View allAll Photos Tagged Realization
"The dragonfly symbolizes change and change in the perspective of self realization; and the kind of change that has its source in mental and emotional maturity and the understanding of the deeper meaning of life."
I've decided that I want to continue this "on death and dying" series. I am really fascinated by life and death, but I don't want to portray death in the typical way. I want to show the more peaceful, calm, and ethereal side to death, with an almost dream-like quality to it. This image will be the third in the series.
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We stumbled upon this dragonfly sitting on a blade of grass as we went down to the water to shoot. At first we thought he was dead, because he was very still.. but after staring at him for a bit we saw that he was moving his legs, but for some reason he didn't fly away. We picked him up and he crawled right on to Moll's hand. He fluttered his wings a few times here and there, but for the most part he just climbed around on us. So of course, I asked if she would mind putting the dragonfly (who we later named Fabio) on her face... she happily obliged (I love this girl!). After putting him on her cheek, of course I took the next step and asked if she'd mind putting him on her mouth.. And I really can't say that many people would be so willing to honor a request like that. Fabio was a fantastic model as well, he sat there very poised and totally nailed the mood we were going for. After we played with him for a while, we decided to put him in a safe place and part ways. It was kind of sad, because he seemed like he didn't want us to leave, but we had to. Fabio, I hope you are doing well <3.
Model: Moll Green
Photography: Savannah Daras
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www.savannahdaras.com | Facebook | Tumblr | deviantArt | Twitter
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Sarah Ann Loreth, Diana Lemieux, and myself are holding a creative portraiture workshop in New Hampshire on June 23rd! Spots are limited! Email me at savannah@savannahdaras.com for more details.
I You were tagged by me please see why in the comments Chronicles of lifting Light C (The Reception Game)
The alternate version of Chronicles of lifting Light B ( Bridesmaids) - Album
“The wedding was a little over the top. The bride wanted her girl’s dresses to be something they would wear out again. A nice thought, but the gowns she found were a little too long for anything but formal evening wear, according to our girls who were asked to be part of the bridal party. The maid of honor wore a red silk version; the six Bridesmaids wore theirs in black satin.”
“A few years ago, “Ginny” was watching some type of show when I heard her squeal out. Our Golden Retriever ‘Sam’ meandered back in to see what all the fuss was about? I obediently followed. Ginny pointed out to me a model who was wearing fetchingly a long black satin gown, That’s m’ gown Ginny exclaimed, you remember, the one I wore at “Sheila’s” wedding, the one where my necklace was.., But at that point her attention was diverted back to her program. Squirrel I teased as Sam and I watched with her.
It was a gown strikingly very similar in colour, cut, and material to the one worn by Ginny ( and me sister) at a chums wedding years before ( and winningly worn several times hence I might add). It is a pretty thing to behold my charming Ginny sporting it, and in its time, it has born witness to a few goings on that most ladies wearing a gown like that would never encounter…….”
Chronicles of lifting Light C
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This story is true, and is really pretty much told as it happened.
What we did may sound daft, but read and understand the circumstances, plus realize we all were pretty well lit up with drink.
I have enhanced certain aspects of the story, but not as much as on my first draft, for that one came out sounding more farfetched than it should have.
For indeed, truth can be stranger than fiction… and coincidences occur, both sweet and bitter….. as I’m sure someone once said.
So here goes it….
My twin sister and our friend “Ginny” were invited to join in a school chums bridal party. The groom didn’t have enough to go around so my sister’s boyfriend “Brian” and I were pressed, not unwillingly, into service.
At the reception my Ginny made a comment about the flimsy clasps on the rhinestone jewelry they were wearing. My Sister, touched her necklace, told her, “ no worries, luv, no one would nick them anyways, they are only rhinestones”. Except my ring isn’t, said Ginny looking down at the ruby ring she was wearing on her pinky. My sister, thinking a minute, retorted “Then one never knows… “ , It looked like she was going to add something, but at that point the band restarted, and we joined the swarm of fancy gowns, silky dresses, suits and tuxes heading to the dance floor.
As we headed off, I was still perplexed about what had been going on in Sis’s head that made her come out with that reply, and I swear she had stolen a look at me while saying it. But as I had watched her pull at an earring to emphasize how loose the sparkling jewel was, a seed was planted in my head about a subject I myself had always found fascinating, pickpocketing jewelry!
Much later that evening, found Brian, me sister, and I alone, and probably more than a little drunk (always a precarious time with us). As Sis and Brain chatted on about a topic I had lost interest in, I started to watch Ginny, who had been asked to dance by some twit with shifty eyes in a red silk shirt, (open colored), who had rudely cut in on us. As I watched Ginny’s swishing gown move and flutter about in quite an interesting exhibition, I found meself mesmerized by the manner in which her healthy display of rhinestones were sparkling about( as they had been all evening). I looked back at my sister, and her own show of jewelry, sparkling up nicely against a black satin backdrop.
Still not being able to shake me twin’s earlier comment, nor its answer, out of my head about nicking jewels, I finally chanced asking my twin about her comments. She looked at me, having to think back a bit about the question, ( As I said, we were more drunk than sober by then), placing a nicely ringed finger to her lips, while regrouping her thoughts. Got it, she exclaimed proudly remembering what had triggered her memory, and started to explain.
When she was a tyke of about 7, there was a show that she had seen on the tele that centered on this group of people trying to reform a thief. Believing that he had turned a new leaf, they threw a fancy dance for him in honor of his new ways. During the dance, he cut in and danced with each of the three ladies who had been trying to teach him the errors of his ways. From one he slipped off her long diamond earrings, from a second her diamond necklace was lifted away, but me sister was unsure what the scoundrel took from the third. Sis thought that the earrings and necklaces that she and Ginny were wearing that evening, looked a lot like the ones from that show.
Now, as me twin described the thief’s antics, certain emotions awakened, rearing their tantalizing heads; my mind began wandering in some deep waters, pulled bout by some deep personal emotions. Cause I had been sitting on the couch with her, when as quite young children, we had first seen that episode.
As it happened my sister had been outside earlier playing dress up in on of mum’s old party gowns and was still wearing it, along with a set of costume pearls. Suddenly, that day, I wanted nothing more in the world than to lift the pearls she was wearing. I simmered over it for the rest of the program, getting to the point of actually laying my arm on the back of the couch, inching my fingers towards the clasp of her pearls laying there upon the back of her throat. But then the show ended, and I got no closer to stealing anything more than a touch of a really soft old evening gown. After the show ended, I warily suggested we go back outside and play Robin Hood (my sister has always been into his story).
We did, and as Sir Robin led her to his hideout, conveniently located through a thicket of Hawthorne’s, the pretty Maid Marion’s pearls mysteriously melted away.
That is when I had I had my epiphany, hitting me like a brick wall! Waiting till sis finished her story, I pointed out to Ginny, and asked the pair, If Ginny had been the third lady he had danced with, what jewelry do you think he would have lifted from her while dancing?
Brian , always the more pragmatic of the group, snorted, that’s stuff that only happens in stories and movies. I said I would bet it can be done, a quid says I can lift a piece of Ginny’s jewelry with her never noticing. Sis chimed in, you wouldn’t dare, but she was looking at me like she knew the answer already. Brian caught her tone, and took me up on it, betting me the quid that I couldn’t get away with lifting her necklace,( I liked his choice, it had been a necklace that “Sir Robin” had first lifted from me sisters neck that day in the woods long past).
At this time the music ended, and Ginny swished back to rejoin us. We drank and talked for a bit more, and I’m was all but certain Brian and my sister had all but forgotten the wager. But I hadn’t, nor had I been able to keep my eyes from studying the rhinestones Ginny had wrapped around her pretty throat. When a slow song started up, I rose and asked Ginny to a dance. I caught Brian’s eyes, and read the dare reflecting in them, so we were still on with the wager. Leading Ginny to the dance floor, we embraced, and danced to the pretty song, a slow one. Ginny was absolute pure heaven in my arms, and I found me self so entrapped that I never made an attempt upon her lovely rhinestone necklace.
