of the nineties). A Wolves Centre welcomes visitors in Saint-Martin-Vésubie.
The Maritime Alps are a mountain range in the southwestern part of the Alps. They form the border between the French region of Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur and the Italian regions of Piedmont and Liguria. They are the southernmost part of the Alps.
Administratively the range is divided between the Italian provinces of Cuneo and Imperia (eastern slopes) and the French department of Alpes-Maritimes (western slopes).
The Maritime Alps are drained by the rivers Roya, Var and Verdon and their tributaries on the French side; by the Stura di Demonte and other tributaries of the Tanaro and Po on the Italian side. There are many attractive perched villages, such as Belvédère at the entrance to the spectacular Gordolasque valley, some concealing unexpected architectural riches (for example in the south there are numerous churches decorated with murals and altar pieces by primitive Niçois painters).
Parc national du Mercantour est l'un des dix parcs nationaux de France. Depuis sa création en 1979, le Parc du Mercantour a prouvé populaire, avec 800 000 visiteurs chaque année profiter des 600 km de sentiers balisés et visiter ses villages.
La zone protégée couvre environ 685 km², composé d'une zone inhabitée central comprenant sept vallées de la Roya -, la Bévéra, Vésubie, Tinée, Haut Var / Cians (dans les Alpes-Maritimes), plus Verdon et l'Ubaye (dans les Alpes-de-Haute- Provence) - et une zone périphérique comprenant 28 villages. Beaucoup d'entre eux sont perchés les villages, comme Belvédère à l'entrée de la vallée de la Gordolasque spectaculaire, cachant de grandes richesses architecturales (nombreuses églises décorées de fresques et retables de peintres primitifs niçois). Plus de 150 sites ruraux sont situés dans le parc. Autour du Mont Bégo il ya pétroglyphes piquetées sur schiste et de granit visages. Ils ont été datés de la fin du Néolithique et l'Age de Bronze.
Au cœur de ce cadre de sommets vertigineux (y compris Mont Gélas (obscurci par les nuages ici), le point le plus élevé dans les Alpes Maritimes à 3143 m), se trouve un joyau classé Monument Historique, la célèbre Vallée des Merveilles (hors de la vue en haut à droite), la «vallée des merveilles» porte bien son nom. Au pied du Mont Bégo, les grimpeurs peuvent admirer quelques 37 000 pétroglyphes datant de l'âge du bronze, représentant des armes, des bovins et des figures humaines qui sont parfois très mystérieuse. Une destination moins difficile est le musée des Merveilles de Tende à.
En plus le chêne vert, l'olivier méditerranéen, rhododendrons, sapins, épicéas, pins suisses et surtout les mélèzes, le Mercantour est également doté de plus de 2000 espèces de plantes à fleurs, dont 200 sont très rares: edelweiss et lys martagon sont les plus connus, mais il est aussi saxifrage à fleurs multiples, joubarbe, silène acaule et gentiane offrant une palette multicolore au printemps. Le Mercantour est le site d'une grande échelle par les taxons biodiversité programme d'inventaire et de surveillance pour identifier tous ses espèces vivantes, organisé par l'Institut européen de Taxonomie.
Les marcheurs peuvent facilement apercevoir un chamois, plusieurs milliers de qui vivent dans le parc et peut souvent entendre le sifflement des marmottes. L'hermine est plus rare (et plus furtif), tout comme le bouquetin et le mouflon, mais avec un peu de chance vous pourrez peut-être de les observer pendant les heures les plus fraîches de la journée en été. Il ya une grande variété de la faune dans le Mercantour: Red Deer et de chevreuils dans le sous-bois, les lièvres et les sangliers, perdrix, Golden Eagles et des buses, de nombreuses espèces de papillons et même environ 50 loups italiens (qui ont migré là au début de les années nonante). Un Centre des Loups accueille les visiteurs à Saint-Martin-Vésubie.
Les Alpes-Maritimes sont une chaîne de montagnes dans la partie sud-ouest des Alpes. Ils forment la frontière entre la région française de Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur et les régions italiennes du Piémont et de la Ligurie. Ils sont la partie la plus au sud des Alpes.
Administrativement la gamme est divisée entre les provinces italiennes de (pentes orientales) Cuneo et Imperia et du département français des Alpes-Maritimes (versant ouest).
