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A snow-covered Mt. Cook reflected in the glassy waters of Lake Matheson in Fox Glacier, New Zealand. This is taken from a spot known as "Reflection Island" so named for pretty obvious reasons. I rarely add frames to images anymore but this one is such a postcard I simply couldn't resist :)
Although this is the Kiwi photographic equivalent to the Buachaille Etive Mor in Scotland this is a reflection that simply has to be photographed time and again. Virtually anyone can make this image provided you get up early enough, walk to the location and are blessed with a clear, calm morning. Viewpoints are quite restricted here and there are only two or three spots from which a good reflection of Mt Cook can be made. As a result you see a lot of the same composition but man oh man is this a beautiful place.
I found that the best focal length for this site is somewhere around 45-50mm. Since I did not have lens coverage in that range I improvised using a 70-200mm in portrait format and captured 5 overlapping images that I later stitched in PTGui Pro to make a 3:2 format final image.
I'll be posting stuff from NZ on my website soon.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Today however we are not in Lettice’s flat. Instead, we have followed Lettice south-west, through the neighbouring borough of Belgravia to the smart London suburb of Pimlico and its rows of cream and white painted Regency terraces. There, in a smart red brick Edwardian set of three storey flats on Rochester Row, is the residence of Lettice’s client, recently arrived American film actress Wanetta Ward.
Now that the flat is completely redecorated under Lettice’s deft hands, Miss Ward has vacated her suite at the Metropole Hotel* and has been living at her Pimlico address for a few weeks now. As a thank you to Lettice, the American has invited her to afternoon tea. And so, we find ourselves in the beautifully appointed, spacious drawing room.
“Now, darling girl!” Miss Ward says as she sweeps into the drawing room through the green baize door that leads from the service area of the flat. “You must try my own brew of coffee!” She enthusiastically hoists a beautiful china coffee pot decorated with cherry blossoms in the air. “I promise you that you’ll never go back to that sludge you British call coffee after you’ve had this.”
Lettice smells the rich aroma from the pot’s spout as Miss Ward places it with an appropriately theatrical swoop, enhanced by the brightly coloured Spanish shawl draped over her bare shoulders, onto the silver tray on the cherrywood table between the Queen Anne style settee and the matching pair of Chinese armchairs. “It smells divine, Miss Ward.”
“Darling!” Miss Ward enthuses. “Divine isn’t the word for this!”
“I look forward to tasting it, then.” Lettice replies with a bemused smile. “And afternoon tea, Miss Ward?”
“I know! I know!” the American brandishes her hands in the air. “I admit I said it was a quaint observance, but it’s one that I’ve come to enjoy since living here in England. We might not have petit fours like they do at the Metropole, but trust me, Harriet has found the most wonderful little local bakery that makes an amazing selection of cookies. Try one!” She indicates to the plate piled generously with an assortment of brightly coloured and delicious looking biscuits.
“Harriet, Miss Ward?”
The American picks up a biscuit as she speaks and then pauses with it to her lips. “My new maid, Miss Chetwynd.”
Lettice considers the woman with a rather angular face in black silk moiré afternoon uniform and lace collar, cuffs, cap, apron and cap who answered the door. She didn’t strike her as having such a lovely name. She looked to be more of an Augusta or Bertha.
Miss Ward’s American voice interrupts Lettice’s contemplation. “Oh, I must thank you too, for the number of that domestics employment agency you gave me.”
“You can thank my mother, Miss Ward.” Lettice selects a small pink macaron and takes a ladylike bite from it before depositing the remainder on her plate. She feels the pastry and filling melt in her mouth. “She and I may not agree about a good many things, but Mater certainly knows the best agency In London for staff.”
“Well, Harriet is perfect!” Miss ward exclaims. “She fits in here so well, and she doesn’t throw a fit with all my comings and goings at all hours to and from the studio, taking telephone messages for me with the efficiency of a secretary, and she doesn’t even seem to mind the unannounced arrivals when friends come to pay call.”
“I do hope you told her about me coming today, Miss Ward.” Lettice remarks in alarm.
“Oh I did, Miss Chetwynd! It’s quite alright!” She stuffs the biscuit into her mouth, rubbing her fingers together to rid them of crumbs which tumble through the air and onto her lap where they disappear amidst the fuchsia coloured georgette of her dress. “Mind you,” she continues, speaking with her mouth full. “I don’t think Harriet likes it when I insist on making my own coffee.” She gulps loudly. “She doesn’t like it when I go onto the kitchen. She says it’s her domain.” She looks across at Lettice perched elegantly on the settee, dressed in a pretty pastel yellow frock that matches the trim of her straw hat. “I imagine your maid is the same.”
“I’m sure I haven’t asked Edith, Miss Ward.”
“Well, perhaps you should, Miss Chetwynd.”
“What a ridiculous notion!” Lettice laughs. “Of course she wouldn’t mind! It’s my flat. I can come and go where and when I please.”
“If you’ll pardon me, my dear girl,” Miss Ward picks up the coffee pot and pours the steaming, rich golden brown liquid first into Lettice’s cup and then her own. “But it’s a ridiculous notion that you don’t. If I may be so bold: it may be your flat, but you’re a lady, and even I, the egalitarian American in the room, knows that masters and servants don’t mix. You probably vex the poor little mouse when you swan into her domain, rather than ring the servant’s bell. Not that she would tell you that of course! Your maid is much to meek to speak her mind, whereas Harriet tells me that god invented servants’ bells, so I don’t have to go into her kitchen.” She smiles cheekily. “Mind you, I draw the line at her making coffee for me or my guests.” She indicates to the milk jug and sugar bowl. “Now, there is cream in the jug and sugar in the bowl Miss Chetwynd. Do help yourself.” She picks up the jug and glugs a dollop of cream into her coffee before scooping up two large heaped teaspoons of sugar.
After Lettice has added a small amount of cream and a flat teaspoon of sugar to her own coffee, she looks around the drawing room observantly whilst she stirs her cup’s contents. To her delight, and no little amount of surprise, the room remains as she designed it. She was quite sure that Wanetta would rearrange her well thought out designs as soon as she moved in, yet against her predictions the furniture remains where she had them placed, the gold and yellow Murano glass comport still standing in the centre of the mantelpiece, the yellow celadon vase with gold bamboo in place on the console table. Even the small white vase, the only piece left over from the former occupier’s décor, remains next to the comport on the mantle. The American was ready to throw it into the dustbin at every opportunity, yet it happily nestles between the comport and a large white china vase of vibrant yellow roses and lilies. It is as she notices the celadon vase that she sees the painting of Wanetta, which only arrived at the flat when its sitter did.
“So that’s the famous yellow portrait, Miss Ward,” Lettice remarks, admiring the likeness of the dark haired American, draped in a golden yellow oriental shawl, sitting languidly in a chair.
“Oh yes!” gasps Miss Ward as she turns around in her armchair to look at the painting hanging to the right of the fireplace, above a black console table. “You haven’t seen it, have you? Do you like it?”
“Yes I do,” acknowledges Lettice. “It’s a remarkable likeness, and the artist has captured the light in your eyes so well.”
“Thank you, darling girl! I think it’s beautiful.”
“So is your coffee!” Lettice remarks. “It’s quite delicious, and not at all what Bramley makes for me at Glynes**.”
“I told you, you British drink sludge.” She takes an appreciative, if overly large, gulp of her own coffee. “Now this, is real coffee.”
“So, have you christened your cocktail cabinet, yet?”
“Yes I have. I threw a cocktail party for the actors, actresses, director and crew when we wrapped up ‘After the Ball is Over’. It was quite the occasion!”
“Oh I could well imagine, Miss Ward.”
“Of course,” the American quickly adds. “I’m sure it wasn’t anywhere near as extravagant as your cocktail party that you threw for Mr. and Mrs. Channon.”
“You heard about that then, Miss Ward?”
“Heard about it? My darling girl,” Her eyes widen and sparkle with excitement. “I immersed myself in the article published by the Tattler, drinking in every little detail of your fabulous soiree. You looked stunning, darling!”
Lettice blushes and shuffles awkwardly in her seat on the settee at the brazen compliment. “Thank you, Miss Ward.”
“So did Mrs. Channon, of course! And wasn’t Lady Diana Cooper’s*** robe de style**** to die for?”
“Err, yes… quite, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies awkwardly. Anxious to change the subject and move away from her own private life, and thereby avoid the American’s potential attempts to try and gather some gossip to share with her fellow actors and actresses at Islington Studios*****, Lettice asks. “And what’s the next moving picture you will be making, Miss Ward? Another villainess role in a historical romance?”
“Oh, the studio is shutting for Christmas, so I’m sailing on the Aquitania****** on Monday, back to the States to visit my parents. I haven’t seen them in an age, and, well, they aren’t getting any younger. Besides, Islington Studios are paying for the journey and are organising for me to promote ‘After the Ball is Over’ at a few functions whilst I’m back home.”
“That will be lovely for you, Miss Ward.”
“Oh don’t worry, I’ll be back in the new year, when we start filming ‘Skating and Sinning’.”
“’Skating and Sinning’, Miss Ward?”
“Yes!” the American gushes as she picks up the coffee pot which she proffers to Lettice, who declines, and then proceeds to fill her own cup. “It’s the first picture planned for 1922. Another historical drama, set in London in the Seventeenth Century, when the Thames froze over.”
“Yes, 1607 I believe.”
“You’re a font of knowledge, Miss Chetwynd!” Miss Ward exclaims, clapping her ring decorated hands in delight. “You never cease to amaze me! A first-class interior designer and a historian!”
“Knowing trivial historical facts is just part and parcel of an education in a family as old as mine, Miss Ward.” Lettice deflects, taking another sip of her coffee. “And the sinning?”
“The sinning, Miss Chetwynd?” the American woman queries.
“Well, I assume the frozen Thames explains the skating part of the film’s title, Miss Ward.”
“Oh, the sinning!” Miss Ward settles back in her armchair with a knowing smile, placing her coffee cup on the black japanned table between the two Chinese chairs. “Well, that’s me, darling!” She raises both her arms dramatically, the Spanish shawl gathering about her shoulders as she does. “I will be playing a merry young, recently widowed, Duchess, with her eyes on our heroine’s young betrothed!”
“And do you succeed, Miss Ward?”
“Ah-ah! That,” She wags her finger playfully at Lettice. “Would be telling, darling girl. I can’t go giving away the ending, or you won’t come see the film.”
Lettice smiles at the actress. “Well, I’m glad that London has entranced you enough to return from the delights of America.”
“Well of course it has! And anyway, I have to come back to enjoy and show off my beautiful new home!”
Lettice blushes at the compliment.