As the song was ending, I caught a look from Brian across the dance floor, noticing that he smugly was looked at Ginny’s throat. I did not want to lose me quid on principle (I swear), so as the dance ended I held onto Ginny, waiting. Soon a second song started, disappointedly a more fast paced one with a Latin beat. I spun Ginny around onto the floor before she had time to catch a breath, we danced, like the song says:
And we… danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced
We were liars in love and we danced
Swept away for a moment by chance
And we danced, danced, danced
And dance we did, hot, furious and fast. A couple of times I spun Ginny around, and the poor girl already a bit tipsy, fell against me, giggling. About the third time I spun her, she stopped, and dropped backside into me and began to do this sort of gyrating move, slithering up and down my front side, with her hands held high above her head, her longish ginger hair had fallen over one shoulder, exposing her necklace in all its fine brilliance. As her warm, sweaty figure slipped up and down against mine, I watched the back of her throat, eyeing the necklace as it sparkled brilliantly in the dim lights. Studying intently the sparkly chain with it’s the hook in eye clasp.
She brought her hands down behind me back, crossing them behind me waist. My right hand went to the front of her waist, holding onto her squirming, satin slippery figure, pressing it tightly against me. My left hand went up to her shoulder, gliding along the glossy slick fabric of her black satin gown, until I reached her necklace. It only took seconds for my fingers to lift, and slip off the hook from its”eye” , letting the shimmering chain slither down the front side of Ginny’s satin clad breasts. My right hand left her waist, and travelled nimbly, tingling, all the way up the front until my fingers grasped the dangling chain. My left hand let go, and the necklace whisked down the front of her perking bosom, tightly covered by the glossy black satin bridesmaid gown. The whole bit of thievery took me only a few chords of the music, but it seemed a lot longer in the process. We finished out the song, me basking in the fact that my gyrating partner was innocently unaware that her shiny necklace was absent from around her throat, and now resided in her dance partners vest pocket.
We made our way back to the others, Brian had a smug look on his bearded face, I knew he was up to something. As I sat down, he whispered double it or nothing mate, that she notices it’s missing before we leave. I nodded, taking him up on it. So, the game was still on, and for the last two hours that we stayed at the reception, Brain waiting for Ginny to notice her missing necklace, I tried to distract her as much as I could, even with me sister constantly played with her necklace whenever she held Ginny’s attention, but the poor creature never caught on that her necklace had been lifted.
We finally left the reception after midnight and made our way along the ten city blocks back to the hotel where Ginny and my sister shared a joining room with Brian and meself. Ginny walked calmly with us, unaware of the devils that were us, keeping pace beside her. As were making our way through a short cut in a wooded Provincial park, we stopped in a small isolated glen and circled around Ginny. Sis was grinning as she asked poor unawares Ginny, So luv, whatever did happen to your necklace? Gin’s reaction was absolutely, rewardingly priceless.
Ginny, a relatively innocent soul, who is prone to believing most anything told to her, started, and her hand went to her throat, feeling about fruitlessly, as her rustling glossy gown and remaining jewels glistened dark in the full moons’ light. “M’ necklace, why it’s gone? , where did it go!, she pleaded helplessly, her thought patterns and speech a little slurred by her rather intoxicated condition. We than got into it, playing dumb along with her, and tried to figure out the “mystery” I said the last time I saw it was when that seedy bloke cut in, and I ran my hand up her back, feeling the shivers going down her spine, did the blighter touch you like that, then luv. No she said, then thought hard, no she repeated, he couldn’t have, he was a proper gentleman, and it was only rhinestone, like your sister said. My sister commented that the bloke may have not noticed no difference, and she held out her own necklace, I’m glad the bloke didn’t ask me to dance. No, Ginny shook her head, her long earrings flickering a frenzied fire out from her hair, no one could have lifted them like that, I’d have felt it….
She looked desperately around at us, then seeing the look on upon our faces, Ginny froze with the realization that we had all been up to something, and, then a smile of relief showed up on her pretty face, as I held up her necklace, sparkling in front of her eyes. A sly look of understanding that we had been up to something crept into those dazzling green eyes , as she told us now to spill it out.
We explained the whole tale as sis helped Ginny place her necklace back on. Ginny, with her usual good humor, said she had never noticed a thing, and it probably was a good thing we weren’t real thieves, because if her necklace had been real, it would have been worth a small fortune. And shame on us for having her believe it was that poor blighter in the red shirt.
We wouldn’t’ make very good thieves I agreed we drink too much. She just smiled, a curious gleam creeping up into those witchy green eyes of hers. Let’s get going before we meet a real thief then, urged my sister, all this talk about someone thinking our jewels are real is giving me the chills.
Our drunken little group then merrily, if not a little more guardedly, made our way home..
This next bit is my favorite.
We rode the elevator up to the boy’s room, as the girls called our room, where we drank beer, danced to music and talked on a bit about the reception. The girls stayed in dress and I happily soaked up the pretty picture the pair of admirably attractive girls presented with their long sheets of straight hair just hanging down, their diamonds sparkling and all other assorted frills enticing. About two hours later found Brian and myself sitting on the couch in kind of a hazy stupor while holding onto our beers. Ginny and my sister were standing directly in front of us, holding beers of their own and giggling over some girlish nonsense, the swaying of their long glossy black satin gowns slowly putting me to sleep.
Brain, draining a beer, got up to get another, bumping against my sister and playfully grabbing a handful. My sister started giggling at him as he sauntered off grinning, turning her figure so the brooch at the center of her gowns’ waistline almost hit me on the nose. Half asleep I reached over and lifted it up.
Looking up at the girls I saw that neither was paying no never mind towards me. Ginny, however, laid a hand on my twins shoulder, drawing her close so she could whisper some girlish secret about Brian. I continued on, and was able to undo the brooch, and slip it carefully off without notice. I slipped her jewel into my pocket; until I could think of what it was I was going to do with it to tease me twin sister.
Brian stopped on the way back and reset the music, a slow song. Sis went to him, and the pair started dancing. I rose and taking Ginny by the hand, followed suit, leading her to the bit of a dance floor we had cleared. She was again, pure heaven in my arms as my hands slipped liberally up and down her smooth, slinky gowned figure. Ginny smiled, I knew that smile, and realized that something was going on behind her pretty green eyes. She flicked back her sheet of ginger hair, and leaned against me. I saw you, she whispered, her voice putting a tickle in my ear. Saw me I asked, not getting it. I saw you lift that dame’s diamond brooch, Ginny said in a sultry voice as she looked over towards where my sister was dancing, (no, she was actually swooning), in Brian’s arms. You see that one over there, in the black dancing with the bearded gent? I looked over, as she continues, look at ‘er necklace, I have a fancy for it, and if you don’t want me to call security, I suggest you get it for me, darling, she said, like she was some old time actress in a movie. I loved the devilishness of Ginny’s role play idea and threw me whole heart and soul into it.
Check out the Sonia clip shortcut at the end of my tale( recommend viewing)
Now wide awake, I got fully into Ginny’s game. As we continued dancing my eyes watched Brian and me sister, taking careful inventory of all her sparkling jewelry. Sis turned, and caught my eyes looking her over, she blushed, and not knowing what was really going through my mind, smiled at me. As I smiled back, my eyes drinking her fetchingly attired figure up, I was imagining that all of her ample collection of rhinestones so prettily positioned on her figure, were real diamonds. And that I was an actual thief after her lovely sparklers. I looked into Ginny’s eyes. You have a deal miss, I whispered, making my voice deep and throaty, as I imagined meself as Humphrey Bogart type character in some shadowy film noir movie.
The song ended and a second, even slower one began playing. Brian and my sister were still locked into each other’s arms, but I felt that the time to make my move was now. Throwing Ginny a wink, I went over and cut in, Brian looked drunkenly at me like “whattsup chap,” but Ginny was right behind and swirled him away before he could properly react.
And as I took the pretty, wide eyed with innocence looking “dame” into my arms I found it exciting that she was oblivious to my intentions. Naïvely unaware, that in indifference to her own words earlier, someone did now want to nick the jewelry so merrily dangling from her svelte figure. Don’t forget at this point she was no longer my sister, but my sweet victim, and I was nothing more than a thief hungering after her bright baubles, albeit, a slightly inebriated thief!
I bided my time, appearing to look into my twins half opened eyes ( she was really lit by this time, as we all were) , my mind was working overtime on how to best approach my objective.