Les Alpes Maritimes sont drainés par les rivières de la Roya, Var et du Verdon et leurs affluents du côté français; par la Stura di Demonte et autres affluents du Tanaro et le Pô sur le versant italien. Il ya beaucoup de villages perchés attrayantes, comme le Belvédère à l'entrée de la vallée de la Gordolasque spectaculaire, quelques richesses architecturales dissimulant inattendus (par exemple dans le sud, il ya de nombreuses églises décorées de fresques et retables de peintres primitifs niçois).
It is proven, that the Abbazia di Sant'Antimo existed since Carolingian times. Legends (of course) know, that it was Charlemagne himself, who founded the abbey when he had left Rome, following the Via Francigena northward. The earliest document relating to the abbey is a land grant of Charlemagne´s son Louis the Pious from 813.
One year after the 1117 earthquake the erection of the church of today started. At that time the powerful abbey was one of the largest landowners in the area. As sovereigns and imperial officials at the same time, they also levied taxes.
The decline began with Siena's awakening striving for power, which conquered Montalcino in 1212. In the following decades, the property of the monastery shrank to a fifth. The church was never completed in the years that followed, as the complex construction probably exceeded the abbey's financial possibilities. A sign of decay is the unfinished facade.
New religious ideas gained influence. The then new orders of the Franciscans and Dominicans, whose monasteries were not built in the cities, gained strength. The Benedictine wish to be able to follow the rule ora et labora in seclusion was pushed into the background.
In 1462 Pope Pius II suppressed the abbey, annexed whatever was left - and handed it over to the Bishop of Montalcino-Pienza, who was his nephew.
1992 the abbey became an active monastery again with the arrival of a new congregation of Canons Regular of the Premonstratensian Order.
You can find many more photos from Tuscany here
Perrott's Folly in Edgbaston, Birmingham, West Midlands.
Built in the open Rotton Park by John Perrott in 1758, who lived in Belbroughton, the tower now stands high above the local residential and business housing.
There are many stories to explain why the tower was built. One is that John Perrott wanted to be able to survey his land and perhaps entertain guests. Or the tower might have been used to spot animals for hunting. Or that he built the tower so that he could see his wife's grave, 15 miles away.
From 1884 to 1979 the tower was used as a weather recording station for the Birmingham and Midland Institute. In 1966 the Geography Department of the University of Birmingham took over the running of the observatory until operations were transferred to the main campus.
It has been suggested, but not proven, that the towers of Perrott's Folly and Edgbaston Waterworks may have influenced references to towers in the writings of J. R. R. Tolkien, who lived nearby as a child.
El origen del Palacio de Carlos V se debe a la necesidad de un lugar que reuniese todas las comodidades de la época para el emperador y su familia, ya que el Alcázar, que era su residencia de verano, no cubría sus necesidades.
El emperador ordenó la construcción del palacio junto a la Alhambra para poder disfrutar de sus maravillas. El arquitecto encargado de la obra fue Pedro Machuca, un enamorado del renacimiento de acreditada experiencia. La construcción del palacio comenzó en 1527 y financió en su totalidad en 1957. La construcción pasó por varias etapas, falta de fondos, sublevaciones que pararon las obras, etcétera. Los techos llegaron a hundirse por abandono.
El palacio es cuadrado, con una fachada principal de 63 metros de ancho por 17 metros de alto. Destaca su patio circular en el centro, único en su estilo y la obra más destacada del renacimiento en España. Sólo están decoradas las fachadas sur y oeste en su totalidad. La norte y este sólo en parte, debido a que el edificio está unido al Alcázar de la Alhambra.
El edificio, de cantería, es cuadrado, y mide 63 m. de longitud y 17,40 de altura en las fachadas principales, quedando inscrito en el interior su patio circular, lo que determina una planta extraña y de difícil aprovechamiento, sin precedentes construidos. El edificio consta de dos cuerpos: el inferior de orden toscano, de obra almohadillada, con sillares picados y muy salientes pilastras en las que se insertan grandes anillones de bronce para atar los caballos. En los espacios intermedios de las pilastras se abren ventanas rectangulares y, sobre ellas, otras circulares (acristaladas recientemente), entendiéndose a lo largo de este cuerpo un amplio poyo que forma el zócalo del palacio.