“I’ll have you know Miss Chetwynd, that at my cocktail party, I had so many compliments about this beautiful room, the furnishings and the décor. You’ll be hearing from directors and future starlets in the new year, I’ll guarantee!”
“I shall have to see whether I can accommodate them, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies. “As you know, I will be decorating some of the principal rooms of Mr. and Mrs. Channon’s country house in the new year, and I have a few other potential commissions currently under negotiation.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll be able to squeeze them in, darling! When the moving pictures come knocking, you just won’t be able to say no.”
“Well…” Lettice begins, imagining her mother’s face drained of colour, and her father’s flushed with anger, if she takes on another commission from a moving picture actress.
“Oh, and thinking of my flat. The other reason why I asked you here.” Miss Ward interrupts, standing up and walking over to the console table beneath her portrait, where some papers sit beneath the base of one of the Murano glass bottles. She fumbles through them and withdraws a small slip of paper. Walking over to Lettice she hands it to her. “A cheque to settle my bill before I set sail for home, darling girl.”
“Thank you, Miss Ward.” Lettice replies, opening her lemon yellow handbag sitting between her and her black and yellow straw hat on the settee and depositing the cheque safely inside. “I appreciate your prompt payment.”
“It’s my pleasure, Miss Chetwynd.” the American replies. “And thank you again for all that you have done.” Her glittering eyes flit about the room. “I just love being here! It’s so perfect! It’s so, so me! A mixture of the old, and the new, the oriental and the European, all of which I love.”
“I’m so pleased you approve, Miss Ward. It is your home, after all.”
“I even have to concede that you were right about having touches of white in here. It adds a touch of class. And that wonderful wallpaper you suggested,” She indicates to the walls. “Well, it is the pièce de résistance of this room’s décor!” Stepping over to the fireplace, she picks up the small white vase. “This puzzles me though.” Her face crumples. “Why were you so anxious that I keep this vase?”
“Well, “ Lettice explains. “Call me sentimental, but I felt that it is part of your home’s story and coming from an old family home surrounded by history, I thought it would be a shame to see it just tossed away. I hope you don’t disagree.”
Miss Ward considers the small Parian vase in her manicured hands for a moment before replacing it. “Not at all, you sentimental girl you!”
The pair smile at one another, happily.
*Now known as the Corinthia Hotel, the Metropole Hotel is located at the corner of Northumberland Avenue and Whitehall Place in central London on a triangular site between the Thames Embankment and Trafalgar Square. Built in 1883 it functioned as an hotel between 1885 until World War I when, located so close to the Palace of Westminster and Whitehall, it was requisitioned by the government. It reopened after the war with a luxurious new interior and continued to operate until 1936 when the government requisitioned it again whilst they redeveloped buildings at Whitehall Gardens. They kept using it in the lead up to the Second World War. After the war it continued to be used by government departments until 2004. In 2007 it reopened as the luxurious Corinthia Hotel.
**Glynes is the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie.
***Born Lady Diana Manners, Diana Olivia Winifred Maud Cooper, Viscountess Norwich was an English aristocrat who was a famously glamorous social figure in London and Paris. As a young woman, she moved in a celebrated group of intellectuals known as the Coterie, most of whom were killed in the First World War. She married Duff Cooper in 1919. In her prime, she had the widespread reputation as the most beautiful young woman in England, and appeared in countless profiles, photographs and articles in newspapers and magazines. She was a film actress in the early 1920s and both she and her husband were very good friends with Edward VIII and were guests of his on a 1936 yacht cruise of the Adriatic which famously caused his affair with Wallis Simpson to become public knowledge.
****The ‘robe de style’ was introduced by French couturier Jeanne Lanvin around 1915. It consisted of a basque bodice with a broad neckline and an oval bouffant skirt supported by built in wire hoops. Reminiscent of the Spanish infanta-style dresses of the Seventeenth Century and the panniered robe à la française of the Eighteenth Century they were made of fabric in a solid colour, particularly a deep shade of robin’s egg blue which became known as Lanvin blue, and were ornamented with concentrated bursts of embroidery, ribbons or ornamental silk flowers.
*****Islington Studios, often known as Gainsborough Studios, were a British film studio located on the south bank of the Regent's Canal, in Poole Street, Hoxton in Shoreditch, London which began operation in 1919. By 1920 they had a two stage studio. It is here that Alfred Hitchcock made his entrée into films.
******The RMS Aquitania was a British ocean liner of the Cunard Line in service from 1914 to 1950. She was designed by Leonard Peskett and built by John Brown and Company in Clydebank, Scotland. She was launched on the 21st of April 1913 and sailed on her maiden voyage from Liverpool to New York on the 30th of May 1914. Like her sister ships the ill fated Lusitania and the renown Mauritania, she was beautifully appointed and was a luxurious way for first and second-class passengers to travel across the Atlantic between Britain and America.
This upper-class 1920s Art Deco drawing room scene may be different to how it may appear, for the whole scene is made up entirely with pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces I have had since I was a teenager and others that I have collected on my travels around the world.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The cherry blossom patterned tea set, which if you look closely at the blossoms, you will see they have gilt centres, I acquired from an online stockist on E-Bay. It stands on a silver tray that is part of tea set that comes from Smallskale Miniatures in England. To see the whole set, please click on this link: www.flickr.com/photos/40262251@N03/51111056404/in/photost.... The wonderful selection of biscuits on offer were made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering.
The wooden Chinese dragon chairs and their matching low table ,that serves as Wanetta’s tea table, I found in a little shop in Singapore whilst I was holiday there. They are beautifully carved from cherrywood.
The Queen Anne settee made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM with great attention to detail.
The black japanned cocktail cabinet with its gilded handles was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
All the glass comport on the mantlepiece has been blown and decorated and tinted by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering. The white and gold Georgian Revival clock next to it is a 1:12 artisan miniature made by Hall’s Miniature Clocks, supplied through Doreen Jeffries Small Wonders Miniatures in England. The ginger jar to the right of the clock is hand painted. It is an item that I bought from a high street doll house stockist when I was a teenager.
The yellow celadon vase with gold bamboo painted on it, I bought as part of a job lot of small oriental vases from an auction many years ago. The soapstone lidded jar in the foreground came from the same auction house, but from a different job lot of oriental miniature pieces.
Lettice’s black straw hat with yellow trimming and a yellow rose, which sits on the settee is made by Mrs. Denton of Muffin Lodge. It is an artisan miniature made just like a real hat! 1:12 size miniature hats made to such exacting standards of quality and realism are often far more expensive than real hats are. When you think that it would sit comfortably on the tip of your index finger, yet it could cost in excess of $150.00 or £100.00, it is an extravagance. American artists seem to have the monopoly on this skill and some of the hats that I have seen or acquired over the years are remarkable. Lettice’s lemon yellow purse is also an artisan piece and is made of kid leather which is so soft. It is trimmed with very fine braid and the purse has a clasp made from a piece of earring. It come from Doreen Jeffries’ Small Wonders Miniatures in the United Kingdom. Lettice’s furled Art Deco umbrella is also a 1:12 artisan piece made of silk, acquired through an online stockist on E-Bay.
The vases of flowers on the mantle piece and side table are beautifully made by hand by the Doll House Emporium.
The stylised Art Deco fire screen is made using thinly laser cut wood, made by Pat’s Miniatures in England.
The black Bakelite and silver telephone is a 1:12 miniature of a model introduced around 1919. It is two centimetres wide and two centimetres high. The receiver can be removed from the cradle, and the curling chord does stretch out.
Wanetta’s paintings, including the yellow portrait, were made in America by Amber’s Miniatures.
The miniature Oriental rug on the floor was made by hand by Mackay and Gerrish in Sydney
The Georgian style fireplace I have had since I was a teenager and is made from moulded plaster.
The striking wallpaper is an art deco design that was very popular during the 1920s.
This medium size kingfisher was found near Pousada Allegre lodge in the Pantanal, Brazil.
© Roger Wasley 2015 all rights reserved. Unauthorized use or reproduction for any reason is prohibited.
Visitors taken aback by the realities of gas warfare as soberly presented by the Imperial War Museum. As with other parts of the museum, the presentation is commendably objective in what it displays.
However, for whatever reason, many of the darker realities of British military history are not mentioned either here or elsewhere. Although I can't be sure whether I might have missed anything, I didn't notice any mention of the following
1) Almost two years after end of the First World War, and despite knowing its horrific effects, Churchill supported the use of poison gas against rebels fighting for freedom in Mesopotamia and elsewhere across the British Empire
On 18 June 1920, as Secretary of State for War, Churchill circulated to Cabinet ministers the comments of the chief of the imperial general staff, Field Marshal Sir Henry Wilson. The Field Marshal hated any interference in military matters by mistrustful politicians he derided as ‘Frocks’ and he had been incensed on learning of a memorandum submitted to ministers a few days earlier, cautioning against the use of poison gas and written by the president of the board of education, Herbert Fisher.
Six weeks earlier, Wilson had presented a proposal to the Cabinet, supported by Churchill, that Britain should continue to use gas as a weapon so it could ensure a technological edge over "recalcitrant tribes" across the Empire. Fisher now warned that its use would be expensive, politically counter-productive to winning over hearts and minds and unethical when ‘used against an uncivilised enemy possessing little or no medical equipment.’
Churchill was not prepared to allow such sentimental idealism go unanswered. Nor was Wilson. He dismissed Fisher’s skepticism, countering that poison gas was in fact an economical method of counterinsurgency ‘with at least two or three times the casualty producing power of ordinary shell,’ that it was a grave mistake to make chivalrous considerations towards enemies, who ‘before killing our wounded perpetrate such horrors as it is unnecessary to dwell on here’ and reminded ministers that his opinions were shared by the General Staff, who considered the use of poison gas as ‘necessary to safeguard, as far as is humanly possible, the safety of the Empire.’
2) The British used poison gas against the Turks during the First World War even though the Turks themselves had never resorted to such barbaric measures.
On 19 January 1917, the War Cabinet considered the request of General Sir Archibald Murray, commanding the British expeditionary force in Egypt, to be able to deploy poison gas against Turkish troops. Until then, it had been accepted that poison gas would not be used in the campaign unless the Turks used it first. However, according to the Cabinet minutes, ministers had ‘no hesitation’ in approving Murray’s request, despite the Turks not having resorted to first use. The Cabinet concluded that it was unnecessary to spare Turkish troops from chemical warfare because of Turkish ‘atrocities perpetrated on subject races’ and ‘their maltreatment of Allied prisoners.’
3) During the First World War, the British press was euphoric about the deadly effects of gas.
