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ces questions métaphysiques, ce n'est plus de mon âge, se lamenta-t-il en pouffant de rire, un rire amer,
au fil du blog Éléments du monde ordinaire vous trouverez en contrepoint de quoi lire et imaginer ou bâiller,
and for those of you who do not speak French, Francis J. recommends that you use DeepL to get his texts translated into the language of your choice.
besançon (3969r2000)
Is it interesting or is it ugly or is it both ... or something else?
My friend moved from a place with an amazing seaside view to a cute little cottage in suburban Wellington. Towering over his lovely garden is this beast of a building.
Steve is such an amazing positive dude and he loves his new abode. I'm not sure what he thinks of this behemoth but I'm sure he would see the beauty in it. What absolutely astounds me is that an architect would put big concrete walls with few windows on a pretty much north facing wall. I think they used to call it progress, not sure what they call it now!
I do like the of agapanthus flowers that line the fence however they're considered a pest in New Zealand as they grow so prolifically and drown out any natives that are generally slower growing.
Have a wonderful weekend my dear flickr friends :)
Digitalmania Challenge week, let's try our hand at creating a composite character with odd bits and pieces. Here's an example:
Answer if you want. I saw this question on the net ( not sure who said that) and I really thought it was an interesting question. My answer is No but I still like to go places far away when it is possible.
** thanks Tota for the texture.**
Répondez à cette question si vous voulez. Faut-il aller loin pour trouver des choses intéressantes à photographier? Ma réponse est non mais j'aime quand même aller loin si c'est possible.
Antwerp, Estación Central.
(...) Towards the end of the nineteenth century, Austerlitz began, in reply to my questions about the history of the building of Antwerp station, when Belgium, a little patch of yellowish gray barely visible on the map of the world, spread its sphere of influence to the African continent with its colonial enterprises, when deals of huge proportions were done on the capital markets and raw-materials exchanges of Brussels, and the citizens of Belgium, full of boundless optimism, believed that their country, which had been subject so long to foreign rule and was divided and disunited in itself, was about to become a great new economic power—at that time, now so long ago although it determines our lives to this day, it was the personal wish of King Leopold, under whose auspices such apparently inexorable progress was being made, that the money suddenly and abundantly available should be used to erect public buildings which would bring international renown to his aspiring state. One of the projects thus initiated by the highest authority in the land was the central station of the Flemish metropolis, where we were sitting now, said Austerlitz; designed by Louis Delacenserie, it was inaugurated in the summer of 1905, after ten years of planning and building, in the presence of the King himself.
Delacenserie's eclecticism, uniting past and future in the Centraal Station with its marble stairway in the foyer and the steel and glass roof spanning the platforms, was in fact a logical stylistic approach to the new epoch, said Austerlitz, and it was also appropriate, he continued, that in Antwerp Station the elevated level from which the gods looked down on visitors to the Roman Pantheon should display, in hierarchical order, the deities of the nineteenth century—mining, industry, transport, trade, and capital. For halfway up the walls of the entrance hall, as I must have noticed, there were stone escutcheons bearing symbolic sheaves of corn, crossed hammers, winged wheels, and so on, with the heraldic motif of the beehive standing not, as one might at first think, for nature made serviceable to mankind, or even industrious labor as a social good, but symbolizing the principle of capital accumulation.
And Time, said Austerlitz, represented by the hands and dial of the clock, reigns supreme among these emblems. The clock is placed above the only baroque element in the entire ensemble, the cruciform stairway which leads from the foyer to the platforms, just where the image of the emperor stood in the Pantheon in a line directly prolonged from the portal; as governor of a new omnipotence it was set even above the royal coat of arms and the motto Endracht maakt macht. The movements of all travelers could be surveyed from the central position occupied by the clock in Antwerp Station, and conversely all travelers had to look up at the clock and were obliged to adjust their (...)
W. G. Sebald, Austerlitz, 2001.
I wish I knew what these were, they appear vary alien like to me, because I am not here very often (ever). What is the purpose of all the thorns? Its a very odd looking plant.
I am proud to say, you can also find this image on iStock. www.istockphoto.com/portfolio/ChristopherShaw
"J'ai ainsi vécu seul, sans personne avec qui parler 'véritablement, jusqu'à une panne dans le désert du Sahara, il y a six ans. Quelque chose s'était cassée dans mon moteur. Et comme je n'avais avec moi ni mécanicien, ni passagers, je me préparai à essayer de réussir, tout seul, une réparation difficile. C'était pour moi une question de vie ou de mort. J'avais à peine de l'eau à boire pour huit jours,
Le premier soir je me suis donc endormi sur le sable à mille milles de toute terre habitée. J'étais bien plus isolé qu'un naufragé sur un radeau au milieu de l'Océan. Alors vous imaginez ma surprise, au lever du jour, quand une drôle de petite voix m'a réveillé. Elle disait :
- S'il vous plaît... dessine-moi un mouton !