Employing the same method that the thief had used in the Gilligan’s Island episode to remove his dance partners necklace, I began to compliment my twin on how devastating her and Ginny looked both looked that evening (no lies), slowly moving my one hand up the slick material of the gown covering her back until I reached the dangling part of her hook and eye necklace with its’ glittering row of single “diamonds”. She ate it up, blushing and closing her eyes, tilting her head down, exposing even more of the back of her throat, and laying bare the chain of her “diamond” necklace. As she fawned over my words of (not false) praise, I subtly lifted up the chain of her necklace, holding her ever so her tightly around the waist. As I felt the heat emanating from her figure, I used my free left hands’ fingers to unhooked the clasp, and let the necklace fall over her one shoulder. Sis never felt it hanging, or noticed it as I peeled it off her chest (whisking along smooth as silk) and pulled it over her gown’s satin shoulder till it slipped sparkling down behind her. I held it hanging behind her back for a few turns, still pouring out the compliments, until I pocketed it, letting it join her purloined brooch.
Meanwhile, Brian had left Ginny to go to the loo, and I saw Ginny, who had been watching all of it, give me a wink. Then she turned and stole out the apartment door, her longish slinking gown slipping through behind her as she closed the door. I made ready to make some excuse to break away from my sister and head after her with my loot.
But just as I opened my mouth to make that excuse , Sis pulled her arms behind me head, and laid her own head back on my shoulder and closed her tired eyes, getting into the music’s deep beat. One of her longish rhinestone earrings just hung there sparkling, mocking me to touch it, and like Gingers diamonds, was ripe for the picking.
With the prize within my grasp, I momentarily forgot about the departing Ginny, and I made my move. I found meself trembling a bit, as I reached up and placed my hands gently alongside her ear, her eyes still shut, my victim smiled. The rest of the maneuver was surprisingly easy, as I glided my fingers down and slipped it off the earring in one effortless motion. The sparkling beauty came away from her sweaty ear as smoothly as an ice cube moves along a steaming hot grill ( I actually did have a thought like that). I held it in one fist for a bit, watching my victim, she had not felt so much as a tickle on her earlobe, as I had taken her earring. Relishing in my success, I looked at it dangling and shimmering in my hand behind her back. Then I secured her diamond away. I thought about trying for the other, but thought better of it, knowing Ginny was just waiting on the other side of the door.
I finished out the dance, taking my sisters hand with its dazzling bracelet and rings, and admired them while I kissed it. I’d better be off after Ginny I said, and then let go of her hand. Nice doing business with you I said, bemused as I watched the puzzlement creep into her eyes. That is how I left her.
However it was my turn to look puzzled as I went out, Ginny was nowhere to be seen. I quickly looked around, then headed to the elevator and rode down in it, alone at this early morning hour, to the lobby.
I arrived there, and at first the lobby appeared deserted, cept for a lonely desk clerk with her head buried in a novel. Then breathed a sigh of relief, there, around a corner, Ginny stood talking to some older lady wearing a garish grey pant suit, with this blue tinted helmet of curly hair covered by a large silk head scarf, and carrying an overlarge purse. I suddenly realized that now my anxiety had gone, another urge had taken its place. Ginny looked up, and smiles happily at me, and I smiled back, indicated that I had to go for a minute, and headed meself to the loo.
Coming out after I finished, I saw that the lobby was actually now really empty, not even the desk clerk was visible. Thinking Ginny may have gone back upstairs, I first went to the hotels double doors to chance a look outside onto the street below. I just caught sight of a wisp of black gown moving just out of sight past the stairs, on the now smoggy sidewalk below.
I headed out, and there was Ginny walking with the Blue haired stranger, they appeared to be looking for something. I started wondering if Ginny had invited this stranger to go on out walk with us? But no, apparently the blue haired lady in the unfortunate grey pantsuit had discovered her keys were missing, and thought they had dropped somewhere after getting out of a taxi just around the corner. And Ginny, bless her kind heated soul, had offered to help the distressed lady look for them.
As Ginny was telling me all this after I had caught up, the blue haired older lady , her cheerful face now stern, had started rummaging in her large shoulder bag, I sneaked a peek over her shoulder and saw that is contained quite an amazing assortment of items , ( no wonder it had to be so big). Suddenly she uttered an exclamation, found them she said, triumphantly pulling out an interesting assortment of skeleton type keys on a small ring. Happily smiling at Ginny, she pulled her into an enveloping hug for her efforts, before quickly leaving, but not without first giving me a sidelong glance with a disapproving look from her now pursed–lipped mouth as she passed. But I at the time put it down as her just being stressed out from believing she had misplaced her keys.
I am so glad she found her keys remarked Ginny, taking up me hand. That lady was ever so nice, she wanted to know where I had been dressed up all pretty like I am, and when I told her about the wedding, she said it must have been lovely. Then she admired me dress, and rhinestones. Then asked if me ruby ring was a gift from the bride. Liked your ring huh, I asked Ginny, my mind clearing up a little. Oh yes she said, lifted my hand, looked at it an everything!
Then the poor dear missed her keys, and asked if I could be a dear and help her look outside, and that was that until you showed up. (Looking outside for keys at 2:30 in the morning? I thought to myself) As I said ti Ginny, it is a pretty ring, and taking her arm, we started down the block together.
My mind, now somewhat attuned to the reality of things, went back to the blue haired lady and her large shoulder bag. Among some of various items I had seen had been a penknife, a length of old silk sash cord, small bundle of lacy handkerchiefs, and a small torch! Then add in the odd assortment of keys on her “misplaced” keyring, and put it all together, it all began to sum up to a new, slightly more sinister meaning of her intentions, in my take on the episode.
As we walked, I said nothing in reply to the happily chirping, richly attired girl walking beside me , as for the first time, and not the last, I wondered if something had been afoot with the Blue Haired, pursed mouthed lady that Ginny had seen as a kind older lady needed help, like the bird with a broken wing she had tried to help a few days past( a blue jay!). So was the blue haired lady, with the silk scarf and wearing a rather unisexual pantsuit, acting out the part of a “blue jay”, using her “broken wing” as a ruse to lure my Ginny safely away for her own nefarious reasons?
Surreptitiously, I carefully checked over Ginny from head to heeled toes as we walked, to make sure nothing was amiss. Her rhinestones were still safely all in their place, but I did not see the ruby ring, and me heart went still, and chills prickled down my spine! Bullocks! I swore under my breath, that pucker faced tart walked away with it. Ginny, I said, a little choked, she swirled facing me, her green eyes questioning, as she raised her hand to her perked breasts, and there it was, the small, but rather pricey, ruby ring she so loved wearing, the glittery darling had turned around on her finger so it was hidden from my view
.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, I just wanted to say how lovely you looked this evening my lass, I said saving myself. She smiled winningly, giving me a deep hug for my words. We walked on, as my beating heart slowed down, I convinced myself that maybe the incident of lost keys had all been harmless, and I was just being a worry-wort. I apologized silently for what I had called the fashion challenged blue haired lady in my mind. But I was still beginning to feel like ever a fool to have let Ginny, handsomely decked out as she was, out of my sight at this early hour of the morning.
I opened my mind and let all such thoughts flee my head, for the world was now ours, as we made our journey together, hand in hand. We ended up making a very long stroll in the Provincial Park, and reentering the same isolated, secret glen we had been in earlier, proceeded to continue acting out the role playing game we had started at the apartment.
Ginny went to the middle of the clearing to wait, pretending she was smoking, like a moll from a gangster movie. I circled and watched her sparkling figure, black in the glens shadows, move about a bit.
And as I did, my thoughts wondered a bit, and I remember reflecting ( not for the first time) how in the older black n whites, the heroine, or villainous, is always wearing gowns, elegant long gloves, and jeweled to the sparkling hilt. Then she walks alone to and then waits in some dark alley or other desolate spot for her contact, or hero to show up, much like Ginny was acting out now. So how is it that those fancy dressed and well jeweled unescorted dames, always manage to get to those spots, and are able to wait around in them alone, in those movies, and nary ever meet a ruffian who strips them of those pricy looking sparklers they are flaunting about? Just saying!
Saying a brief prayer that my thoughts were not tempting a fate of that type to occur to us now that I had been thinking it, I came out of the shadows and approached Ginny. Keeping my left hand in my pocket like I was carrying a heater. Hey sister, I said, been waiting long? No, she whispered, did you get the goods. Hot as ice I said proudly, producing the necklace and earring I had liberated from the dancing “dame”.