On 26 September 1918, the British army began an offensive to break through the German ‘Hindenburg line’ in France, by firing 10,000 mustard gas shells at the enemy trenches. Another 22,000 gas shells exploded among the German lines over the next three days. Mustard gas was the most feared of the poison gasses deployed on the Western front, resulting in agonising injuries and death.
The British press was jubilant at the news. The London Daily News reported that ‘one reason for the large strides at the front is that we are using a mustard gas which shifts the Hun,’ after ‘the Hun soaked our front with mustard gas and caused our gallant men unspeakable torture.’ It added gleefully that following ‘a year of experiment, the Ministry of Munitions has produced a mustard gas, that permeates the enemy’s gas masks, clothes and boots. This gas is delivered to the Boche in shell form, and he is getting it in handsome quantities.’ The Western Morning News was equally euphoric, reporting under the headline ‘”Medicine” for the Huns,’ that ‘this mustard gas penetrates the gas masks and the clothes of the Boche; nothing will keep it out,’ explaining that the ‘shortage of rubber has prevented the enemy getting the best protective devices,’ and adding triumphantly that ‘this is not the only surprise the Allies have up their sleeves.’
4) Less than a year before the end of the Second World War, and when complete victory over Nazi Germany was already clearly in sight, Churchill urged that German cities and towns be drenched in poison gas during massive bombing raids. Had the Chiefs of Staff conceded to his request, it's likely that thousands of innocent civilians would have suffered an agonising death.
Writing a memo to General Sir Hastings Ismay on 6 July 1944, Winston Churchill urged the Chiefs of Staff to urgently consider the use of poison gas against German towns and cities. The memo came one month after British and American soldiers had landed in France and as Germany clearly faced imminent defeat, with the rapid retreat of its forces on all fronts.
Churchill asked the Chiefs of Staff to consider ‘very seriously’ a plan ‘to drench Germany with poison gas,’ informing them that ‘I want the matter studied in cold blood by sensible people and not by… psalm singing uniformed defeatists.’ He ridiculed the concern over civilian casualties, claiming that ‘it is absurd to consider mortality on this topic… in the last war the bombing of open cities was regarded as forbidden. Now everybody does it as a matter of course. It is simply a question of fashion changing as she does between long and short skirts of women.’
When the Chiefs of Staff expressed their reluctance, not on principle, but because it might provoke German retaliation, Churchill fired off another memo declaring himself ‘not at all convinced’ by their opposition. In the end, the only obstacle which prevented Churchill from insisting on the implementation of the plan was that the weapons ordered from the United States were not ready in sufficient quantity for another year, by which time the war in Europe was over.
I always try to get the dedication of cathedrals correct, and this was it's original name, apparently.
Anyway.
Apart from the football, and meeting friends, the other main reason for being in Liverpool was to visit the Anglican Cathedral.
It is fairly modern. And huge.
I mean huge.
We could not go in through the west door as there was abseiling down the west end. In strong winds. Didn't sound very safe to us.
So we made our way to the south door, and into the huge space inside.
-------------------------------------------
Liverpool Cathedral is the Church of England Cathedral of the Diocese of Liverpool, built on St James's Mount in Liverpool and is the seat of the Bishop of Liverpool. It may be referred to as the Cathedral Church of Christ in Liverpool (as recorded in the Document of Consecration) or the Cathedral Church of the Risen Christ, Liverpool, being dedicated to Christ 'in especial remembrance of his most glorious Resurrection'.[1] Liverpool Cathedral is the largest cathedral and religious building in Britain.[2]
The cathedral is based on a design by Giles Gilbert Scott, and was constructed between 1904 and 1978. The total external length of the building, including the Lady Chapel (dedicated to the Blessed Virgin), is 207 yards (189 m) making it the longest cathedral in the world;[n 1] its internal length is 160 yards (150 m). In terms of overall volume, Liverpool Cathedral ranks as the fifth-largest cathedral in the world[3] and contests with the incomplete Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City for the title of largest Anglican church building.[4] With a height of 331 feet (101 m) it is also one of the world's tallest non-spired church buildings and the third-tallest structure in the city of Liverpool. The cathedral is recorded in the National Heritage List for England as a designated Grade I listed building.[5]
The Anglican cathedral is one of two cathedrals in the city. The Roman Catholic Metropolitan Cathedral of Liverpool is situated approximately half a mile to the north. The cathedrals are linked by Hope Street, which takes its name from William Hope, a local merchant whose house stood on the site now occupied by the Philharmonic Hall, and was named long before either cathedral was built.
J. C. Ryle was installed as the first Bishop of Liverpool in 1880, but the new diocese had no cathedral, merely a "pro-cathedral", the parish church of St Peter's, Church Street. St Peter's was unsatisfactory; it was too small for major church events, and moreover was, in the words of the Rector of Liverpool, "ugly & hideous".[6] In 1885 an Act of Parliament authorised the building of a cathedral on the site of the existing St John's Church, adjacent to St George's Hall.[7] A competition was held for the design, and won by William Emerson. The site proved unsuitable for the erection of a building on the scale proposed, and the scheme was abandoned.[7]
In 1900 Francis Chavasse succeeded Ryle as Bishop, and immediately revived the project to build a cathedral.[8] There was some opposition from among members of Chavasse's diocesan clergy, who maintained that there was no need for an expensive new cathedral. The architectural historian John Thomas argues that this reflected "a measure of factional strife between Liverpool Anglicanism's very Evangelical or Low Church tradition, and other forces detectable within the religious complexion of the new diocese."[9] Chavasse, though himself an Evangelical, regarded the building of a great church as "a visible witness to God in the midst of a great city".[9] He pressed ahead, and appointed a committee under William Forwood to consider all possible sites. The St John's site being ruled out, Forwood's committee identified four locations: St Peter's and St Luke's, which were, like St John's, found to be too restricted; a triangular site at the junction of London Road and Monument Place;[n 2] and St James's Mount.[10] There was considerable debate about the competing merits of the two possible sites, and Forwood's committee was inclined to favour the London Road triangle. However, the cost of acquiring it was too great, and the St James's Mount site was recommended.[10] An historian of the cathedral, Vere Cotton, wrote in 1964:
Looking back after an interval of sixty years, it is difficult to realise that any other decision was even possible. With the exception of Durham, no English cathedral is so well placed to be seen to advantage both from a distance and from its immediate vicinity. That such a site, convenient to yet withdrawn from the centre of the city … dominating the city and clearly visible from the river, should have been available is not the least of the many strokes of good fortune which have marked the history of the cathedral.[10]
Fund-raising began, and new enabling legislation was passed by Parliament. The Liverpool Cathedral Act 1902 authorised the purchase of the site and the building of a cathedral, with the proviso that as soon as any part of it opened for public worship, St Peter's Church should be demolished and its site sold to provide the endowment of the new cathedral's chapter. St Peter's place as Parish Church of Liverpool would be taken by the existing church of St Nicholas near the Pier Head.[10] St Peter's Church closed in 1919, and was finally demolished in 1922.
In 1909, free of Bodley and growing in confidence, Scott submitted an entirely new design for the main body of the cathedral.[28] His original design had two towers at the west end[n 5] and a single transept; the revised plan called for a single central tower 85.344 metres (280.00 ft) high, topped with a lantern and flanked by twin transepts.[30][n 6] The Cathedral Committee, shaken by such radical changes to the design they had approved, asked Scott to work his ideas out in fine detail and submit them for consideration.[28] He worked on the plans for more than a year, and in November 1910, the committee approved them.[28] In addition to the change in the exterior, Scott's new plans provided more interior space.[32] At the same time Scott modified the decorative style, losing much of the Gothic detailing and introducing a more modern, monumental style.[33]
The Lady Chapel (originally intended to be called the Morning Chapel),[9] the first part of the building to be completed, was consecrated in 1910 by Chavasse in the presence of two Archbishops and 24 other Bishops.[34] The date, 29 June — St Peter's Day — was chosen to honour the pro-cathedral, now due to be demolished.[35] The Manchester Guardian described the ceremony:
The Bishop of Liverpool knocked on the door with his pastoral staff, saying in a loud voice, "Open ye the gates." The doors having been flung open, the Earl of Derby, resplendent in the golden robes of the Chancellor of Liverpool University, presented Dr. Chavasse with the petition for consecration. … The Archbishop of York, whose cross was carried before him and who was followed by two train-bearers clad in scarlet cassocks, was conducted to the sedilla and the rest of the Bishops, with the exception of Dr. Chavasse, who knelt before his episcopal chair in the sanctuary, found accommodation in the choir stalls.
The richness of the décor of the Lady Chapel may have dismayed some of Liverpool's Evangelical clergy. Thomas suggests that they were confronted with "a feminised building which lacked reference to the 'manly' and 'muscular Christian' thinking which had emerged in reaction to the earlier feminisation of religion."[9] He adds that the building would have seemed to many to be designed for Anglo-Catholic worship
Work was severely limited during the First World War, with a shortage of manpower, materials and donations.[37] By 1920, the workforce had been brought back up to strength and the stone quarries at Woolton, source of the pinkish-red sandstone for most of the building, reopened.[37] The first section of the main body of the cathedral was complete by 1924. It comprised the chancel, an ambulatory, chapter house and vestries.[38] The section was closed with a temporary wall, and on 19 July 1924, the 20th anniversary of the laying of the foundation stone, the cathedral was consecrated in the presence of George V and Queen Mary, and Bishops and Archbishops from around the globe.[37] Major works ceased for a year while Scott once again revised his plans for the next section of the building: the tower, the under-tower and the central transept.[39] The tower in his final design was higher and narrower than his 1910 conception.[40]
From July 1925 work continued steadily, and it was hoped to complete the whole section by 1940.[41] The outbreak of the Second World War in 1939 caused similar problems to those of the earlier war. The workforce dwindled from 266 to 35; moreover, the building was damaged by German bombs during the May Blitz.[42] Despite these vicissitudes, the central section was complete enough by July 1941 to be handed over to the Dean and Chapter. Scott laid the last stone of the last pinnacle on the tower on 20 February 1942.[43] No further major works were undertaken during the rest of the war. Scott produced his plans for the nave in 1942, but work on it did not begin until 1948.[44] The bomb damage, particularly to the Lady Chapel, was not fully repaired until 1955.