- Dessine-moi un mouton...
J'ai sauté sur mes pieds comme si j'avais été frappé par la foudre. J'ai bien frotté mes yeux. J'ai bien regardé. Et j'ai vu un petit bonhomme tout à fait extraordinaire qui me considérait gravement. Voilà le meilleur portrait que, plus tard, j'ai réussi à faire de lui. Mais mon dessin, bien sûr, est beaucoup moins ravissant que le modèle. Ce n'est pas ma faute. J'avais été découragé dans ma carrière de peintre par les grandes personnes, à l'âge de six ans, et je n'avais rien appris à dessiner, sauf les boas fermés et les boas ouverts.
je regardai donc cette apparition avec des yeux tout ronds d'étonnement. N'oubliez pas que je me trouvais à mille milles de toute région habitée. Or mon petit bonhomme ne me semblait ni égaré, ni mort de fatigue, ni mort de faim, ni mort de soif, ni mort de peur. Il n'avait en rien l'apparence d'un enfant perdu au milieu du désert, à mille milles de toute région habitée. Quand je réussis enfin à parler, je lui dis :
- Mais... qu'est-ce que tu fais là ?
Et il me répéta alors, tout doucement, comme une chose très sérieuse :
- S'il vous plaît... dessine-moi un mouton...
Quand le mystère est trop impressionnant, on n'ose pas désobéir. Aussi absurde que cela me semblât à mille milles de tous les endroits habités et en danger de mort, je sortis de ma poche une feuille de papier et un stylographe. Mais je me rappelai alors que j'avais surtout étudié la géographie, l'histoire, le calcul et la grammaire et je dis au petit bonhomme (avec un peu de mauvaise humeur) que je ne savais pas dessiner. Il me répondit :
- ça ne fait rien. Dessine-moi un mouton.
Comme je n'avais jamais dessiné un mouton je refis, pour lui, l'un des deux seuls dessins dont j'étais capable. Celui du boa fermé. Et je fus stupéfait d'entendre le petit bonhomme me répondre :
- Non ! Non ! je ne veux pas d'un éléphant dans un boa. Un boa c'est très dangereux, et un éléphant c'est très encombrant. Chez moi c'est tout petit. J'ai besoin d'un mouton. Dessine-moi un mouton.
Alors j'ai dessiné.
Il regarda attentivement, puis
- Non! Celui-là est déjà très malade. Fais-en un autre.
Je dessinai :
Mon ami sourit gentiment, avec indulgence.
- Tu vois bien... ce n'est pas un mouton, c'est un bélier. Il a des cornes...
Je refis donc encore mon dessin.
Mais il fut refusé, comme les précédents.
- Celui-là est trop vieux. je veux un mouton qui vive longtemps.
Alors, faute de patience, comme j'avais hâte de commencer le démontage de mon moteur, je griffonnai ce dessin-ci.
Et je lançai :
- ça c'est la caisse. Le mouton que tu veux est dedans.
Mais je fus bien surpris de voir s'illuminer le visage de mon jeune juge :
- C'est tout à fait comme ça que je le voulais ! Crois-tu qu'il faille beaucoup d'herbe à ce mouton ?
- Pourquoi ?
- Parce que chez moi c'est tout petit...
- Ça suffira sûrement. je t'ai donné un tout petit mouton.
Il pencha la tête vers le dessin
- Pas si petit que ça... Tiens Il s'est endormi...
Et c'est ainsi que je fis la connaissance du petit prince."
[Le Petit Prince de Saint-Exupéry (Chap. II)]
can you love, can you love
can you love the version of me
i don't let, i don't let
♬ i don't let anybody else see ♬
the things:
fd - classic romance dress
Jack Spoon - Amyris Lash @ Anthology
and Cey Soft Shadow @ the mainstore
Tram (thankyouuu!!) - P0625 hair @ Uber
There is no question that there is an unseen world. The problem is, how far is it from midtown and how late is it open . - Woody Allen
It was cold, muddy and dull, and I am feeling sick so didn't do much just this panorama pic. " It ain't much but it's honest work" If you have questions feel free to ask 😁. Thanks for the visit and have a nice day! 😊
the yellow-billed spoonbill (Platalea flavipes)
The question is:
How does the spoonbill make a little fish jump into its open mouth?