As I showed Ginny my take from “the dame”, she squealing over the fact I was able to take one of her diamond earrings, bonus she chanted. We laughed over what the “dames” reaction would be when the jewels were discovered missing. As we snickered, Ginny caught my eyes and then we got off on a tangent about jewel thieves in love, and ended up reenacting the “lure” scene from the movie ‘To Catch a Thief” ending up producing fireworks of our own making as Ginny lost all her jewels as well as her “innocence”.. We then made our way back home, as the cock crows, receiving a few odd looks from the occasional early morning lorry drivers.
And above all, I still remember feeling pretty bloody cocky as Ginny and I had sauntered our way to the park. And why not, I ask? Cause not only did I get to stroll about with the most captivating ginger haired lass, sparkling in fancy dress around, But I also had totally scored a hat trick in the jewelry lifting department, collecting two Quid to boot, and that’s what life is all about for us boys, winning the game, isn’t it?
So ends my story, of which I have written 2 versions.
My question is now this:
Which version, if one reads both, do you believe to be the truer?
Please leave a comment at the end of the story you believe is..
In appreciation,
Thank You
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In Appraisal
Tis story may be unique in its nature, but if not we would love to hear about it. Please leave a comment or drop an email ( or both) about you own experience.
Thank You
The Sonia clip shortcut ( recommend viewing)
youtu.be/HAZdjhNVjxk
Another realization of MultiOutLiners project www.lightpainters.com/archive/lpwa/publication/115/index.htm
Wanna draw with light alike pen on paper? Check link above :)
Background lighting by Nikolay Trebukhin @yo_hoho
#lpwalliance #lpwapro #lightpainting #multioutliners
B)eSketch 2011. Poster design study created for my friend Debbie from Chicago. She always says "Think Outside the Box". Thanks my friend for the inspirational words. B))
limited editon print
info about this print on my blog:
jenniferdavisart.blogspot.com/2010/04/prints.html
"Dark Art"
A group show of limited edition fine art prints by Carles Gomila, Jennifer Davis, Jesse Leroy-Smith, Kevin Earl Tayor, Natalie Shau, Russ Mills, Sylvia Ji, Zoe Lacchei at vidrART in Ciutadella de Menorca, Spain.
Nov 27-Dec 31, 2009.
more info about the show here:
jenniferdavisart.blogspot.com/2009/11/dark-art-group-show...
"Art is creative for the sake of realization, not for amusement. For transfiguration, not for the sake of play.”
~Max Beckmann
23.04.15
Today I had a bit of a realization. Lately I've been feeling a little paniced before I go to work. At first I thought it was because of my new job. But that didn't make sense because I love this job and the people I work with. Today I finally understood that these panic feelings are because of this project. Right now I'm working closing shift so by the time I get off it's already dark. I personally prefer shooting in the evening. And without a vehicle to use during the day I've been limited to locations within walking distance. I personally want to be creating my best, but I don't feel like I have. I'm glad I had most of the day to reflect on this. Now that I understand a bit more of myself right now I think I can find a way to change those feelings up. Even so there is always a reason for me to go shoot, to keep moving forward, I don't let something so silly and trivial get in my way of creating. And hey all of you lovely faces are the biggest push around the corner to keep me going. I really don't say this enough, but thank you. Thank you sooooo much! You might not know how much every single one of you effect my life, and I can't even beging to explain it. And a simple thank you isn't great enough. But it's all I can say right now.
Thank you!
(Also if any one you want to her my nit picky problems with this one keep reading, if not have a great night. Today I spent almost two hours walking in the forest and couldn't even find the right location for this concept. Which is all fine and dandy, I actually love walking in the forest. BUT I WORE THE WORST PANTS FOR IT! I should have worn my blue jean. I just should have :p I wanted a bit of a colder look ya see, and these pants, which out thinking, made it impossible. So instead I made it a lot warmer and happy and it all worked out.)
Night :)
"Your own self-realization is the greatest service you can render to the world." -Ramana Maharshi
I was amazed when I got back to edit this photograph to find that of the several variations I took every single one has a duplicate moon! I Googled to research about it and apparently it is a rare phenomena where elements in the atmosphere like temperature, moisture and dust need to be just right for it to occur. It's called a Ghost Moon. Truly divine.
There are certain things, or many things in life that when captured on a photograph, hold a significant meaning but the person witnessing that moment feels the true feeling surrounding that particular event.
The adventures of Samurai Boba Fett continue...
A planet is facing a terrible zombie infection and the local government hired the best Bounty Hunter to deal with "certain situations".
Accompanied by a unit of the local planetary defense forces he investigates a location of a major zombie infestation (his samurai Mandalorian armor protects him from any contagion, of course).
Suddenly they are attacked by a group of zombies. They quickly dispatch them until a sort of "augmented" zombie enters the scene slaughtering the local militia with ease.
It swings his deadly claws at the Bounty Hunter but before they can hit their target its face meets the barrel of Boba's blaster.
"Farewell, zombie" He says and he presses the trigger disintegrating the zombie's head.
The only survivor of the Planetary Defense Force unit looks at him in shock and awe.
Boba turns to him and calmly says: "I removed the 'un' form undead" and walks away...
Boba Fett is the amazing Bandai Tamashii Nations Movie Realization Ronin Boba Fett action figure. The zombie is Zombie Sabretooth from Marvel Zombies made by Diamond Select.
Samurai Boba Fett will be back soon :)
I hope you like this photo :)
May the Force be with You :)
HELIAR Vintage Line 50mm F3.5
フォクトレンダーのレンズです、昔は営業写真のレンズとして重宝されました。
オールドレンズの中でもあまりボケることなく現行レンズのようにスッキリ撮影でき、小さなレンズで軽く持ち運び便利。F３.５なのでピントも素早く来て嬉しいレンズです。撮影したい時、気付いた時にさっと撮影できるいい奴みたい。なぜかこのレンズをつけていると色々な人がこのレンズは何かと必ず聞いてくる人気者のレンズです
Riding every day on the Tokyo railways brings me to a disturbing realization:
Everywhere I looked, people were on cell phones. Not talking, of course... That is rude and highly discouraged in public trains. No, they were furiously texting or playing a game, listening to music, or browsing the web- looking almost oblivious to the world around them.
Quite often, the normal rider will slip into the train, purposely looking down and to the side to avoid all eye contact and acknowledgement - find an empty seat, and whip out their entertainment or communication device of choice, transporting themselves to a seeming dimension of obfuscation.
In Japan, a common saying is "The nail that sticks out gets hammered down." Standing out, or being loud, or being too unique seems to draw a stigmatic attention. So rather than be outward, many have become technologically introverted.
What an interesting new society of satellite socialism.
This is the state of Japan.
* Explored May 2nd, 2009. Yay! *
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My thanks to Arindam Raha for his primate pic via Pexels. A big banana to aka Tman for his selfie and silliness. All transformations via Juxtaposer and Snapseed apps
Art house Leidse Rijn Utrecht Netherlands - 2004-2010
Stanley Brouwn - artist - idea
Bertus Mulder - architect - realization
Samurai Vader is back to action.
The Daimyo from a Feudal System far, far away has been informed of a threat to his dominion.
An vicious creature is on the lose intended of consuming anything it runs into.
Usual business, after all.
It doesn’t take long for Vader to locate this Alien intruder and the two warriors clash in battle.
The Alien charges but Vader Force pushes the creature away. The creature strikes back, swinging his deadly tail at his opponent but Vader ignites his Lightsaber (or Lightkatana, if you prefer) and severs part of its tail.
The alien screams in pain but it shrugs off the damage and hurls at Vader.
He quickly unsheathe his Vibro-katana and strikes at the creature’s swinging arm. The impact breaks the bone and only its exoskeleton protects it from another amputation.
The counterattack throws the alien off balance and Vader seizes the opportunity. He lashes his Lightsaber inflicting a wide wound on the creature’s chest.
The alien collapses on the ground.
Vader plunges his Lightsaber in the creature’s neck and with a swift movement he chops off its head.
The threat has been neutralized. His scientists will undergo the necessary analysis and investigation on this creature’s appearance within his dominion. He suspects something, or someone, is indeed involved in this situation but now he has other pressing matters to deal with.
His presence is required elsewhere because without his iron grip the whole dominion will fall into chaos.