Análoga disposición de huecos y pilastras ofrece el cuerpo segundo, aunque está mucho más ornamentado y, en él, bajo las ventanas circulares, se abren balcones con adornados dinteles. Las pilastras son de orden jónico, apoyando un entablamento corintio.
La parte central de las dos fachadas principales las ocupan magníficas portadas de mármol de Sierra Elvira, que son de lo más bello del Renacimiento español. La portada del lado occidental, que se considera la principal entrada del Palacio, es de orden dórico, con cuatro grupos de columnas dobles estriadas, cuyas basas y capiteles están preciosamente adornados. Entre las columnas se abren tres puertas: la central, de gran tamaño, sirve de apoyo a la estatua de una mujer que sostiene una granada simbólica en una de sus manos y extiende la otra en ademán de señalar, como haciendo al Emperador la ofrenda del palacio. Las otras dos puertas son más pequeñas y están adornadas con grupos de frutas en ménsulas y con medallas en sus tímpanos.
La del mediodía (mirando a la Torre de la Justicia) tiene el cuerpo inferior jónico; los pedestales que se prolongan a los lados para sostener dos leones tendidos tienen en sus netos bajo-relieves con trofeos guerreros, romanos, árabes, turcos y cristianos; la puerta tiene una cornisa y frontón con un relieve de la Abundancia en su tímpano y, sobre él, figuras aladas de la Fama y la Victoria ofreciendo coronas al vencedor y acompañadas de geniecillos. El segundo cuerpo de esta portada es corintio, y sus dobles columnas se apoyan en pedestales con relieves que forman una balconada.
Sobre estas portadas aparecen medallones enmarcados en piedra serpentina.
El patio, en alto, es por su grandeza y suntuosidad, una de las más bellas creaciones del Renacimiento. Su amplio círculo, de 30 m. de diámetro, ocupa el centro de la construcción y le rodea un ancho pórtico con 32 columnas dóricas. Las columnas, de piedra pudinga del Turro (Loja), corresponden a otras tantas pilastras que decoran el muro del claustro, entre las que se abren arcos, hornacinas y puertas para
www.alhambra.org/palacio-carlos-v.html
The origin of the Palace of Charles V is due to the need for a place that would meet all the comforts of the time for the emperor and his family, as the Alcazar, which was his summer residence, did not meet their needs.
The emperor ordered the construction of the palace next to the Alhambra so that he could enjoy its wonders. The architect in charge of the work was Pedro Machuca, a Renaissance lover of proven experience. The construction of the palace began in 1527 and was fully financed in 1957. The construction went through several stages, lack of funds, uprisings that stopped the works, and so on. The roofs even collapsed due to neglect.
The palace is square, with a main façade measuring 63 metres wide by 17 metres high. The circular courtyard in the centre is unique in its style and the most outstanding work of the Renaissance in Spain. Only the south and west façades are decorated in their entirety. The north and east façades are only partially decorated, due to the fact that the building is linked to the Alcazar of the Alhambra.
The building, made of stone, is square and measures 63 m. long and 17.40 m. high on the main façades, with a circular courtyard inside, which makes for a strange floor plan that is difficult to make use of, with no precedents ever built. The building consists of two sections: the lower section is of Tuscan order, with cushioned brickwork, with ashlars and very protruding pilasters in which large bronze rings are inserted for tying up the horses. Rectangular windows open in the spaces between the pilasters and, above them, other circular windows (recently glazed), with a wide base along this body forming the base of the palace.
The second section has a similar arrangement of openings and pilasters, although it is much more ornamented and, below the circular windows, there are balconies with ornate lintels. The pilasters are Ionic, supported by a Corinthian entablature.
The central part of the two main façades are occupied by magnificent Sierra Elvira marble façades, which are among the most beautiful of the Spanish Renaissance. The façade on the western side, which is considered the main entrance to the palace, is of Doric order, with four groups of double fluted columns, whose bases and capitals are beautifully ornamented. Three doors open between the columns. The central door, which is large, supports a statue of a woman holding a symbolic pomegranate in one hand and extending the other in a pointing gesture, as if making the offering of the palace to the Emperor. The other two gates are smaller and are decorated with groups of fruit on corbels and medals on their tympani.