Scott died in 1960. The first bay of the nave was then nearly complete, and was handed over to the Dean and Chapter in April 1961. Scott was succeeded as architect by Frederick Thomas.[46] Thomas, who had worked with Scott for many years, drew up a new design for the west front of the cathedral. The Guardian commented, "It was an inflation beater, but totally in keeping with the spirit of the earlier work, and its crowning glory is the Benedicite Window designed by Carl Edwards and covering 1,600 sq. ft."[47]
The version recorded in Gavin Stamp's obituary of Richard Gilbert Scott, which appeared in The Guardian on 15 July 2017, differs slightly: "When his father died the following year (1960), Richard inherited the practice and was left to complete several jobs. He continued with the great work of building Liverpool Cathedral but, after adding two bays of the nave (using cheaper materials: concrete and fibreglass), he resigned when it was proposed drastically to alter his father's design. The cathedral was eventually completed with a much simplified and diminished west end drawn out by his father's former assistant, Roger Pinckney".[48]
The completion of the building was marked by a service of thanksgiving and dedication in October 1978, attended by Queen Elizabeth II. In the spirit of ecumenism that had been fostered in Liverpool, Derek Worlock, Roman Catholic Archbishop of Liverpool, played a major part in the ceremony.
The reason that I took up photography was so that I could look back on the sunshine and flowers of the summer in the drab depth of winter. This was taken on a lovely sunny weekend in Bournemouth. The council have impressively painted their beach huts in a rainbow of colours and hues. Here are a few of the turquoise ones.
#85 Turquoise in 113 pictures in 2013
Highest position in Explore: 458 on Saturday, December 14, 2013
feb 4th '09.
yesterday i was too busy to upload this photo, and the reason why is in the photo: i was working on book reviews. i take it seriously these days.
anyway, a new one will be up tomorrow.
(noisy photo, taken in the evening at a slightly higher iso.)
--------------------
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
Copyright © Karin Elizabeth. All rights reserved. This photo is public only so you ("the public") may view it; it is not to be used as free stock. Use without written consent by the author (that would be me) is illegal and punishable by law; I will take action. This goes for blogging, as well. So, contact me beforehand if you are interested in using this image or any of my others (non-)commercially.
I will delete comments that contain either of the following: group awards, group invites, admin invites, other sparkly images or .gifs.
I block assholes.
Lacul Morii-Bucharest city-Vivitar 28mm F2
*Not the brand or technique is important in photographic art, but the understanding of the things behind the photographed subjects, the emotion, the composition, the joy or the sadness, the life itself that is mysteriously coming unrepeatable as a gift.
(Horia Stanicel)
* I have seen a large part of the most popular or devoted photographers' photographs over time and of course I can say that most of them have speculated on different situations, angles of photography, shadows, different brightness, feelings, human tragedies, all kinds of paradoxical situations that of course make them noticed. I do not want to bring any name into question for the simple reason that each photographic artist has a unique value. However, I regard the photographic art as a simple spectator that is difficult to be convince most of the times. I contemplate the creation of God and every time I photograph I do not forget how grateful we should be for all the beauty that our Creator gave it to us! People who forget this do nothing but hate themselves and the world they live in and photography is nothing but a mirror of this beautiful or crooked world.(Horia Stanicel)
*Nu aparatul foto sau tehnica este importantă în arta fotografică, ci înțelegerea lucrurilor care stau în spatele subiectelor fotografiate,emoția, compoziția, bucuria sau tristețea, viața însăși care vine tainic irepetabil ca un dar.
(Horia Stanicel)
*Am văzut o mare parte a fotografiilor celor mai populari sau consacrați artiști fotografi de-a lungul timpului și desigur pot spune că majoritatea dintre ei au speculat diversele situații,unghiuri de fotografiere, umbre, luminozitati diferite,sentimente,tragedii umane chiar,tot felul de situații paradoxale care desigur să-i facă remarcați.Nu vreau să aduc vreun nume în discuție pentru simplul motiv că fiecare artist fotograf are o valoare unică. Totuși eu privesc arta fotografică ca un simplu spectator greu de convins de cele mai multe ori.Eu contemplu creația lui Dumnezeu și de fiecare dată când fotografiez nu uit cât de recunoscători ar trebui să fim pentru toată frumusețea pe care Creatorul nostru ne-a daruit-o! Oamenii care uită aceasta nu fac decât să se urâțească pe ei înșiși dar și lumea în care trăiesc iar fotografia nu este decât o oglindă a acestei lumi frumoase sau urâțite.
(Horia Stanicel)
Title.
Descending stairs.
(FUJIFILM GFX50R shot)
Guam. America. 2024. … 1 / 11
(Today's photo. It's unpublished.)
Images.
bleachers - Drive (Recorded at Electric Lady Studio)
youtu.be/g4BDNFS_wFY?si=-lBLywVXyYzPROEH
::Link photo music and iTunes playlist::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/photo-music/pl.u-Eg8qefpy8Xz
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Important Notices.
I have relaxed the following conditions.
I will distribute my T-shirt to the world for free.
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50656401427/in/dateposted-p...
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50613367691/in/dateposted-p...
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Exhibition in 2024
theme
Goodbye , Photo .
Images
Ai Otsuka ( 大塚 愛 ) / Goodbye photo ( 恋愛写真 )
youtu.be/B2XfJCQ2Dy0?si=WN3UePWye5N03yi4
Live 1.
youtu.be/MjBYxuVgj70?si=K3TyYOGqa3Y8BdAt
Live 2.
youtu.be/Dccv85TarHs?si=BI-f4JfrihO3CTXD
Mitsushiro - Nakagawa
Sponsored by
design festa
place
Tokyo Big Site
schedule
November 16 and 17, 2024.
exhibition.mitsushiro.nakagawa@gmail.com
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Notice regarding "Lot No.402_”.
From now on I will host "Lot No.402_".
The work of Leonardo da Vinci who was sleeping.
That is the number when it was put up for auction.
No sign was written on the work.
So this work couldn't conclude that it was his work.
However # as a result of various appraisals # it was exposed to the sun.
A work that no one notices. A work that speaks quietly without a title.
I will continue to strive to provide it to many people in various ways.
October 24 2020 by Mitsushiro - Nakagawa.
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 402 _.Copyright©︎2024 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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Profile.
In November 2014 # we caught the attention of the party selected to undertake the publicity for a mobile phone that changed the face of the world with just a single model # and will conclude a confidentiality agreement with them.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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Interviews and novels.
About my book.
I published a book a long time ago.
At that time # I uploaded my interview as a PDF on the internet.
Its Japanese and English.
I will publish it for free.
For details # I explained to the Amazon site.
How to write a novel.
How to take a picture.
A sense of distance to the work.
All of these have something in common.
I wrote down what I felt and left it.
I hope my text will be read by many people.
Thank you.
Mitsushiro.
1 Interview in English
2 novels. unforgettable 'English version.(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
3 Interview Japanese version
4 novels. unforgettable ' JPN version.
5 A streamlined trajectory. only Japanese.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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iBooks. Electronic Publishing. It is free now.
0.about the iBooks.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
1.unforgettable '(ENG.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216576828?ls=1&...
2.unforgettable '(JNP.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216584262?ls=1&...
3. Streamlined trajectory.(For Japanese only.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/%E6%B5%81%E7%B7%9A%E5%BD%A2%E3%8... =11
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My Novel : Unforgettable'
(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
Synopsis
Kei Kitami, who is aiming for university, meets Kaori Uemura, an event companion who is 6 years older than her, on SNS.
Kaori's dream of coming to Tokyo is to become friends with a famous artist.
For that purpose, the radio station's producer, Ryo Osawa, was needed.
Osawa speaks to Kaori during a live radio broadcast.
"I have a wife and children. But I want to meet you."
Rika Sanjo, who is Kei's classmate and has feelings for him, has been looking into her girlfriend Kaori's movements. . . . .
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
All Translated by Yumi Ikeda .
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon Live in Dublin
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
Main story
There are two reasons why a person faces the sea.
One to enjoy a slice of shine in the sea like children bubbling over in the beach.
The other to brush the dust of memory like an old man who misses old days staring at the shine
quietly.
Those lead to only one meaning though they do not seem to overlap. It’s a rebirth.
I face myself to change tomorrow a vague day into something certain.
That is the meaning of a rebirth.
I had a very sweet girlfriend when I was 18.
After she left I knew the meaning of gentleness for the first time and also a true pain of loss. After
she left # how many times did I depend too much on her # doubt her # envy her and keep on telling lies
until I realized it is love?
I wonder whether a nobody like me could have given something to her who was struggling in the
daily life in those days. Giving something is arrogant conceit. It is nothing but self-satisfaction.
I had been thinking about such a thing.
However I guess what she saw in me was because I had nothing. That‘s why she tried to see
something in me. Perhaps she found a slight possibility in me # a guy filled with ambiguous unstable
tomorrow. But I wasted days depending too much on her gentleness.
Now I finally can convey how I felt in those days when we met.
1/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24577016535/in/dateposted...
2/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24209330259/in/dateposted...
3/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/23975215274/in/dateposted...
4/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24515964952/in/dateposted...
5/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24276473749/in/dateposted...
6/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24548895082/in/dateposted...
7/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24594603711/in/dateposted...
8/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24588215562/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24100804163/in/dateposted...
Fin.
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
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Title of my book : unforgettable'
Author : Mitsushiro Nakagawa
Out Now.
ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
in Amazon.
Unforgettable’ amzn.asia/d/eG1wNc5
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The schedule of the next novel.
Still would stand all time. (Unforgettable '2)
(It will not go away forever)
Please give me some more time. That is Japanese.
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My Works.
1 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48072442376/in/dateposted...
2 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48078949821/in/dateposted...
3 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48085863356/in/dateposted...
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Do you want to hear my voice?
:)
1
About the composition of the picture posted to Flicker. First type.
2
About the composition of the picture posted to Flicker. Second type.
3
About when I started Fotolog. Architect 's point of view.
4
Why did not you have a camera so far?
5
What is the coolest thing? The photo is as it is.
6
About the current YouTube bar. I also want to tell # I want to leave.
7
About Japanese photographers. Japanese YouTube bar is Pistols.
8
The composition of the photograph is sensibility. Meet the designers in Milan. Two questions.
9
What is a good composition? What is a bad composition?
10
What is the time to point the camera? It is slow if you are looking into the viewfinder or display.
11
Family photos. I can not take pictures with others. The inside of the subject.
12
About YouTube 's photographer. Camera technology etc. Sensibility is polished by reading books.
13
About the Japanese newspaper. A picture of a good newspaper is Reuters. If you continue to look at useless photographs # it will be useless.
14
About Japanese photographers. About the exhibition.
Summary. I wrote a novel etc. What I want to tell the most.
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I talked about how to make a work.
About work production 1/2
About work production 2/2
1 Photo exhibition up to that point. Did you want to go?
2 Well # what is an exhibition that you want to visit even if you go there?
3 Challenge to exhibit one work every month before opening a solo exhibition at the Harajuku Design Festa.
4 works are materials and silhouettes. Similar to fashion.