Vader is the amazing Samurai Vader action figure made by Bandai. The full “designation” is Tamashii Nations Movie Realization Samurai Taisho (General) Darth Vader, Death Star Armor version, just because the name was not long enough lol :)
The Alien is a Xenomorph Warrior action figure by Neca. It is actually a version based on the Dark Horse comics and it comes it the same pack with the Predator action figure I recently posted two photos of.
I hope you like this photo :)
May the Force be with You :)
Lakeshrine self realization center. Leave your pirate persona and vocabulary in the car. BTW I think they add color to the water. Don't ask me how.
I as I walked the grounds of The International Headquarters of Self-Realization Fellowship, I came across this lovely spot. I could have spent hours there just sitting and listening to the birds chirping. I had my family with me so of course that did not happen..............lol
Standing in the sun
and as bright as can be...
are the lies that leave a grainy film before our eyes.
Unwilling to assend and become truth realized,
in fear of the devastation that will most definitely arrise.
Where the Land dance mat is a realization of Yves Gendreau. This imposing work of art is installed at the Quays of the Promenade Samuel-De Champlain.
River inspired mats
The work consists of nine rods tricolores more than thirteen feet high, whose top reminiscent of a boat mast. Decorated with vanes, radar reflectors and airspeed, the installation evokes the relationship with the river. Where the Land dance mat is a nod to the navigation and its importance for the destiny of Quebec .
"Rights and planted in the ridges and troughs of the waves of this vast land area which overlooks the river, stands a series of light poles. Same length, they lie in continuing the wave created by the terrain. The beauty of the landscape and traffic on the rise establish dynamic relationships with these objects. Holders of several levels of meaning and possible interpretation, the provision of masts and the arrangement of colors create a sensory experience varies according to different scales of approach. "
Yves Gendreau
Always humored the running joke of Pan Am being a railroad that had low track speeds, but yesterday trip to the capital region proves it. Heres RJED with a pair of worn out ex CSX D8Ws doing the hot speed of 10 past the abandoned Johnsonville tower.
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This photographic story was made on the occasion of the "Laurel and Sacred Oils festival" which took place this year 2022 on Easter Monday in the Sicilian town of Forza D'Agrò (in the province of Messina), after a long stop due to the Covid-19 pandemic; this is a traditional event that has taken place for centuries with changes that have come about over the years, in fact once the population of Forza D'Agrò went in procession to the Norman monastery of Saints Peter and Paul where the Holy Oils were kept: this church is located in the village of Casalvecchio Siculo (Forza D'Agrò and Casalvecchio Siculo are located on two mountains, the two villages are visible to each other, since in ancient times this represented a very fast means to be able to communicate visually between them, in case of raids by Saracen pirates), this church was built by the Normans, it was originally located on the opposite side of where it is now located, this is because a flood of the Agrò river had endangered this structure, which had also been sacked by the Arabs, it was decided to secure it, it was completely dismantled, and then rebuilt, on the opposite side and further up from the river bed); the feast then took place when Roger II, called the Norman, granted the abbot Cerasino the possibility of rebuilding this abbey (diploma of donation of 1117), but not only ... the monks of this abbey were, again by Roger II, equipped with some fixed income, and even the complete ownership of an entire village, the current Forza D'Agrò, was given to them, with absolute power of the monks over the things and people of the village. Then, the Sacred Oils were brought from this Abbey to the church of San Michele Arcangelo (today a ruin) which is located in a district of Forza D'Agrò, with the population who used to adorn themselves for this procession with colored silk ribbons, to which over time, laurel branches were added, also carried by devotees in procession. The festival is essentially based on three strongly symbolic elements, the laurel, the Holy Oil, and the "cuddure". "The laurel" represents the "victory of Christ over Death", in fact the festival takes place on the "Day of the Angel, during the Easter period", a day that recalls that the Resurrection of Christ took place; laurel is a strongly symbolic and fragrant plant, it is used in this context, for elaborate compositions that adorn "the banners", they can be small because they are made by children, up to very large and high (difficult to hold up when there is wind due to the strong "sail effect" they cause), are made with load-bearing structures made of cane or wood, which serve to hold the fabrics on which they are sewn one by one, laurel leaves, creating drawings of a religious nature, banners that participate in a competition for the best realization (each banner in fact carries a number, as a reference for the voting jury); "Holy Oil", an element used for anointing the sick and invoking their healing, represents "redemption from sin" and "spiritual healing", is carried in procession, also a symbol of the Holy Spirit who embraces the body and soul of man and that refers to Christ, "the Anointed"; finally "the cuddure" (they are small circular loaves, with naturally leavened intertwined and dough, on which a symbol is imprinted), and they symbolize "prosperity", but also "charity", and that is why the brothers of the SS. Trinity distribute them to the people present at the feast as a sign of gift. This year, however, due to the restrictions of Covid-19, the "cuddure" did not take place, the "blessing of the Holy Oils" was performed in the Mother Church, and not in the characteristic square in the center of the town , while the procession was made along a short route, and not along the traditional route which, after having crossed the center of the town, then circumscribes it along its entire periphery. As explained above, this festival is also called "'a festa d'u d'auru" (the laurel feast), or "' the feast of cudduredde" (the feast of small donut-shaped loaves); the "banners awarding" will close this characteristic feast, to the great joy of all those who participated.
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Questo racconto fotografico, è stato realizzato in occasione della “festa dell’Alloro e degli Oli Sacri” che si è svolta quest’anno 2022 il giorno del Lunedì dell’Angelo nel paese siciliano di Forza D’Agrò (in provincia di Messina), dopo un lungo stop a causa della pandemia da Covid-19; è questo un evento tradizionale che si svolge da secoli con delle modifiche che sono venute a crearsi negli anni, infatti un tempo la popolazione di Forza D’Agrò andava in processione fino al monastero normanno dei Santi Pietro e Paolo ove erano custoditi gli Oli Santi: tale chiesa si trova nel paese di Casalvecchio Siculo (Forza D’Agrò e Casalvecchio Siculo si trovano su due monti, i due paesi sono visibili l’un l’altro, poiché anticamente questo rappresentava un mezzo rapidissimo per poter comunicare visivamente tra loro, in caso di scorribande di pirati saraceni), tale chiesa fu costruita dai Normanni, essa originariamente si trovava sul versante opposto rispetto a dove è situata ora, questo perchè una piena del fiume d’Agrò aveva messo in pericolo tale struttura, ma essa era anche stata saccheggiata dagli Arabi, si decise così di metterla in sicurezza, fu smontata completamente, per poi essere riedificata, sul versante opposto e più distante in alto rispetto al letto del fiume); la festa quindi ebbe luogo quando Ruggero II, detto il Normanno, concesse all’abate Cerasino la possibilità di riedificare tale abazia (diploma di donazione del 1117), ma non solo…i monaci di tale abazia furono, sempre da Ruggero II, dotati di alcuni redditi fissi, ed addirittura venne data a loro la completa proprietà di un intero villaggio, l’attuale Forza D’Agrò, con assoluto potere dei monaci su cose e persone del villaggio. Quindi, gli Oli Sacri venivano portati da tale Abazia alla chiesa di San Michele Arcangelo (oggi un rudere) che si trova in una contrada di Forza D’Agrò, con la popolazione che anticamente usava adornarsi per tale processione con nastri di seta colorati, ai quali col tempo, sono andati ad aggiungersi i rami di alloro, portati anche questi dai devoti in processione. La festa si basa essenzialmente su tre elementi fortemente simbolici, l’alloro, l’Olio Santo, e le “cuddure”. “L’alloro” rappresenta la “vittoria del Cristo sulla Morte”, infatti la festa si svolge il “Giorno dell’Angelo” durante il periodo Pasquale, giorno che rievoca che è avvenuta la Resurrezione del Cristo; l’alloro è una pianta fortemente simbolica e profumata, essa viene utilizzata in questo contesto, per elaborate composizioni che adornano “gli stendardi”, i quali sono dei drappi-vessilli, possono essere di piccole dimensioni perché realizzati dai bambini, fino a molto grandi ed alti (difficili da reggere quando c’è vento per il forte “effetto vela” che essi causano), sono realizzati con delle strutture portanti fatte di canna o di legno, che servono a reggere le stoffe sulle quali vengono cucite una ad una, le foglie di alloro, realizzando dei disegni di carattere religioso, stendardi che partecipano ad una gara per la migliore realizzazione (ogni stendardo infatti porta un numero, come riferimento per la giuria votante); “l’Olio Santo” è un elemento usato per l’unzione dei malati ed invocarne la guarigione, rappresenta la “redenzione dal peccato” e la “guarigione spirituale”, viene portato in processione (insieme a delle foglie di alloro), anch’esso simbolo dello Spirito Santo che abbraccia corpo ed anima dell’uomo e che rimanda a Cristo, “l’Unto”; infine “le cuddure” (sono dei piccoli pani di forma circolare, con la pasta lievitata naturalmente ed intrecciata, su cui è impresso un simbolo), esse simboleggiano la “prosperità”, ma anche la “carità”, è per questo che i confrati della SS. Trinità li distribuiscono alle persone presenti alla festa in segno di dono. Quest’anno però, a causa delle restrizioni causate dal Covid-19, le “cuddure” non si sono fatte, la “benedizione degli Oli Santi” è stata eseguita nella Chiesa Madre, e non nella caratteristica piazza che si trova nel centro del paese, mentre la processione è stata fatta lungo un breve percorso, e non lungo il percorso tradizionale, molto più lungo, che dopo aver attraversato il centro del paese, poi lo circoscrive lungo tutta la sua periferia. Per quanto esposto prima, tale festa viene chiamata anche "a’ festa d'u d'auru" (la festa dell'alloro), oppure "a’ festa di cudduredde" (la festa dei piccoli pani a forma di ciambella); la "premiazione degli stendardi" chiude questa caratteristica festa, tra la grandissima gioia di tutti coloro che vi hanno partecipato.