The lower part of the doorway on the south (facing the Tower of Justice) is Ionic; the pedestals that extend to the sides to support two lions lying on their bases have bas-reliefs with Roman, Arab, Turkish and Christian war trophies; the doorway has a cornice and pediment with a relief of Abundance on its tympanum and, above it, winged figures of Fame and Victory offering crowns to the victor and accompanied by small genii. The second body of this doorway is Corinthian, and its double columns are supported by pedestals with reliefs that form a balcony.
Above these doorways are medallions framed in serpentine stone.
The high courtyard is one of the most beautiful creations of the Renaissance for its grandeur and sumptuousness. Its wide circle, 30 m in diameter, occupies the centre of the building and is surrounded by a wide portico with 32 Doric columns. The columns, made of pudinga stone from El Turro (Loja), correspond to as many pilasters that decorate the cloister wall, between which are arches, niches and doors to
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version)
Ligne 1 du réseau Libéo en provenance de C.C. Est et à destination Pôle d'Echanges Brive Laroche traversant la Corrèze.
I am genuinely surprised that my recent pictures have proven to be of some interest. I never expect anyone to look at them let alone read the narratives that accompany them. I have to admit the pictures serve only as a platform for the narrative. As I am alone with my transvestism I need an outlet and posting a picture provides me with a voice for my bottled up thoughts, dreams and concerns.
Increasingly I find I wish to express all the facets of my transvestism, including topics normally considered taboo by cross-dressers. When I was younger I was confused and distraught with trying to understand some of the feelings and desires I had regarding my urge to dress as a woman and behave as a female may.
I am very aware, as I’ve had the e-mails to say so, that some transvestites do not approve of me and despise me for the things I say in my photo narratives. I am also aware some can empathise with what I am saying which is a relief for one who is alone with their transvestite desires. I am using Flickr as my outlet for self expression and I am guilty of not thinking through what I write. What happens is the desire to cross-dress is frequently strong but I cannot do so. I find myself browsing my photo archive and then I choose a picture to post and start typing. It is stream of consciousness outpouring so may make for a rambling prose should anyone actually decide to read my words.
I post and write on Flickr for purely selfish reasons I need the relief of doing something related to my cross-dressing to help me cope during the times I cannot actually engage in the activity. As I say recently, this has been pleasantly received on Flickr but I still have my detractors who have no hesitation in writing to me directly and condemning me for my narratives and rubbish photos (their words). I am not sure why I induced such hostility in some but I am getting used to it now. I see though my photo posts in 2015 have had a positive response judging by the comments others have kindly posted. This heartens me and strengthens my resolve to carry on and to try and not let the hostile e-mails diminish me.
When I posted my last picture it was from my early days of cross-dressing. It was taken in March 2002 and I was still learning how to dress up as a woman. I suppressed my cross-dressing for over twenty years and finally began to dress in mid November 2000. Emotionally I was all over the place when I dressed up as a woman in that period and what I notice looking through these early attempts at trying to look like a female is the way I dress and pose. I appear to be trying to be sexy and alluring. Something was obviously motivating me to do this back then.
I know I used to get very aroused sexually in that earlier period and frequently masturbated when I was dressed in women’s clothing. It was almost like I was in love with my own female image! I was certainly and undeniably excited by the experience. I did experience that crashing negativity that occurs rapidly after masturbating while cross-dressed which manifests itself as shame and self disgust and an urgency to just take off the clothes and wash off the make-up. That used to happen every time I became Helene, in my first year of practicing transvestism I had a different female name, I was know as Cathy Mann. I was a confused individual back then riding a wave of excitement, erotica and terror followed always by negative feelings. Yet, underpinning all of that was real joy, euphoria and pure elation. The two conflicting emotions used to cause me great exhaustion and confusion.
I think the sexual excitement is something every transvestite experiences at some point and I’m mystified as to why so many vehemently deny this ever happened. In my case I can still on occasion experience it today and if so then I really enjoy the moment and fortunately no longer suffer from the negative crash that used to occur.