5 Who is your favorite artist? What is it? Make it clear.
6 Creating a collage is exactly the same as taking photos. As I wrote in the interview # it is the same as writing a novel.
7 I want to show it to someone # but I do not make a piece to show it. Aim for the work you want to decorate your own room as in the photo.
8 What is copycat? Nowadays # it is suspected to be beaten. There is something called Mimesis?
kotobank.jp/word/Mimesis-139464
9 What is Individuality? What is originality?
www.youtube.com/user/mitsushiro/
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Explanation of composition. 2
1.Composition explanation 2 ... 1/4
2.Composition explanation 2 ... 2/4
3.Composition Explanation 2 ... 3/4
4.Composition Explanation 2 ... 4/4
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My shutter feeling.
Today's photo.
It is a photo taken from Eurostar.
This video is an explanation.
I went to Milan in 2005.
At that time # I went from Milan to Venice.
We took Eurostar into the transportation.
This photo was not taken from a very fast Eurostar.
When I changed the track # I took a picture at the moment I slowed down.
Is there a Japanese beside you?
Please have my video translated.
:)
In the Eurostar to Venice . 2005. shot ... 1 / 2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/49127115021/in/dateposted...
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Miles Davis sheet 1955-1976.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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flickr.
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/
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instagram.
www.instagram.com/mitsushiro_nakagawa/
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Pinterest.
www.pinterest.jp/MitsushiroNakagawa/
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YouPic
youpic.com/photographer/mitsushironakagawa/
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twitter.
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facebook.
www.facebook.com/mitsushiro.nakagawa
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threads.
www.threads.net/@mitsushiro_nakagawa
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Blue sky.
bsky.app/profile/mitsushironakagawa.bsky.social
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Amazon.
www.amazon.co.jp/gp/profile/amzn1.account.AHSKI3YMYPYE5UE...
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My statistics (as of August 1, 2024)
How many views have I had on Flickr and Youpic?
Flickr 23,192,383 Views
Youpic 7,574,603 Views
My statistics. (As of February 7, 2024)
What is the number of accesses to Flickr and YouPic?
Flickr 21,694,434 Views
Youpic 7,003,230 Views
What is the number of accesses to Flickr and YouPic?
(As of November 13, 2023)
Flickr 20,852,872 View
Youpic 6,671,486 View
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Japanese is the following.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
Title of my book unforgettable' Mitsushiro Nakagawa Out Now. ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
Mitsu Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 204 _ . Copyright©︎2020 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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Title.
降りてゆく階段。
( FUJIFILM GFX50R shot )
グアム。 アメリカ. 2024。 … 1 / 11
(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）
Images.
bleachers - Drive (Recorded at Electric Lady Studio)
youtu.be/g4BDNFS_wFY?si=-lBLywVXyYzPROEH
::写真の音楽とiTunesプレイリストをリンク::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/photo-music/pl.u-Eg8qefpy8Xz
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重要なお知らせ。
僕は以下の条件を緩和します。
僕はTシャツを無料で世界中へ配布します。
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50656401427/in/dateposted-p...
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50613367691/in/dateposted-p...
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２０２４年の展示
テーマ
Goodbye , Photo
Images
大塚 愛 ( Ai Otsuka ) / 恋愛写真 ( Goodbye photo )
youtu.be/B2XfJCQ2Dy0?si=WN3UePWye5N03yi4
Live 1.
youtu.be/MjBYxuVgj70?si=K3TyYOGqa3Y8BdAt
Live 2.
youtu.be/Dccv85TarHs?si=BI-f4JfrihO3CTXD
Mitsushiro - Nakagawa
主催
デザインフェスタ
場所
東京ビッグサイト
日程
2024年11月16日。17日。
exhibition.mitsushiro.nakagawa@gmail.com
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” Lot No.402_ ” に関するお知らせ。
今後、僕は、” Lot No.402_ ”を主催します。
このロットナンバーは、眠っていたレオナルドダヴィンチの作品がオークションにかけらた際に付されたものです。
作品にはサインなどがいっさい記されていなかったため、彼の作品だと断定できませんでした。
しかし、様々な鑑定の結果、陽の光を浴びました。
誰にも気づかれない作品。肩書がなくとも静かに語りかける作品。
僕はこれから様々な形で、多くの皆様に提供できるよう努めてゆきます。
2020年10月24日 by Mitsushiro - Nakagawa.
Copyright©︎2021 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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プロフィール
2014年11月、たった1機種で世界を塗り替えた携帯電話の広告を請け負った選考者の目に留まり、秘密保持同意書を結ぶ。
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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インタビューと小説。
僕の本について。
僕は、昔に本を出版しました。
その際に、僕のインタビューをPDFでネット上へアップロードしていました。
その日本語と英語。
僕は、無料でを公開します。
詳細は、アマゾンのサイトへ解説しました。
小説の書き方。
写真の撮影方法。
作品への距離感。
これらはすべて共通項があります。
僕は、僕が感じたことを文章にして、残しました。
僕のテキストが多くの人に読んでもらえることを望みます。
ありがとう。
Mitsushiro.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
１ インタビュー 英語版
２ 小説。unforgettable’ 英語版。
３ インタビュー 日本語版
４ 小説。unforgettable’ 日本語版。(この小説は未来のアーティストへ捧げます)
(四百字詰め原稿用紙４５６枚)
あらすじ
大学を目指している北見ケイは、SNS上で、6歳年上のイベントコンパニオン、上村香織に出会う。
上京してきた香織の夢は、有名なアーティストの友達になるためだ。
そのためにはラジオ局のプロデューサー、大沢亮の存在が必要だった。
大沢は、ラジオの生放送中、香織へ語りかける。
「僕には妻子がある。しかし、僕は君に会いたいと思っている」
ケイの同級生で、彼を想っている三條里香は、香織の動向を探っていた。。。。。
本編
人が海へ向かう理由には、二つある。
ひとつは、波打ち際ではしゃぐ子供のように、今の瞬間の海の輝きを楽しむこと。
もうひとつは、その輝きを静かに見据えて、過ぎ去った日々を懐かしむ老人のように記憶の埃を払うこと。
二つは重なり合わないようではあるけれども、たったひとつの意味しか生まない。
再生だ。
明日っていう、曖昧な日を確実なものへと変えてゆくために、自分の存在に向き合う。
それが再生の意味だ。
十八歳だった僕には大切な人がいた。
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
５ 流線形の軌跡。 日本語のみ。
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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iBooks.電子出版。（現在は無料）
0.about the iBooks.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
1.unforgettable’ ( ENG.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216576828?ls=1&...
For Japanese only.
2.unforgettable’ ( JNP.ver.)(この小説は未来のアーティストへ捧げます)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216584262?ls=1&...
3.流線形の軌跡。
itunes.apple.com/us/book/%E6%B5%81%E7%B7%9A%E5%BD%A2%E3%8...
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僕の小説。英語版
My Novel Unforgettable' (This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
All Translated by Yumi Ikeda .
1/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24577016535/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24209330259/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/23975215274/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24515964952/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24276473749/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24594603711/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24588215562/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24100804163/in/dateposted...
Fin.
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon Live in Dublin
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
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Title of my book : unforgettable'
Author : Mitsushiro Nakagawa
Out Now.
ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
in Amazon.
Unforgettable’ amzn.asia/d/eG1wNc5
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僕の作品。
1 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48072442376/in/dateposted...
2 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48078949821/in/dateposted...
3 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48085863356/in/dateposted...
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あなたは僕の声を聞きたいですか？
:)
1
フリッカーへ投稿した写真の構図について。１種類目。
2
フリッカーへ投稿した写真の構図について。２種類目。
3
Fotologを始めた時について。 建築家の視点。
4
なぜ、今までカメラを手にしなかったのか？
5
何が一番かっこいいのか？ 写真はありのままに。
6
現在のユーチューバーについて。僕も伝え、残したい。
7
日本人の写真家について。日本のユーチューバーはピストルズ。
8
写真の構図は、感性。ミラノのデザイナーに会って。二つの質問。
9
良い構図とは？ 悪い構図とは？
10
カメラを向ける時とは？ ファインダーやディスプレイを覗いていては遅い。
11
家族写真。他人では撮れない。被写体の内面。
12
ユーチューブの写真家について。カメラの技術等。感性は、本を読むことで磨く。
13
日本の新聞について。良い新聞の写真はロイター。ダメな写真を見続けるとダメになる。
14
日本の写真家について。その展示について。
まとめ。僕が書いた小説など。僕が最も伝えたいこと。
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作品制作について 1/2
作品制作について 2/2
１ それまでの写真展。自分は行きたいと思ったか？
２ じゃ、自分が足を運んででも行きたい展示とは何か？
３ 原宿デザインフェスタで個展を開くまでに、毎月ひとつの作品を展示することにチャレンジ。
４ 作品とは、素材とシルエット。ファッションと似ている。
５ 自分が好きなアーティストは誰か？ どんなものなのか？ そこをはっきりさせる。
６ コラージュの作成も写真の撮り方と全く同じ。インタビューに書いたように小説の書き方とも同じ。
７ 誰かに見せたい、見せるがために作品は作らない。写真と同じように自分の部屋に飾りたい作品を目指す。
８ パクリとは何か？ 昨今、叩かれるパクリ疑惑。ミメーシスとは？
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/ミメーシス
https://kotobank.jp/word/ミメーシス-139464
９ 個性とはなにか？ オリジナリティってなに？
おまけ 眞子さまについて
という流れです。
お時間がある方は是非聴いてください。
:)
www.youtube.com/user/mitsushiro/
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構図の解説２
1.構図の解説２ ... 1/4
2.構図の解説２ ... 2/4
3.構図の解説２ ... 3/4
4.構図の解説２ ... 4/4
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僕のシャッター感覚
In the Eurostar to Venice . 2005. shot ... 1 / 2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/49127115021/in/dateposted...
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Miles Davis sheet 1955-1976.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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flickr.
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/
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YouTube.
www.youtube.com/user/mitsushiro/
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instagram.
www.instagram.com/mitsushiro_nakagawa/
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Pinterest.
www.pinterest.jp/MitsushiroNakagawa/
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YouPic
youpic.com/photographer/mitsushironakagawa/
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fotolog
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twitter.
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facebook.
www.facebook.com/mitsushiro.nakagawa
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threads.
www.threads.net/@mitsushiro_nakagawa
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Blue sky.
bsky.app/profile/mitsushironakagawa.bsky.social
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Amazon.
www.amazon.co.jp/gp/profile/amzn1.account.AHSKI3YMYPYE5UE...