52 Weeks of 2020
Week No. 50: Local Tradition
Category: Creative
Flickr Lounge “Season's Greetings"
Every year the Self Realization Fellowship in Encinitas decorates for Christmas. It is a beautiful place and all decked out, it is a gorgeous sight to behold.
My images are posted here for your enjoyment only. All rights are reserved. Please contact me through flickr if you are interested in using one of my images for any reason.
Mike Wazowski comes to a shocking realization about the dangers of him venturing into the human world!
"Cousin Phil, what did they do to you?!"
Can't figure out if I like this shot or the other one better...
That moment when you realize that the woman reflecting in the mirror at Target is actually you!
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¡El momento en que te percatas de que la mujer que se refleja en los espejos en Target, eres tú!
41/365
Realizing something about yourself is easy, changing it is hard. But that is what I have intended to do. Change myself. I have finally realized what I am doing to myself now, it is not good. I don't want to say too much about it, but it is mostly about procrastinating waay to much. That will ruin most things, including photography.
The last week now that I have had vacation, most of my days have been like this; go to bed at 4 o'clock in the morning, wake up at 1 o'clock the day after, watch desperate housewives for the next 4 hours, eating dinner THEN go out shooting. And it just does not work this way anymore. I realized that today, because I wanted to shoot the sunset, so I hurried up just to find out the sun had already set. Then I found myself in great frustration thinking WHAT THE HELL DO I DO NOW?! I ended up trying to take some self portraits, then I went to the water and I bathed with a dress. Theeen, finally.. This. Done. Shooted at midnight. I do not want to do this with myself anymore. I am making the 365 way harder than it really is.
(sorry about this long boring description)
Realization hits her and she falls to the ground, her face in her hands, her heart torn to pieces, memories racing through her mind, the early morning snuggles, the breakfast in bed, late night movie dates, now all of that was gone, there was no fixing things , no winning her back now.
I love cinematic photos, and particularly shots that seamlessly integrate models with their environment. I want to believe that the model actually belongs in whatever setting is being depicted. It's much the same sense you get watching a good movie. If it's skillfully done, you lose all sight of the fact there there is a production company and camera crews surrounding the actors. You buy into the concept that you are watching real life; for that time reality is suspended. I was having much the same feeling in a session I did with JillyJames in a windswept cornfield. My imagination had produced a concept somewhere between the Wizard of Oz and Children of the Corn. I've had a lifelong fascination with scarecrows ever since seeing one as a child (and resembling one in real life). Whether or not they actually kept birds away from gardens was irrelevant. All that mattered to me was seeing the effigy of a human figure standing up in the middle of a field of crops. And in particular the thought that they remained there all summer, rain or shine, night and day, growing progressively more weatherbeaten by the day. This shot became the adult realization of my childhood imagination. And best of all I realized it as it was unfolding. Unlike some sessions where the import is not recognized until long after, I was right where in the moment shooting like a crazed person, intent on missing nothing. This image gives me the sense, not of a posed model, but rather of discovering an organic scene. There's a sense of intrigue as to what's going on here, a trance like state, a dark meditation, maybe some sort of witchcraft. Darkness, eeriness, but strangely compelling. Shooting up through the stalks gives a sense of a hurried, surreptitious photo, a voyeuristic feeling of seeing something not meant to be seen.
Watch the video created with scenes from this shoot on youtube: www.youtube.com/watch?v=JBOvjZI3mkc
See more of model JillyJames (in much less somber settings) here: www.modelmayhem.com/4259916
The realization even though you got to school early, all your completed homework sits forgotten on your desk at home.
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Created for the All-Around Awesome Weekly Theme, FORGOTTEN. (Poor Mio!)
"It is a difficult thing to say in what ways can significance be determined. Stature or width or volume or height; all of them possibilities, but who knows what is right? The more I explore what I seem to find, is that nothing can stand up to the mind."
Kallur Lighthouse, Kalsoy, Faroe Islands
Nuestra Señora de Muskilda, Ochagavía, Navarra, España.
La Ermita de Nuestra Señora de Muskilda, se encuentra situada cercana a la población de Ochagavía, en la cumbre del monte Muskilda a poco más de 1000 metros de altura y enclavada en el valle de Salazar de la comunidad Foral de Navarra.
La construcción románica data del siglo XII, y se atribuye realizada durante el mandato del rey Sancho el Fuerte (1194-1234). El conjunto se compone además de la ermita, de una casa para el ermitaño y otra para el capellán, todo este recinto está rodeado por una pequeña muralla de piedra.
El templo lo constituye una planta rectangular con tres naves, la central con bóveda de cañón y las laterales con cuarto de bóveda, sostenidas por seis gruesas columnas cilíndricas en su parte inferior con decoración de besantes (medias bolas), forman estas columnas los arcos de separación entre las naves. En la parte de la cabecera hay un retablo con una inscripción de su realización en el año 1642, en su hornacina central se encuentra la imagen de la Virgen de Muskilda, patrona del valle, de estilo románico tardío o principio de gótico y sobre ella una representación de la Asunción y un Crucificado.
El presbiterio se encuentra separado de la nave central por una reja de hierro forjado del siglo XV. Tiene una sacristía adosada en la parte posterior de la cabecera tras el retablo, seguramente de reformas posteriores, las principales de las cuales se llevaron a cabo durante el siglo XVII. El primer tramo de la nave central, después del presbiterio, posee unas pinturas murales cubriendo toda su bóveda.
En la parte exterior se pueden observar unos gruesos contrafuertes en sus muros laterales que marcan los cuatro cuerpos en que se dividen las naves interiores. El edificio tiene dos puertas de entrada orientadas una al oeste, de 1671 y otra al sur, la principal, de estilo románico con cuatro arquivoltas sostenidas por pilastras lisas. Un rasgo característico es la torre de planta cuadrangular con una armoniosa cubierta cónica realizada con tablillas de madera,-que reciben el nombre de «oholak»– propia de las construcciones tradicionales de la zona. Hay un antiguo camino tradicional desde la iglesia de San Juan de Ochagavía en cuyo recorrido se encuentra las estaciones de un viacrucis.
Poco antes de la llegada a la ermita hay un pilar de piedra de cuatro metros de altura, en cuyo frente hay un hueco enrejado y en su interior una pequeña imagen de la Virgen con una inscripción grabada en la piedra que dice: «La villa de Otxagabia hizo hacer este Pilar, año 1654. Jesús María». Este pilar según Barber Arregui: «Sostiene la tradición que en su interior se halla el roble sobre el que se apareció la Virgen al pastor de casa Asa»".
The Hermitage of Our Lady of Muskilda, is located near the town of Ochagavía, on the summit of Mount Muskilda at just over 1000 meters high and nestled in the Salazar valley of the Foral de Navarra community.