All of this talk about sexual arousal leads me onto to today's picture. This was a very early effort to dress as a woman taken in February 2001, just three months into my cross-dressing explorations at the age of 42. I was rather shocked at myself when I saw this picture recently as I wonder what was I thinking when I dressed and posed for it? Looking at it today I see an overt attempt at being sexy. I had tousled my wig to try and create a feminine slightly vulnerable, sexy yet alluring look, my eyes tell me I was completely into doing this, I wanted men to desire me as a female and I chose that classic male fantasy of seeing a girl just wearing a white shirt and showing off her legs whilst wearing heavy mascara and red lipstick. This whole image can only have been motivated by sex, I can see no other explanation.
What I can clearly recall after seeing the picture was I was very much into doing it on that evening, I adored being this woman and if a man desired me I would have been incredibly thrilled and excited by that. Here is the thing though, that thrill is pure ego, I love the idea of being a man that can be a sexy woman. I say that yet I have no attraction or desire for sex with a man! Of course anyone seeing this and reading my words will rightly interpret what I’m doing as pathetic and delusional as I am a man and can never hope to ever look remotely like a sexy woman, I’m a hopeless transvestite at the end of the day.
Despite my fears of ridicule and highlighting what a pathetic individual I am having such dreams I am posting this picture because I think many of us go through this stage with our cross-dressing. Unfortunately some find the final experience so negative after the the emotional high they then feel they must suppress their cross-dressing. My intention is to explain one is not alone with such experiences, they occur more often amongst transvestites than one may imagine. I think it is incredible to attempt such a look even if, like me, the results are not convincing. The desire needs to be set free. It is an intensely private experience and if done with consideration for others harms nobody and one will feel truly liberated.
If you are a transvestite and have an urge to pose as a sexy woman then you will need to do it. Suppressing it will not help, it is best to give it a go. In my case I was motivated by sexual excitement and loved the fact that as a man I was going against my gender. We all have different motivations. I am admitting to the sexual arousal not denying it because I used to experience it frequently when I cross-dressed.
Obviously being aroused is not good for wearing a dress! At some point one needs to move on from this stage and in time this happens. Nearly fifteen years on from my first day as an adult male transvestite in a dress my arousal is far less frequent but it does happen on occasion. If you do get aroused then enjoy the moment and work through the negative crash if it occurs as it will pass if you are patient and just wait instead of giving in to it. Understanding this leads onto a better and more rewarding long term cross-dressing experience.
I would also advocate patience if you have an urge to purge all your female clothing, lingerie, wigs, make-up and shoes. Do not throw it all away! If you feel you want to then try to exercise some will power and just seal it up in boxes and put in storage some where. You will regret throwing it away not to mention the expense of having to purchase it all over again. You will purchase again because the desire is never going to leave you, it is with us for life. It is all about managing things and being aware and ensuring others are not affected by our actions.
It’s also good to go off the rails in private occasionally and I feel that is exactly what I did in this picture. I wanted men to see me as a sexy desirable woman and I admit I was totally…totally…into posing in this way back in on that February evening in 2001. I may be pathetic and delusional but wow…was I having a lot of fun and excitement!
Una notte, tanto tempo fa, un pianto lungo e sommesso si aggiungeva ai rumori dell’oscurità. Questo pianto si ripeté a lungo, finché la Luna decise di trovarne la fonte.
A lungo girò intorno a tutto il pianeta e, quando aveva ormai perso del tutto le speranze, lo scorse.
Un piccolo punto luminoso: era da lì che proveniva il pianto.
La Luna scese dal suo cocchio e si avvicinò.
Accanto ad un pozzo, ai margini del bosco, era seduta una lucciola. “Chi sei tu? E perché rattristi con il tuo pianto tutte le mie stelle? “ chiese la Luna. La lucciola spaventata alzò gli occhi e rimase stupita nel vedere il suo interlocutore.
Allora disse: “Deve scusarmi, signora Luna, non volevo mettere tristezza alle sue stelle!”
“Io sono Lumil, il principe delle lucciole!”
“Perché piangi principe Lumil?” chiese la luna.
“Si avvicina la primavera e il mio popolo comincerà a vagare per i prati e i giardini, per illuminare le calde notti” disse Lumil “Ma noi non troveremo nessuna corolla dischiusa ad attenderci. Solo tanto verde!”