A biologist's answer is:
The answer lies in its extraordinary spoon.
The spoonbill's answer is:
How? The good Lord knows. I just do it.
Konyaltii Beach at the west side of Antalya.
Inner peace is not a question of external circumstances, rather of internal readiness.
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"Huis Westerflier", Diepenheim
House Westerflier
House Westerflier is part of the Landgoed Nijenhuis and is located west of Diepenheim. It is about 300 hectares. The Buitenplaats Westerflier is a rectangular country house from 1729 without towers, only one building house and a simple landscape park.
The name Westerflier has a very old origin: already in 1046 'Westerfle' is mentioned in a donation deed. In this case, there was no question of an estate or castle, but of a region, of which it is only clear that it was located to the west of Twente. At the end of a sand ridge, at a strategic location, where the then still navigable Regge branch of the Schipbeek, in 1536 a manor. Unfortunately, the early history of the Westerflier is largely hidden in mist. It is known, however, that the outdoor area belonged to the Warmelo. The well-known Catholic family Van Hoevell to Westerflier owned the estate for about a century (1628-1721), but retained the additive to distinguish itself from the protestant Van Hoevell van Nijenhuis family.
Then it came into the hands of the Van der Sluys family, which had become rich by timber trade next to a lock that was not far from Diepenheim in the Schipbeek. This owner has demolished the old house (of which unfortunately very little is known) and in 1729 the current house was built in a simple classicist style. Actually, the house has changed little in those nearly 300 years.
The Van der Sluys family sold the house in 1854 to Rutger Jan Schimmelpenninck, the grandson of the Grand Pensionary Schimmelpenninck, who had bought the Nijenhuis half a century earlier. Since then the estate has remained in the family. It was privately inhabited until 1935, then it was rented out and it was some time (1948-1969) a home for girls who had left home. Later it was divided into four apartments and in 2005 the house was vacant. House Westerflier was then in a bad state and in 2008/2009 the house has been thoroughly restored. Now it is inhabited by two households.
They usually know where the bathrooms are.
Relax, it's just a bit of humor. Police action in San Jose, California. Resolved peacefully.
Sponsored:
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Ear Piercings: Naga by Codex, available now at FaMeshed, and afterwards at the Codex Mainstore
Ring: From the Gothic Rings pack by Badwolf, still available at this round of Sabbath Event, and afterwards at Badwolf Mainstore.
Other Deets:
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Body: Legacy - Male
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If you're curious about the raw shot, you can find it on my BlueSky. Check it out!
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Peace is present right here and now, in ourselves and in everything we do and see. Every breath we take, every step we take, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity.
The question is whether or not we are in touch with it. We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment.
~Thich nhat Hanh
Background picture: Crazy Bear
Thank you Annette Allor for properly identifying this butterfly for me. When it's wings are open it shows bright orange top wings. When closed the wings resemble a dead leaf. This one is eating on an over ripe Paw Paw fruit. Upper Marlboro, MD
She said:
Believe me, I wish I could heal.
If only you knew how exhausting it is to be locked in your own unhappiness. To get used to sorrow. To forget yourself. To no longer see beyond the trouble of the tears.
To no longer be able to get out of it.
To feel trapped in the cycle of uncontrollable, unleashed and overwhelming emotions, filled with torrents and collapsing skies.
And even when we strive to feel better, that sorrow begins to fade, we feel ourselves fading along with it. As if our identity was hidden beneath the tears.
As if we were here for too long.
Could this be healing? Being able to answer the question:
Who am I beyond my sorrow?
Which is my favorite color? No question for a diligent gardener - green, of course! Although, when I think of my beautiful, colorful flowers... I think I need to reconsider everything!
Leider inzwischen Geschichte sind die Einsätze der "Taucherbrille" vor den UIC-Y-Wagen im Böhmerwald. Der SP 1702 von Klatovy nach Železná Ruda-Alžbětín wird seit Fahrplanwechsel aus zwei Triebwagen der Reihe 847 gebildet. Am 27. Oktober 2024 konnte ich die bestens gepflegte "Blitz-Brille" 754.022 vor besagtem Zug zwischen Špičák und Železná Ruda město fotografieren.
Unfortunately, the use of the ‘diving goggles’ in front of the UIC Y coaches in the Bohemian Forest is now history. Since the timetable change, the SP 1702 from Klatovy to Železná Ruda-Alžbětín has been formed by two class 847 railcars. On 27 October 2024, I was able to photograph the well-maintained 754.022 in front of the train in question between Špičák and Železná Ruda město.