The Romanesque construction dates from the 12th century, and is attributed to have been made during the mandate of King Sancho el Fuerte (1194-1234). The complex is composed in addition to the hermitage, a house for the hermit and another for the chaplain, all this enclosure is surrounded by a small stone wall.
The temple is made up of a rectangular floor plan with three naves, the central one with a barrel vault and the lateral ones with a quarter vault, supported by six thick cylindrical columns in the lower part with decoration of bezings (half balls), these columns form the arches of separation between the ships. In the part of the head there is an altarpiece with an inscription of its realization in the year 1642, in its central niche is the image of the Virgin of Muskilda, patron saint of the valley, late Romanesque or early Gothic style and on it a representation of the Assumption and a Crucified.
The presbytery is separated from the central nave by a 15th century wrought iron fence. It has a sacristy attached to the back of the chevet behind the altarpiece, probably from later reforms, the main of which were carried out during the seventeenth century. The first section of the central nave, after the presbytery, has some wall paintings covering its entire vault.
On the outside you can see some thick buttresses on its side walls that mark the four bodies into which the interior naves are divided. The building has two entrance doors, one to the west, from 1671 and the other to the south, the main one, in a Romanesque style with four archivolts supported by smooth pilasters. A characteristic feature is the tower with a quadrangular plan with a harmonious conical roof made of wooden slats - which are called "oholak" - typical of the traditional constructions of the area. There is an old traditional path from the church of San Juan de Ochagavía along which you will find the Stations of the Cross.
Shortly before arriving at the hermitage there is a stone pillar four meters high, in front of which there is a lattice hole and inside a small image of the Virgin with an inscription engraved in the stone that says: «The town of Otxagabia had this Pilar made, in 1654. Jesús María ». This pillar according to Barber Arregui: «The tradition maintains that inside is the oak on which the Virgin appeared to the shepherd of the Asa house» ".
Then comes the frustrating realization that no matter how long life endures, no matter how many experiences are muddled through in this existence, you may never really be able to answer the question…..
Who am I?
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdqY0sRvidc
Because the answer....
Like the seasons, constantly, subtly, inevitably changes.
And who it is you are today, is not the same person you will be tomorrow.
~ Richelle E. Goodrich , Eena, The Dawn and Rescue
© All rights reserved Anna Kwa. Please do not use this image on websites, blogs or any other media without my explicit written permission.
The realization set's in that you must live in a relatively remote area when a scene like this is roughly 15 miles from your home.
A long time ago in a feudal system far, far away…
A group of strange beings appeared on the planet talking about the coming of the judgement day.
The news reached one of the most influent daimyo but at first Lord Vader thought they were just a couple of annoying preachers.
He knows that kind pretty well and he usually “dispatch” them quickly when they knock at his fortress’ door but they rarely are something more serious than a momentary annoyance (Force chocking them always takes few seconds, after all lol ) and he had more pressing matter than dealing with door-to-door sellers of ideologies.
However these beings proved to be different. They appear to be synthetic lifeforms of the most aggressive kind and they started to kill those who, well, don’t share their point of view. The feudal lord can’t tolerate it. This is his dominion, after all
They are too powerful for his warriors and he decided to take care of them in person.
He meets the first of them in the outskirts of a village’s ruins. The creature starts to talk about the incoming judgment day but before he has a chance to complete its speech, Vader Force pulls the invader toward him and impales the synthetic body with his Lightsaber (or Light-Katana, if you prefer :) )
“Your final judgment comes today” He laconically says, ending the machine killer’s life.
This is my first photo featuring the Samurai Darth Vader action figure from Bandai.
The action figure is amazing like the Samurai Boba Fett one.
This the most recent version of the Samurai Darth Vader Action Figure from Tamashii Nations Movie Realization series and it’s officially called Samurai Taisho (general) Darth Vader Death Star Armor.
I hope you like the “debut” of Samurai Vader in this photo :)
I made a little "continuity error" here, since I forgot to remove Vader's Lightsaber hilt from his belt. Since he is using it the lightsaber shouldn't be on his belt. When I realized it the figures where already in the position and I didn't want to risk to move them. The positive aspect is the photo now shows the details of Vader Lightsaber Japanese hilt :)
The enemy is a Terminator 2 Endoskeleton figure I found on clearance at a trusted local store :)
May the Force be with You :)
A stick cracked to my left, sounding like a deafening yell in the serene silence of the forest.
I stopped, holding absolutely still, and was rewarded with the heart-warming sight of a doe and her calf making their way through the woods.
Smiling, I continued on my way after they passed, heading more or less in the vague direction of Durrough.
I had ditched the wagon several miles and two nights back, after coming to the realization that if someone was hunting me, it probably wasn’t the best idea to travel out in the open, driving a conspicuous wagon. Now, I was on foot, going through some of the more difficult, less traveled paths through the eastern-most portion of the Wandering Woods. It would take longer to reach my destination, but it would also draw less attention to myself, thus making it worth the longer journey.
Squaring my shoulders, I forged onwards.
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The next morning,
I awoke to something sharp jabbing into my back from beneath my bedroll. Groaning, I rolled over, and extracted……a rock.
Muttering in disgust, I threw the rock aside, and groggily disentangled myself from my cloak, which had been serving as my blanket, climbing to my feet with an audible cracking of joints.
“Well,” I said to no-one in particular, “Time to start the day I guess.”
I had killed a small rabbit with my crossbow last night, and I cooked him up now, along with a few edible greens I found near my campsite.
After breakfast, I packed up my bedroll, checked to make sure I still had that sealed letter, gathered my things, and kicked out the fire.
Then, I headed off in the same direction as yesterday. I estimated I only had another day at most before I reached Durrough. Fortified by this, (as well as that rabbit), I set off for another day of hiking.
Little did I know today was not going to be like the days before it.
————————————
A few hours later, I stopped for a rest, and possibly lunch, if I could find some game large enough to make a meal out of.
Making sure my crossbow was loaded, I began to stealthily advance through the woods, keeping a sharp eye out for prey. I spotted a couple of squirrels, but neither one was large enough to warrant taking a shot at.
Watching the second one run off, I detected movement out of the corner of my eye. Moving slowly, so as not to scare whatever it was, I turned towards the spot I saw movement from.
Expecting to find a deer, or even better, a wild hog, I was shocked to discover it was a BEAR!
I froze. The bear was staring right at me, not moving either.
As the seconds dragged on in our stand-off, I realized this wasn’t just any bear, it was a grizzly bear!
And to make matters worse, it was a very hungry-looking grizzly bear.
Keeping my eyes fixed on the bear, I began to slowly back away, taking micro-steps so as not to startle it into action. After a few steps, the bear began to move forward, as I moved back.
That was definitely not what I wanted the bear to do, and I realized this was not going to end peacefully.
Just as I was coming to this conclusion, the bear charged.
Given less then a second to react, I dropped and rolled to the side, feeling a rush of air as the bear breezed by. Rolling to my feet, I saw the bear stop and start to turn around, for another go at me. Pre-empting this, I turned and ran, as fast as my legs would carry me, hearing the bear charging up behind me.
Now, I know that everyone says the stupidest thing you can do when facing a bear is run, but A; not everyone is me, and B; I wasn’t trying to outrun the bear, I just needed a few seconds to get my shot, pardon the pun.
As I ran, I checked hastily that my crossbow was still loaded, and, finding it was, judged that the bear was too caught up in chasing me to slow down or avoid this, whipped around, bringing the crossbow to my shoulder, sighted, and pulled the trigger.
The bolt flew seemingly in slow motion, as the bear charged at me, straight into the grizzly’s right eye, killing him instantly.
The bear’s momentum kept his body moving forward, even as it started to hit the ground, forcing me to quickly step to the side, to avoid getting pinned as the corpse slid to a stop where I had been standing moments before.
I staggered against a nearby tree, sliding to the ground with my back against the trunk, staring at the bear’s corpse, feeling the adrenaline from my near-death experience pumping through my veins, and my breath coming in ragged bursts.
It was then, sitting on forest floor, waiting for my body to clam down, that the sound of rushing water penetrated my senses. I got up, and, turning around, surveyed my surroundings, which I hadn’t even registered yet.
My jaw dropped.