“E qual è il problema? “ chiese la Luna. “Il tuo popolo, da quando è stato creato, è sempre stato il popolo della notte! Voi avete un ruolo importante: dovete illuminare, come me e le stelle, le notti degli alberi”.
“E questo compito ci onora !” rispose Lumil. “Ma, vede signora Luna, c’è un sogno che ogni lucciola ha da quando nasce: io questo sogno lo faccio da sempre!”
“E qual è questo sogno?” chiese la Luna.
“Uscire dalla nostra casa, volare in un prato e trovare, almeno per una volta, un fiore che ci attenda e poterci posare sui suoi petali!” esclamò Lumil.
“Ma è un sogno, e solo un sogno rimarrà. Buona notte signora Luna e mi perdoni se l’ho disturbata”. E così dicendo Lumil volò via.
La Luna ritornò in cielo, ma non riusciva a smettere di pensare a Lumil e al sogno delle lucciole.
Le notti passavano e il pianto di Lumil le riempiva, ma all’improvviso il pianto cessò.
Sirio, una delle stelle, andò dalla luna e le disse: “Mamma ascolta!”e la invitò a tendere l’orecchio.
“Cosa devo ascoltare?”chiese la Luna.
“Il principe triste! Questa notte il suo pianto non si sente.” rispose Sirio.
“E’ vero ! esclamò la Luna . Non odo il suo lamento!”
“E se gli fosse accaduto qualcosa?” aggiunse Sirio molto preoccupata. “Ti prego mamma va a vedere!”
E cosi fu. La Luna salì sul suo cocchio e andò in cerca del pozzo presso il quale aveva incontrato Lumil per la prima volta.
Quando lo ebbe trovato, si fermò e si avvicinò.
Ferme, vicino al pozzo, trovò tante lucciole e ad una di loro chiese:
“Cosa accade?”la risposta la rattristò.
“Il nostro principe si è ammalato. Era molto triste perché sapeva che i suoi giorni stavano finendo, e che non sarebbe mai riuscito a realizzare il sogno del suo popolo. E il dispiacere lo ha consumato.”
La Luna rimase lì ferma ad attendere di poter vedere il principe Lumil.
Quando la vide il principe disse: “Signora Luna, come mai è ritornata?Io non ho pianto questa notte!”
“Ero preoccupata per te, ragazzo mio e volevo assicurarmi che tu stessi bene!” rispose la Luna dolcemente.
“Non deve preoccuparsi per me. Il mio tempo ormai è finito.
Raggiungerò i miei antenati con un unico rimpianto: non aver potuto realizzare il sogno del mio popolo. Spero che il prossimo principe ci riesca!”
Le forze stavano abbandonando il principe delle lucciole.
Tutto il suo popolo era preso da grande tristezza.
L’amore che le lucciole dimostravano al loro principe e la dolcezza di Lumil colpirono al cuore la Luna.
“Lumil la tua luce si spegnerà presto, questo io non posso evitarlo, ma – disse la Luna – andrai via sapendo di aver realizzato il sogno del tuo popolo. Guarda……..”
La Luna si strappò una ciglia, la prese tra le mani e la posò in terra di fianco a Lumil.
Come d’incanto dalla terra cominciarono a spuntare foglie.
Le foglie presero a germogliare, d’improvviso una gemma si schiuse e fece capolino un bel fiore giallo e fucsia.
“Ecco Lumil!Questo sarà il fiore delle lucciole, per sempre, e si chiamerà come te: Lumil, che nella lingua delle lucciole significa colui che rende bella la notte!” Lumil pianse di gioia e disse: “Grazie o luminosa Luna, sarà bella di notte per il mio popolo!”
E con tutta la forza che gli rimaneva, accese la sua lucina e volò sul suo fiore. E lì si spense felice.
Da quella notte, tante volte la Luna si è levata in cielo, ma ancora oggi quando, nelle notti d’estate guarda i prati, sorride.
Ogni notte le lucciole raggiungono le belle di notte che si schiudono solo per loro e c’è soltanto una pianta, la più bella, che non permette a nessuna lucciola di sedersi sui suoi petali e illuminarla: è la pianta nata vicino al pozzo ed è la sola che non ha bisogno di luce perché nei suoi fiori vive Lumil.
Sorry, to me is very difficult to visit poeple that only leave a fav without commenting...
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