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CHRIS BROWN - QUESTIONS (OFFICIAL LYRIC VIDEO)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUePLxI7REQ
♡ тнanĸ yoυ all ғor yoυr ғaveѕ, coммenтѕ and awardѕ ♡
"Where are you ?"
I'm here
outstanding
between sky
and earth
And while
I ask the Moon
if she saw you
on the other side
of the world
during its orbit
Suddenly
I heard your question
that calls back
from afar
in the evening
that stands for
become night 🌸
"Dove sei ?"
sono qui
in sospeso
tra il cielo
e la terra
E mentre
chiedo alla Luna
se ti avesse visto
dall'altro lato
del mondo
durante la sua orbita
Ad un tratto
ho sentito la tua domanda
che mi chiama
da lontano
nella sera
che sta per
diventare notte.🌸
Marta
This is Kiki my little powerhouse, Mexican Chihuahua x French Bulldog... she is uber attentive, vocal, super inquisitive, very protective, funny, playful and gets insulted if you don't understand her.. lol
Oliver Zillich ©2024
Any duplication, processing, distribution or any form of utilisation shall require the prior written consent of Oliver Zillich in question.
Tristezza infinita. Ho letto questa mattina un articolo che mi ha sconvolto un po'. È la lettera del figlio (giornalista) dello psichiatra forense genovese Gian Luigi Rocco, morto due giorni fa per Covid. È una denuncia, una testimonianza straziante che mostra quanto grave sia la situazione, nonostante i proclami e la propaganda fatta per cercare di minimizzare una situazione disastrosa. Non pensavo però fino a questo punto.
Gian Luigi Rocco aveva 71 anni, in buona salute. Il 3 novembre il tampone, dopo una settimana di raffreddore, risulta positivo. Il 6 novembre era stato portato al PS di San Martino perché la sua saturazione era crollata. Durante la breve degenza, NON LO HANNO OSSIGENATO, perché l'ossigeno era finito, a causa dei troppi accessi. È stato 12 h SU UNA SEDIA , di un reparto traboccante di pazienti (ho avuto io l'esperienza allucinante con mia madre, ma eravamo a marzo).... E poi lo hanno rimandato a casa, con la febbre a 40 e quando ormai non respirava quasi più...
Il 3 dicembre è morto solo, in un reparto di terapia intensiva dell'Ospedale Galliera. Era una persona onesta , buona, gentile, innamorato del suo lavoro, che ha sempre svolto in modo eccezionale, dei suoi figli v, nipoti. Era un marito affettuoso...
Mi vengono le lacrime agli occhi mentre leggo. 'Mio padre non c' è più _scrive il figlio _, ma là fuori ci sono ancora persone che si lamentano perché il Natale lo faranno da soli, perché non possono andare al ristorante, perché non possono inforcare gli sci, perché è tutta una truffa, una dittatura sanitaria, orchestrata, tra l'altro, non si sa bene da chi.. Bene, pensate che nel 2021 tornerete a fare tutte queste cose. Mio padre non potrà più. Noi non potremo più.
Scrivo anche questo perché una piccola sofferenza (se così si può chiamare la distanza per un periodo limitato dai propri cari, il rispetto di misure di precauzione.) vi può risparmiare una grande sofferenza domani. Non auguro a nessuno un mese come il nostro , una discesa all'inferno senza nessun appiglio cui aggrapparsi...'.
Tutto questo, aggiungo io, mentre si parla di Liguria zona bianca, di riaprire tutto per le feste natalizie, perché' il Natale è sacro ', e non vedere i propri cari è immorale...(invece ucciderli è morale), perché si deve andare a Messa a mezzanotte... E poi le grandi questioni, i tormentoni :Mes si, Mes no, ma no I soldi ci sono.... E poi non ci sono neppure i letti all' Ospedale. Questo nella 'civile ' Genova.
Dopo due mesi di telefonate la prossima settimana forse avrò il vaccino antinfluenzale per mia mamma. Che dovrò farle da sola, io che non ho mai fatto in vita mia una puntura.
Io prendo precauzioni, sono attenta, ma la badante di mia mamma no. Il' famoso ' prof Bassetti, primario di San Martino, brutta faccia costantemente in tutti i canali TV è riuscito nel suo intento : non bisogna terrorizzare la popolazione (e poi il virus non era già morto?).
' ma sono tutti dati gonfiati - mi ha spiegato sorridendo la badante - di morti inventati, vecchi morti col virus, non per virus...'
Scusate lo sfogo. Spero sia utile a qualcuno
L'articolo è su:Liguria oggi, del 4/12
Deep sadness
( for the situation about Coronavirus in Liguria )