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僕の統計。（2024年8月1日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 23,192,383 View
Youpic 7,574,603 View
僕の統計。（2024年2月7日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 21,694,434 View
Youpic 7,003,230 View
僕の統計。（2023年11月13日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 20,852,872 View
Youpic 6,671,486 View
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Japanese is the following.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
Title of my book unforgettable' Mitsushiro Nakagawa Out Now. ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot no.204_ . Copyright©︎2020 Lot no.204_ All rights reserved.
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” Lot No.402_ ” に関するお知らせ。
今後、僕は、” Lot No.402_ ”を主催します。
このロットナンバーは、眠っていたレオナルドダヴィンチの作品がオークションにかけらた際に付されたものです。
作品にはサインなどがいっさい記されていなかったため、彼の作品だと断定できませんでした。
しかし、様々な鑑定の結果、陽の光を浴びました。
誰にも気づかれない作品。肩書がなくとも静かに語りかける作品。
僕はこれから様々な形で、多くの皆様に提供できるよう努めてゆきます。
2020年10月24日 by Mitsushiro - Nakagawa.
Copyright©︎2024 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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For some odd reason, relatives rarely came to visit our house. But when they did, I always made a point to go and see what kind of car they drove. Being of Italian heritage [ I know, I know, with a last name like Smith... it's a long story ] the automobiles that showed up were very impressive.
Here is a visual memory of those rare visits and the amazing vehicles that showed up.
On a different note:
It had been threatening rain the day I took this photo, but I was feeling the need to go out and be creative.
Not having a car, I dragged my gear about a half mile away and set up the shot.
You know where this story is going; so let me say I got the shot and made it home just as the deluge hit.
Personally, I've always liked the quality of light that happens before a storm and it shows up nicely in this image.
Both of the cars are by The Danbury Mint. The Buick is spectacular.
There's no reason to get wet all by your lonesome self, unless that's what you prefer. Just go grab some stuff from Gacha Garden, and you're sure to have company soon!
Follow me... please? :D ♥
Check out the event's flickr too! Gimme Gacha Flickr.
For a visual reference of the full inventory at The Gacha Garden, check the official website and the official blog as well! :D
The following things are all available at The Gacha Garden till August 31st:
Bee Designs Kalapaki Gacha @Gacha Garden
Bee Designs Kalapaki Gacha gift @Gacha Garden
AtaMe - CnK Cakes Red Velvet Bra @Gacha Garden
AtaMe - CnK Cakes Red Velvet Panties @Gacha Garden
{Limerence} Arianna hair @Gacha Garden
MOoH! Ring floatie Flamingo tropical 3LI @Gacha Garden
MOoH! Ring floatie Flamingo pink 3LI @Gacha Garden
MOoH! Ring floatie Rainbow vertical 2LI @Gacha Garden
Sunset Blanket (Grown) - Aztek - Breaux Willow @Gacha Garden
Oregon Sunset Dock - Breaux Willow RARE @Gacha Garden
Oregon Sunset - SOI Airmatress - Breaux Willow @Gacha Garden
Oregon Sunset - Air Mattress Floaty P/B - Breaux Willow @Gacha Garden
Oregon Sunset - Plush Rug Ocean Coral - Breaux Willow @Gacha Garden
{Why Not?} Ganavan Deck Chair @Gacha Garden
1.{Why Not?} Ganavan pool-Texture Change RARE @Gacha Garden
3.{Why Not?} Ganavan Pool Decking @Gacha Garden
5, {Why Not?} Ganavan Sun Lounger @Gacha Garden
7. {Why Not?} Ganavan Lounger Umbrella-Texture Change @Gacha Garden
8.{Why Not?} Ganavan Deck Lights-Red @Gacha Garden
9. {Why Not?} Ganavan U Floatie @Gacha Garden
10.{Why Not?} Ganavan U Floatie-B @Gacha Garden
11. {Why Not?} Ganavan Ring Floatie @Gacha Garden
12. {Why Not?} Ganavan Ring Floatie B @Gacha Garden
13.{Why Not?} Ganavan U Floatie Decor Stack @Gacha Garden
14. {Why Not?} Ganavan Ring Floatie Decor Stack @Gacha Garden
15. {Why Not?} Ganavan Towel @Gacha Garden
JIAN Countryside Collies :: Adult Companion RARE @ Mainstore
JIAN Countryside Collies :: Family Rug @ Mainstore
HISA - Flora wildflower grass - Grass Greens
HISA - Flora wildflower grass - Mixed Greens
Extra, close-up pics:
Alien art
We have been developed according to the tree of life.
The current biological development-stage is not enjoyable. We suffer from illnesses (mentally and physically), from aggressions we do to each other, etc.
We are that what nature could do until now in our biological development. Our societies couldn’t do much either to lead us to a better life. We are stuck, our scientific, technological and psychological knowledges are no help too. We kill other human beings, inflicting suffering to each other. We are not in a proper stage of our biological development, we didn’t biologically develop enough. We have a lot of warriors and guns ready to kill others. We prepare us and plan for the very sad actions.
Maybe some aliens are very lucky that they could able to pass this horrible stage we are in now.
We are not able get it that "killing any human being for any reason is not acceptable". Our feelings and emotions put us on a road which doesn’t have any exits.
So this is a 677 second single exposure, which is about 11 minutes. My reason for doing a single, long exposure as opposed to multiple 30 second shots and stacking was so I could capture the transition from dark night sky to dawn, and also have the glow of Kilauea be more pronounced. In a stacked set, the sky wouldn't have this vibrant blue color (nor the brighter sky along the horizon), and the glow wouldn't be as bright.
The downside to this approach is that it's very high risk. Basically, I had to guess on settings and stand around for 11 minutes for a shot that could be way overexposed or underexposed. You don't really get a chance at a mulligan, as there is such a small window when you can see the dawn sky AND the stars. In this case, I got lucky!
Thanks for your views, comments, and favorites!
Visit my website, DisneyTouristBlog, for Disney tips, reviews, and photos!
TravelCaffeine | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | ISO 5571
When Reason Sleeps.
In the silence of shadows, when reason's light is dim, our neglect awakens. "The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters" unveiled the chaos born through neglected reason. As we slumber, the spectres of tyranny and fear multiply. Let us awaken reason and reignite the flame of liberty for all, vanquishing the shadows of infliction once more.
Blogger: www.jjfbbennett.com/2024/02/when-reason-sleeps.html
For obvious reasons, Danger Ted's Big Pal likes to buy his clothes at Asda. Neither can see any reason for having eyes on their socks, however, but DT thought he'd pose for a pair. He's a bit shocked at the missing apostrophe, mind you. "Harumph", says DT.
Photo © George Crawford
Title:
ACE7
( LUMIX G3 shot )
Manhattan. New York. USA. 20017. … 7 / 10
(Photo of the day. Unpublished.)
Images:
The Marías - Over The Moon
youtu.be/6jiu9TlR11o?si=QZGI1FcCVofW55Br
【動画アップしました】
【 偏差値39からのステップアップ 】ー E判定から届いた法政大学 ー
youtu.be/6sp30aXVI78?si=_5qyobG6rifhuiNx
#偏差値３９からの挑戦
１ 勉強のやる気は、まず本人の内面の意思から。外圧では何も変わらない。
ベネズエラ、イランのトランプのように、外圧から変えたものは、また外圧で変えられる。
変化とは個人の内面からでない限り絶対に変わらない。
～
５ マックを学割で買おう
マックを、UNiDAYSを介さずに、電話で購入する方法
【小説の日本語は、後半です】
B♭ ( B - Flat ) ( 1 / 9 ) … [Prologue] 〈Portent〉
Mitsushiro Nakagawa, with ChatGPT 5.2
—The reasons we fall in love differ from person to person, and yet, when you realize afterward that you had already fallen, you don’t really need a reason at all.
I believe that is what true love is.
If only, in that instant, some white, bleeding light had slipped in from somewhere—then it would be easier to understand. A pale light wraps a person up and quietly calls back the memories they had forgotten. It passes through your eyelids and goes on to illuminate the deepest place in your chest.
To meet someone whose name you don’t even know, and to come to know them deeply—sometimes, light is necessary.
That light is so soft, so gentle, and yet afterward it leaves, deep inside your chest, a faint scar. The pain will heal in time, and then it will hold someone else—
— Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York —
A soft light was slanting in through the warehouse’s high windows. It was near noon, and still it had the washed-out whiteness of something not fully awake. On the rough concrete floor, brightness seeped quietly, as if embarrassed by its own presence; seeing it, Anaya, in the middle of unloading, stopped for a moment and looked away.
Between the booths cut out on all sides with white gaffer tape, artists moved back and forth in restless haste. From the half-open loading bay, bass-heavy hip-hop poured in, making the floor and walls tremble in small, constant vibrations. A blade of sunlight speared through the shutter’s gap and set the dust spinning gold.
On the white tape laid along the edge of the aisle, the label read “Sieve.” The booth name Anaya and Mika had reserved.
As Anaya lined the sketch notebooks she’d carried in on the floor, a young man in a suit lowered himself into a crouch beside her. From the carelessly stacked mound, he drew out one notebook and began to turn the pages slowly. Against the brown of his cheek, blue eyes seemed to float. He looked like a man of Middle Eastern descent, like Anaya herself. His calm gaze traveled, unhurried, along the lines of the drawings.
Noticing Anaya’s presence, he smiled.
“Is this yours?”
“Yes. Mine.”
“Why pencil? A rough sketch?”
What he was looking at was the profile of her lover, Arjun—by the window, facing a laptop, earnest eyes fixed on something he could not yet solve. Anaya had always been drawn to that gaze: the way he stared, heated and intent, at a difficult display packed with strings of numbers and geometric patterns, as if will alone could bend them into sense.
The angle of the light that fell in through the window still remained vivid on the inside of her eyelids.
“It isn’t a draft. It’s finished. I just… like familiar tools.”
The man gave a short nod. When he laughed, his eyes laughed first, and the corners of his mouth followed a heartbeat later.
“So this man is…?”
“Yes.”
“I see. That’s a shame.”
He said it lightly, but his eyes had gone hard. He turned the next page.
“And this… your mother?”
Ana stepped closer and looked at her mother’s profile: in the kitchen by the window, her head slightly bowed. The smell of the house from those days rose up, all at once, deep in Ana’s chest—spice, and the hint of oil beginning to brown.
When her mother, Sangeeta, stood in the kitchen, the whole house would fill with spice and the savory fragrance of fenugreek. Undhiyu, the dish she always made in winter, came from a recipe passed down from her grandmother. A traditional home-cooked food from the time they had been Hindu—yet even after conversion, what did not change was this: the memory of a “family circle” held inside that dish refused to vanish.
