View allAll Photos Tagged Reality
After seeing Star Treks Version of London and inception. I thought i would give a spin of my own on a version of London. This was taken from St Pauls Cathedral. And i applied some stretching in Photoshop.
Wall painting, trompe l'œil on a house in city center of Angoulême, France.
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Peinture murale en trompe-l’œil sur une maison en plein centre-ville d'Angoulême. France.
"La fille des remparts" de Max Cabanes - Lieu : 6 boulevard Pasteur - Année : 2004 - Taille : 120 m²
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Spock and his friend Merlin, beautiful whippets, now live next door to us. I fear that my portrait shows Spock a little severe, whereas in reality he is so gentle.
I guess he may have been startled to find himself the object of my attention with my camera.
One of his humans did express a liking for the photo.....I'm really not sure and present it here and no doubt you will tell me what you think....
for: Thursday monochrome (Donnerstagsmonochrom)
many thanks for all visits, faves ,especially, comments
I spent the weekend in Aberdeen, WA, and I ended up photographing quite a few abandoned places with the homeless in my frames. I don't enjoy photographing the homeless, but I do think it's a story in the midst of the state of our environment. I feel for them. Becoming homeless could happen to anyone.
Something different ....!
Have a grand week guys. Thank you for comments and faves!
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-DRD- Netrunner Pod
. : Mea Tenebra : . Reset
[Moonstone] – Tupper
This is reality--a two dimensional colorless plane of pure information, from which projects three-dimensional holographs of what we experience as the physical world, light, color, gravity, free will, thought, etc. This is the whole of reality. You can zoom in for details.
The fantail bird is a sculpture in a park near Hamilton. The noisy cicada seems to know the bird will not eat it.
Hhmmm... There seem to be more flamingo reflections in the water than in reality on land. :)
Have a fantastic day, everyone...
For the start of a brand new 2026, the stark reminder life is short and many will not see 2027, enjoy the family and friends today and make the most of today!
“Winter is like fake love that warms us with its beauty and freezes us with its reality!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan
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Thanks to all for visits and kind comments ...!
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The moon by Luke Jerram.
Geschaffen hat ihn der britische Künstler Luke Jerram, der Durchmesser beträgt imposante sieben Meter.
Das Kunstwerk bildet die Mondoberfläche ab, Luke Jerram hat dafür zahllose Aufnahmen der NASA montiert.
Vor den Kirchenfenstern hängen lange Spruchbänder, um das Tageslicht zu dämpfen und so die Strahlkraft des Mondes zu erhöhen.
Anm.:
Die Aufnahme entstand aus freier Hand; ohne Stativ ist es natürlich schwierig, die ganz genaue optische Mitte zu treffen. Der Mond hängt zudem nicht exakt mittig im Kirchenschiff. Es müsste aber so "passen".
Many of you know for sure the great SF „Inception“ from 2010. Leonardo DiCaprio uses a spinning top to check in which reality he is in. This little guy here from my junk drawer remembers me to this excellent movie.
Art is not a reflection of reality, it is the reality of a reflection.
Jean-Luc Godard
When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it's your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not.
Georgia O'Keeffe
2021 04 13_4543.jpgt.jpgoo
"it is obvious from underneath position
that the surface looks different
from that at ground level"
drawing in diorama vision
Drager Meurtant at Museum Ludwig, March 23, 2022
reality
has slipped away from me
and all that i've got left are these fever dreams
and when the days get colder
and when we all grow older
will the world still be so cloudy to me?
(i may delete this)
(i hate my stream right now)
Locked in the dark and narrow cage we have built for ourselves, which we mistake for the entirety of the universe, few of us can even imagine that another dimension of reality exists.
Sogyal Rinpotché
“Are you going to carry on like this all the way through the series?” Ali had already had enough of the grumbling monster at the other end of the sofa. “They're only using all of these locations to show off the county.” I tried to maintain my silence, but the red rag had been waved and I'd already climbed onto the highest horse in the neighbouring field and was chasing off after it like a hungry zealot. “But this couple live in Mevagissey, the others are so loaded that they've managed to build a multi million pound property at, isn't that Mawgan Porth, and yet they've bumped into each other by total coincidence at Penzance lido! Who goes to Penzance lido when they live at Mawgan Porth for goodness sake? It must be at least forty miles each way. There's a leisure centre at Newquay. We live much closer to Penzance and I've only ever been in that lido once. You've never been in it at all and you were born here! And why are they launching a charity in St Ives? It doesn't make sense!”
We were watching a new drama series on the television of course, and this one was set in our own backyard. Well, bits of it were anyway. Depends on your definition of backyard really. You might have seen it too. I expect the residents of Shetland feel the same and we've been hooked on that since the first series. Ali was right of course. Cornwall was the star of the show while the complex issues around a pair of babies who were accidentally swapped at birth because of an admin cock up were merely a side story. One rich couple, the other supposedly down on their luck - although she owned a restaurant, just as we all do down here, and they lived in a very nice looking house in Mevagissey that many local people can only dream of. But the reality gap is always going to drive people like me around the twist. Poldark was even worse. Holywell Bay one minute, Penberth Cove the next. And five minutes after that, Ross was racing his horse across Bodmin Moor while Demelza had magically appeared in Charlestown. And this was in the late eighteenth century, almost two hundred years before the first Ford Sierra Cosworth with go faster stripes had arrived on the peninsula for goodness sake.
I'm sure the Royal Cornwall Hospital Trust really appreciated the negative fictional publicity. They're in the local news enough with tales of misfortune and malpractice as it is, without the screenwriters putting the boot in. I should add for the sake of balance that my children and their own children were all born there without incident.
I've often wondered when the moment would arrive for me to share this one, taken six years ago on a windy rain charged Sunday afternoon in March when the late winter light was doing magical things on top of St Agnes Head. But it was on a stout pinnacle by these very rocks that the villain broke his anger run along the cliff path and stood, gazing enigmatically towards the west as he plotted and schemed his devious affairs, one director's instruction short of beating his chest like a mountain gorilla. As the shot opened up and panned away into the distance, there was Wheal Coates, packed with glorious drama. But may I remind you that his waterfront palace is at Mawgan Porth? Down the hill from Newquay Airport. Did he run all the way then? Is he an ultramarathon man as well as a thoroughly unpleasant chap? If I fancy going for a trot I do it near home. I don't jump in the car and drive halfway across the county.
I'm sitting within this view as I sketch the notes for my story before I forget what I was going to rant about. There's nothing much doing anyway, and I've already got my shots, besides which I need to shift in a minute because it's Friday. Five a side night. It's a beautiful view, but rather than running halfway across the north coast of the county I came here in the car. It's much quicker and allows me to focus a bit more clearly than was done with the plot of a half baked TV drama that we only lasted the distance with because of where it was filmed. Enough said. Time to, erm, run around in a sports hall, and one just down the road rather than the other side of Cornwall.