Hardly believing my eyes, I stepped out of the tree line.
I was on the bank of a river, that forked around the spit of land I was standing on. Both ends of the river wound away through the trees.
Directly across from me was the source of this river;
A magnificent (although not very large) waterfall, pouring majestically down the side of sheer rock face. The sound of it filled the air, which was the sound I had noticed minutes ago.
The rock face the waterfall poured over continued beyond to the right, slowly curving outward.
A huge old oak tree grew near this face, on the opposite bank. Over on my side, a large pile of boulders sat jumbled to my right, a tree growing up from their midst.
The whole area was overflowing with bright colors and abundant flora and fauna.
Looking around, I felt at peace for the first time in several days.
Putting down my crossbow, I flopped in the grass with a grateful sigh, content just to lay there in the soft grass for awhile.
As I lay there, I tried to come up with a suitable name for this hidden gem of the forest. Nothing I tried sounded right, and it wasn’t until I sat up and took another look at the place that the perfect name popped into my head.
“Heaven’s Lagoon,” I said out loud, trying it out. It fit perfectly.
It was then, as I was sitting there, enjoying the feeling of having this beautiful place all to myself, plus the fact I had just named it, when I noticed something I had missed before. Or maybe it hadn’t been there before, because I never missed anything.
Almost directly across from me was a cave.
As I stared at it, trying to figure out why I hadn’t seen it the first time I looked over there, I began to feel a strange sensation. It felt like the cave was calling to me, inviting and drawing me in.
That should have been more than enough warning to not go in the cave, but I had never been able to resist something like this.
So, curiosity getting the better of me, I got up, picking up my crossbow on the way, and moved to the edge of the bank, looking for a way across.
Finding it, I went over to the boulder pile, climbed up on the largest one, and, balancing carefully, hopped to a rock in the middle of the river, then over to the far bank, right in front of the cave.
Having reached my goal, I stopped to examine the cave opening. It was a little over six feet high, irregularly shaped. Other than that, there was nothing to suggest it was anything other then a normal cave. Anything besides that the tugging feeling in my gut had gotten stronger.
Fashioning a makeshift torch from a tree branch and some spare cloth I kept in a pocket, I took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
Instantly I was hit with a prickling sensation, a magic ward being tripped.
Damn, I thought, and then the cave walls disappeared.
————————
I am standing in the middle of a glade, surrounded by ages-old oak trees. A gentle breeze blows through, swirling leaves around, and tousling my hair. The afternoon sun shines down through the leaves, casting a golden light over everything. It would be the perfect day, if it weren’t for what I knew was about to happen.
Across the glade from me, shock mixed with horror etched on his face, stands my best friend, Trevor Mortlen. He has a hunting spear in one hand, as do I. Mine has the blood of a deer on the tip.
“S-Skye,” the other says, “What-how?”
At first, I am not quite sure what he is trying to say, then it dawns on me: He saw what I did, how I drew the spear back to me from the deer, twelve feet away, clear across the glade.
“Trevor,” I say calmly, forcing myself to look him in the eyes, “There’s something I’ve never told you about myself. I think it’s time I rectified that.”
I see the the hurt and fear in his eyes.
“I’m sorry Skye, but it’s too late for that. You’re not who I thought you were.” The other says, and begins to back away.
Panic starts to take told of me. I know how this ends. I know because I have relived this moment in my mind so many times, always trying to find an ending different than the one I know is about to happen, never being successful.
“Trevor,” I hear myself say, “Please, you must listen to me. It’s not what you think. I can explain everything, if you just let me.”
My plea falls on deaf ears.
“I’m sorry Skye,” he says again. “I don’t trust you anymore. You’re not someone who should be free to cause harm.”
Each word is like a dagger to my heart. I can barely believe what I’m hearing. This couldn’t be my Trev, the very best friend I had in this world. The person who meant so much to me.
“Please, “ I begged, tears beginning to blur my vision, “Trev, don’t do this.”
He looked at me with sadness in his eyes.
“I don’t want to. But I have to. I don’t know you anymore Skye.” And he turned away, heading out of the glade, bound for the sheriff’s office in our village.
I was torn apart in that moment, as Trevor turned his back on me. I knew if he reached the sheriff, my life, my parent’s life, maybe even my cousin’s lives, would be ruined, if not over completely.
There was only one way to stop this.
Only one way to ensure the safety of myself and my family.
Screaming my fury at the unfairness and helplessness of my situation, I throw the spear at my love’s back.
I could feel the scene beginning to change. Afraid of what I would be forced to relive next, I pushed against the memories, tearing myself free.
“NNNOOOOO!”
—————————
And then I was back in the real world, still standing in the same spot. My legs collapsed beneath me, and I barely managed to catch myself before I hit the floor.
Lifting my torch, I was able to clearly see now that the cave was man-made, probably by some old wizard with elemental powers, which would also explain the ward guarding the entrance.
Finding my mind starting to drift back to the memory that had been triggered, I forced myself to redirect, settling on the the fact that the tugging in my gut hadn’t lessened any, despite the ordeal I had just gone through.
Getting to my feet, crossbow in one hand, torch in the other, I cleared away my jumbled thoughts, and focused solely on the feeling.
It was definitely coming from deeper inside the cave, so despite my growing reservations, I allowed myself to be led into the bowels of the earth, winding downward, past branch tunnels and rooms, drawn ever deeper by the steadily increasing tugging, til' finally, I arrived at the end of the tunnel. Before me was an absolutely ancient oaken door, fastened into the rock via some very rusty iron hinges. The source of the tugging sensation was on the other side of that door, I was sure of it.
Studying the four rusty hinges, I set down my crossbow and torch, stretched out my hands, palms outward, and concentrated.
A second later, the hinges tore free of the rock and zoomed into my hands.
Smiling, I dropped the hinges on the ground, and, retrieving my torch and crossbow, kicked down the old door.
Beyond, the room inside was circular, about twelve feet in each direction, walls, floor, and roof all made of carved stone. Carved into the floor, all around the edge of the room, were strange runes, in a foreign language I didn’t understand. But that wasn’t what drew my attention the second I stepped into the room, nor was it the faded mural-like pattern scrawled across the back wall.
It was the perfectly symmetrical pedestal, placed in the exact center of the room, with a second ring of runes around it’s base.
Atop the pedestal sat………..a gleaming, perfectly polished nautilus shell.
I could instantly tell the tugging sensation was originating from the mysterious shell.
Why, I didn’t yet know.
I slowly approached the pedestal, as if in a trance, and reaching out, picked up the shell.
Instantly the tugging sensation disappeared. I turned the shell over in my hands, studying it. Other then being extra shiny, it didn’t appear any different than any other nautilus shell.
“So what caused the tugging feeling?” I asked into the silence, not really expecting an answer.
But I got one.
A faint sound became discernible in the room, and it seemed to be coming from the shell in my hand.
Lifting it to my ear cautiously, I was surprised to hear the sound of waves, mixed with the chirping of birds, (though I couldn’t tell what species they were from), along with other sounds I didn’t recognize. This close to my face, I noticed for the first time there was something different about this shell.
The stripes on the nautilus were translucent, and in the one closest to me, I could faintly see a beach, made of white sand.
I blinked, and the image was gone.
Shaking my head to clear it, thinking maybe I had imagined it, I turned away from the pedestal, placing the shell in a pocket on my belt.
It was then I realized, without the tugging feeling leading me, I had no idea where I was.
I was lost down here, in this maze of tunnels.
As this set in, my shadow flickered, and disappeared, as the room went dark.
My torch had just gone out.
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Previous Chronicle stories start here.
''A UFO has crashed on earth; strange pink creatures 'ALIENS' are appearing on the street.......Will you run and hide? Call the police? or will you come out to play?''
Does Oxygen work for them? How will they survive for breathing, if there is no Oxygen outside of our planet?!!
UFO= Unidentified Flying Object
LJUD group: The INVASION. This is a Slovenian performing group mainly focused on performing in public spaces.
Event: Stockholm Kultur Festival (16 -21 August), 2011 including Youth Festival (Ung 08)
See other pictures in Youtube: youtu.be/KBezfYTXbZY
Today (13-18 August), this year Stockholm Kultur Festival has just started. I am sharing some pictures from 2011 festival. I realize that I don't have that much pictures from street and event photography in my photostream!!! So trying to have some balances :)