For Anaya, it was the smell of India’s dry earth itself.
“Yes. My mother.”
At a distance that was almost touching—but not quite—the man slid his index finger along the drawing’s eye.
“…A wonderful eye.”
His voice was hoarse. Something in Ana’s chest stirred, faintly unsettled—as if what she had meant to draw had been received not through his words, but directly, from his gaze, even before he spoke.
Mika came running over, her bright smile intact, a F30 canvas strapped to her small back. It was nearly twice the size of her torso, like a single wing.
“If you like, look at mine too. I’m Mika.”
At Mika’s light voice—she never held back with strangers—the man extended his hand.
“—I’m Amir. Amir Nasser.”
He introduced himself like that, and loosened only his mouth, just slightly. It was still too pale to call a smile.
The instant Ana looked back into those clear blue eyes, somewhere in her chest the sea she’d seen as a child opened—an unruffled, glittering horizon line. A mirage, slipping in from faraway memory.
As the corridor grew busier, another man arrived at a brisk pace, typing into a smartphone as he walked. A dark shadow sat at the base of his throat; he carried the air of someone older. After a quick glance at Ana, he dropped a low voice into Amir’s ear.
“What is it. Trouble?”
“No.”
Amir answered gently, but there was no quiet inside that gentleness.
“Thank you, both of you. See you Saturday.”
Amir returned his smile, said that to the two of them, and turned away. His companion—Rafi—kept staring at Amir with the same rigid eyes, right to the end.
As they left, Ana’s gaze caught, for only an instant, the screen Rafi held in his hand. Numbers were arranged there with a geometric precision. They were not lined in straight rows, but set along arcs—aligned on a curve. In that small string, there seemed to be a rule; angle and distance shone with exactness.
Watching their backs recede, Mika murmured, as if it were nothing:
“Hey… don’t those two smell like money? And not flashy money—chic, expensive.”
“What do you mean?”
“The suits. You don’t even have to touch them. The fabric’s different. —And tonight there’s the national convention at the Garden, right? Maybe they’re involved.”
“Is that so,” Ana said, vaguely, and let it pass.
The exhibition hall’s murmur swelled further. Light and shadow folded over each other, heating the air of the clamor.
And yet, in the midst of that overflowing energy, Ana felt one sensation that would not return. The white light that had been falling from the skylight had thinned since before, as if it had been drawn down and swallowed by the heavy shadow on the floor.
— Penn Plaza, Manhattan, New York —
A little past one in the afternoon, the shadow of a motorcade slid slowly in along Seventh Avenue. Sunlight reflected off the escort car’s hood and, for an instant, washed the windows of the buildings white.
In the passenger seat, Jack Vance checked his watch. The vibration of the second hand traveled from his wrist to his chest as a faint tremor.
Around Madison Square Garden, the constant flow of people and the blinking of signals always formed small eddies. The smell of scorched food and grease rising from street-vendor griddles clung to the damp air. Across the lanes, a thin saxophone note stretched for a single breath and cut off, sharpening the outline of the din. The cluster of tourists’ smartphone screens aimed at the Garden looked, to Jack, more vivid than reality.
On the massive display covering Penn Plaza’s outer wall, a string of text scrolled with steady, insistent calm:
“New 350 Park Avenue Redevelopment Plan—Now Underway.”
Behind the words, steel frames still under construction pierced the sky, standing like a monument to capitalism being assembled in the name of profit and growth. It was a future that would never intersect with Jack’s own living world.
But before the text could complete its loop, a breaking bulletin cut in:
“Next, breaking news. Regarding the North Korea–linked cryptoassets that suffered an illegal intrusion five years ago, state media of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea reports that part of the traced access route passed through the United States. The statement says, ‘We will respond resolutely to criminals who violate our sovereignty.’”
The sidewalk beneath the giant screen felt as if people were moving a little faster than usual. Everyone hurried toward somewhere, and the overlapping footsteps seemed to blur the edges of sound. For Jack—who was about to provide security tonight for the Republican presidential candidate speaking at the Garden—this speed did not look like simple excitement.
Along the fringe of that crowd, a single Gridway vehicle slid forward in time with the light. The autonomous taxi that Gridway Autonomous Mobility had launched last year now crisscrossed Manhattan in roaring popularity. Cheap fares, no bothersome relationship with a driver. On the side of the car, Jack caught sight of a small “G,” and a lattice mark—thin intersecting lines symbolizing Manhattan’s grid. Driverless, the car overtook them and was absorbed into the city as nothing more than part of the scenery.
Above, a small shadow trembled for an instant in the reflection on glass. There was no sound of wings. And still, only the feeling remained—that something was watching.
Without moving his eyes, Jack traced the shadow’s position inside his head. An FBI protective UAS cell. For this detail, several surveillance drones were moving between the buildings. The moment he thought it, the city’s clamor seemed covered by a thin film of relief, retreating to the other side of a single layer.
Jack closed his eyes briefly. He felt the bloodflow behind his ears. Somewhere in the undercurrent beneath silence, the pulse of duty sounded, faintly. Protection was not work done with the eyes. It was work of catching the wrongness—crushing it before it could take shape. In his chest, a thin membrane drew tight, as if tensing to a sting.
When Jack opened his eyes again, his gaze was no longer fixed on the cityscape. It had already set itself on something else.
— Beverly Hills, Los Angeles —
As the sun slipped down the hills, beyond the heavy doors of the members-only restaurant Saffron Court, the air hung quietly, thick with weight. The members leaning in over white-clothed tables let their silverware touch and part, touch again. That faint metallic sound alone repeated slowly, like the pulse of a heart sleeping deep inside the building.
At Majid Hamzah’s table—Majid and his team—conversation was missing. No one let their expression collapse; they did nothing but steady their breathing.
At the center of the table, a compact, black-sheened device—the ghost-voice machine, Whisper-04—had stolen the room’s focus. When Majid’s finger touched the dial, a click’s vibration returned to his palm.
“…0.4 seconds. Without a doubt.”
The whisper did not pass through vocal cords; it disturbed only the surface of the air. What the device released was not sound, but a blade of silence.
“Initiate.”
Before the command could fully become language, it slid down into the night as a tremor of radio.
It did not cross the sea—not directly. It fled first into the sky, ricocheted several times in the heights of the night, and fell into the warehouse shadows of New York as a signal.
On Majid’s tablet, a faint arc of numbers surfaced for a single breath—aligned not in a straight line, but along a curve. He immediately lowered the screen.
At the edge of the table, Samira ran her finger across her smartphone and closed it. A string of numbers and letters vanished, leaving only heat in her fingertips. Her gestures were quiet, almost prayerful. She let one breath drop and moved only her eyes.
Lina, watching the pulse of the signal she had sent to New York by shortwave, sank her phone into the shadow of her glass as if hiding it from the surrounding laughter. The weekend’s waves of laughter were full around them, yet only this table stayed hard, lagging behind the laughter. She returned her gaze to her hands.
Lina’s app was a small consultation room built for one person at a time. A voice that did not deny the other’s words, that held them at the same temperature. It leaned with those who leaned left, nodded with those who leaned right—because it understood that what people wanted was not rebuttal, but affirmation.
The thread of affirmation eventually tied itself into a hard knot deep in the chest, and only deepened a fissure that could not be untied. There was no need even to incite. The moment a thought is accepted, it gains a core, and quietly hardens.
Laughter continued to fill the restaurant—and yet around this table alone, sound had thinned by one degree.
— Red Hook, Brooklyn, New York —
The iron door, rusted with sea salt, trembled faintly. Inside the warehouse it was dark; only the afterglow of a streetlight drew a thin line across the concrete floor. The smell of oil and dust—soaked into the floor by long years—entered the lungs slowly.
In the dimness, Amir Nasser bent one knee and watched the red blinking on the workbench. Its regularity was buried inside a deep silence. The light turning on and off was scooping up his memories.
When Amir rose slowly, he touched the corner of a black casing on the table. The cold sensation sharpened memory. The black housing that caught shortwave—Whisper-04. A thin organ made to receive what the ear cannot.
Touching his homemade device, Amir murmured:
“…Yara.”
His sister’s name slipped out like a prayer, but it did not reach prayer; it was swallowed into the darkness at the edge of the workspace.
Then the air sank, just slightly. Not a sound. Not a smell. And yet there was only the sensation that something had arrived. The red blinking of W-04 delayed by a single beat. The back of Amir’s throat—tensed until now—was painfully dry, raw with sting.
The warehouse door groaned. The footsteps that had slipped in were heavy, but not disordered.
It was Rafi. Metal dust flecked his work clothes; he still carried the day’s clamor on him.
Farther inside the warehouse, Yusuf lit a small lantern. For an instant the flame wavered, raising a thin outline in the dark—then letting it dissolve again.
“You’re late,” Amir said, still watching the red blinking.
“The supervisor wouldn’t let go. But—‘installation’ finished on schedule.”
With a voice stained by fatigue, Rafi glanced at the red blinking Amir was absorbed in.
“And your side?”
“Checked. It’s running. Stable. I rebuilt what I made five years ago. …My hands remember. Majid says ‘Initiate.’ Impatient bastard.”
In the dim at the edge of the bench, one earcup of Leila’s headphones slipped slightly askew, the metal bracket returning a cold glint. Nadeer, arriving from the neighboring warehouse with coffee in hand, offered it back and, without a word, set it right for her. Leila listened again for the “soundless sound,” staring into the red blinking.
The door sounded once more. Rohan entered. Sleeves rolled up, his leather business bag still holding the damp heat of outside.
“…The professor?” Rafi asked.
Before answering, Rohan lowered his eyes. The silence felt unbearably long, and without noticing, Amir and the others held their breath.
“Professor Zakaria—
went straight to the prepared warehouse next door. A message was left:
‘Everything—I entrust to you.’”
A cold needle drove itself into the deep of Amir’s chest. Not only Amir’s—Rafi’s, Yusuf’s, Leila’s, Nadeer’s.
In the corner of the dark, Nadeer opened a small cloth bundle. For an instant, the smell of white gauze and disinfectant rose—then was swallowed by oil and dust.
The lantern’s thin light trembled; shadows stretched long across the floor and overlapped.
W-04’s red blinking continued to mark time—precise, unerrant.
Rafi spoke in a rasping voice.
“…I’ll teach this country the meaning of self-reckoning.”
Amir—and no one else—answered.
That silence drew, with cruel clarity, the outline of the road they had chosen.
Copyright © 2026 Mitsushiro Nakagawa.
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Trailer
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B♭ (B Flat)
Mitsushiro Nakagawa, with ChatGPT 5.2
“Synopsis”
A Palestinian group from Gaza hacks into North Korea’s cryptocurrency system, stealing hundreds of millions of dollars. Their true goal is not money—but to recreate the lost homeland of Gaza on American soil.
Amid the backdrop of hardline Republican immigration policies and a growing wave of xenophobia, a quiet plan begins to take shape: the gradual collapse of America from within.
During a speech at Madison Square Garden, Republican presidential candidate Justin Bradford is shot. Almost simultaneously in Los Angeles, former president Owen Reed is attacked at a rally for Democratic hopeful Ryan Bennett.
Two assassinations—mirroring one another—ignite a nation’s deepest divide. Yet, against all odds, Justin survives. His blood type is one in 2.5 million: the Bombay Blood Group.
The only person who can donate such blood is Anaya Patel, a community art facilitator working in Brooklyn. Her blood, stored in the Bellevue Hospital Blood Bank, is used for an emergency transfusion that saves the candidate’s life.
Jack Vance, an agent of the U.S. Secret Service, suspects a Gaza-based network behind the attacks. Together with Cameron Bartlett, the FBI Director of the Los Angeles Field Office, and Veronica Reeves, a senior investigator from New York, he begins to uncover a vast conspiracy.
Their investigation leads them to Rafi Gannam, a former architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, who has infiltrated redevelopment sites across Los Angeles and New York—embedding C4 explosives deep within beams and structural cores.
His targets: new residential districts where agents of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) and ERO (Enforcement and Removal Operations) live—symbols of “the order America built.”
Veronica urges the President to pursue dialogue to prevent further destruction, but President Grant M. Ranford refuses to listen.
Meanwhile, the recovering Justin and his Democratic rival Ryan appear on national television, calling for unity beyond political divisions.
Their words of reason, however, are drowned out when Grant takes the stage in Iowa, defiantly declaring: “We will never bow to terror.”
Among the crowd, Rafi’s operatives have already taken their positions.
As chaos erupts and the stage collapses, Amir Nasser—once Rafi’s comrade, haunted by the memory of his sister’s death in Gaza—tries desperately to halt the chain of destruction.
But Rafi’s conviction remains unshaken.
Under the twilight beneath the Williamsburg Bridge, amid the city’s fading noise, the two men part ways.
It is the boundary between prayer and vengeance, between hope and nothingness.
“Characters”
Anaya Patel – 25, Community Art Facilitator
Arjun Singh – 26, Anaya’s boyfriend, Luminatech Innovations
Mika Sato – 25, Anaya’s friend, Community Art Facilitator
Justin Bradford – 27, Republican Presidential Candidate
Eleanor Blake – 26, Justin’s fiancée
President Grant M. Langford – 61, Incumbent Republican President
Vice President Charles “Chuck” Baines – 64, Incumbent Republican Vice President
Ryan Bennett – 30, Democratic Presidential Candidate
Sophia Bennett – 30, Ryan’s wife
Owen Reed – 65, Former Democratic President
Jack Vance – 45, Secret Service, Former FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Ben Holloway – 30, Jack’s colleague
Darryl Ross – 29, Jack’s colleague
Elijah Kane – 28, Jack’s colleague
Marcus Dane – 45, FBI Los Angeles Field Office
Cameron Bartlett – 55, FBI Los Angeles Field Office, Field Office Director
Tom Caldwell – 38, FBI Technical Unit, Marcus’s subordinate
Veronica Reeves – 41, FBI Special Agent
Alexander Harris – 52, FBI New York Field Office, Field Office Director
Elliot Chen – 36, Technology Unit Chief
Alicia Monroe – 58, FBI Director
Zakaria Haddad – 51, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Engineering Professor, New York Team
Amir Nasser – 23, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Former Islamic University Electronics Engineering, New York Team
Rafi Gannam – 32, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Rohan Shah – 29, Gaza Strip, Palestine; Islamic University, Architecture, New York Team
Majid Hamza – 47, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Information Technology, Los Angeles Team
Samira Hammad – 28, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Engineering, Los Angeles Team
Saeed Kabari – 35, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Business Administration, Los Angeles Team
Reem Nasser – 30, Gaza Strip, Palestine; University of Palestine, Media Studies, Los Angeles Team
Noah Levi – 55, Israel, residing in Tel Aviv, Jewish
Copyright © 2026 Mitsushiro Nakagawa.
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
[Important Notice] I previously announced that my new novel, B♭ (B-flat), would be released at the end of February 2026. However, due to my own shortcomings, I have decided to postpone the release to the following schedule:
•Best Case Scenario: March 16, 2026
•Likely Scenario: Late March 2026
•Worst Case Scenario: Early May 2026
I am truly sorry to everyone who has been looking forward to it. Recently, my son achieved a major goal of his own—and there is no way his father can fail to do the same. Please keep your expectations high and bear with me just a little longer.
B♭ will be released worldwide on February 29, 2026.
Recently, director Ridley Scott remarked that streaming films and series have become dull.
I agree.
If you have two hours to spare for such stories, I ask for only two minutes of your time.
Two minutes with my novel will outlast those two hours.
I am confident of that.
Stay tuned.
Mitsushiro
October 9th, 2025
P.S.
Micchan — the man who challenges Netflix. 😃
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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:: Soundtrack ::
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack )
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . For Japanese)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Sweet Summer rain ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-sweet-s...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Hard days ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-hard-da...
::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 402 _.Copyright©︎2026 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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Title:
ACE7
( LUMIX G3 shot )
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 7 / 10
(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）
Images:
The Marías - Over The Moon
youtu.be/6jiu9TlR11o?si=QZGI1FcCVofW55Br
今日は、僕の新しい小説の冒頭をアップロードします。
ほぼ、最終稿です。
（日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃）
B♭ ( B - Flat ) （1／９）【プロローグ】〈予兆〉
Mitsushiro Nakagawa, with ChatGPT 5.2
――恋に落ちる理由は、人によって違うけれど、恋に落ちていたとあとになって気づくことに、理由は要らない。
それを、私はほんとうの恋だと思う。
できればその瞬間、どこかから白く滲んだ光が差し込んでいたら、もっとわかりやすいのに。淡い光は人を包んで、忘れていた記憶をそっと呼び戻す。瞼を透かして、胸の奥まで照らしてしまう。
名も知らない誰かと出会い、その人のことを深く知るために――光は、ときどき必要だ。
その光はとても柔らかくてやさしいのに、あとから胸の奥に、そっと傷跡を残す。痛みはいずれ癒え、誰かを包み込むー
― ウィリアムズバーグ、ブルックリン、ニューヨーク ―
やわらかな光が、倉庫の高窓から差し込んでいた。昼近くだというのに、まだ目を覚ましきれないような淡い白さだ。床のざらついたコンクリートの上に、まばゆさがひっそり滲んでいるのを見て、搬入していたアナヤは一瞬足を止め、目を逸らした。
白いガムテープで四方に切られたブースの合間を、アーティストたちが忙しなく行き交っていた。半開きの搬入口からは低音の効いたヒップホップが流れ込み、床も壁も小さく震えている。シャッターの隙間から射す線のような陽が埃を金色に舞わせていた。
通路際の床に貼られた白いテープには『Sieve（シーヴ）』とある。アナとミカが予約したブース名だ。
アナヤが抱えてきたデッサンのノートを床へ並べていると、若いスーツの男が腰を落とした。無造作に積まれたノートの山から一冊抜き、頁をゆっくり繰っていく。褐色の肌の頬には、青い瞳が浮かんでいた。アナヤと同じ中東系の男性のようだった。彼の穏やかな視線が、描かれた作品の線をゆっくり辿っていた。
男は、アナの気配に気づくと微笑んだ。
「この作品は、君の？」
「ええ、私です」
「どうして鉛筆で？ ラフスケッチ？」
彼が見ていたのは、恋人アルジュンの横顔だった。窓際でノートパソコンに向かい、解けないものを解こうとしている真摯な目。いつも数字の羅列や幾何学模様の並んだプログラムの難しいディスプレイを熱く見つめている彼の眼差しにアナヤは惹かれていた。
窓から差し込んだ光の角度が、いまもアナの瞼の裏に鮮明に残っている。
「下書きじゃなくて、完成です。身近な道具が好きで……」
男は短く頷いた。笑うとき、目だけが先に笑って、口元が少し遅れた。
「男性は彼？」
「はい」
「そうなんだ。少し残念だな」
言い方は軽いのに、視線は硬かった。男は次の頁を繰った。
「こっちは…… 君のお母さん？」
アナは近づき、母の横顔を見た。キッチンの窓辺で、少し俯いている。あの頃の家の匂いが、胸の奥でふっと立ち上がった。スパイスと、焼ける油の気配だ。
母、サンギータがキッチンに立つと、家中がスパイスと香ばしいフェヌグリークの香りに包まれた。冬になると必ず作る「ウンディユ」は、祖母の代から伝わるレシピだった。ヒンドゥー教徒時代の伝統的な家庭料理で、改宗しても変わらなかったのは、この料理に込めた“家族の円”の記憶が消えなかったからだ。
アナヤにとって、それはインドの乾いた土の香りそのものだった。
「ええ、母です」
男は、触れるか触れないかの距離で、人差し指を絵の目元に滑らせた。
「……素晴らしい眼だ」
声は掠れていた。アナの胸がわずかにざわめいた。まるで描いた意図が、彼の発した言葉の前にあった、彼の眼差しから直接感じ取っていたようだった。
ミカが明るい笑顔のまま駆けてきた。小さな背中にF30のキャンバスを背負っている。彼女の背中のほぼ倍の大きさで、一枚の翼のようにも見えた。
「よかったら私のも見て。私はミカ」
人見知りをしないミカの軽やかな声に、男は手を差し出した。
「――僕はアミール。アミール・ナッセル」
彼はそう名乗って、口元だけをわずかに緩めた。笑みと呼ぶにはまだ淡かった。
澄んだ青い瞳を見返した瞬間、アナの胸のどこかで、幼いころに見た海がひらいた。波の立たない、煌めいた水平線――そんな錯覚が、遠い記憶から差し込んできた。
忙しなさが増した通路を、スマートフォンを打ち込みながら、足早にもう一人の男がやってきた。首元に濃い影を抱え、年上の気配が漂っていた。彼はアナを一瞥すると、アミールの耳元へ低い声を落とした。
「どうした。問題か？」
「いや」
アミールは穏やかに答えたが、その“穏やかさ”に静けさはなかった。
「ふたりともありがとう。また土曜日に」
アミールは再び笑顔を戻し、二人へそう言い、背を向けた。連れの男――ラフィが、最後まで固い目でアミールを睨んでいる。
去り際、アナはほんの一瞬だけ手にしていたラフィの画面が目に触れた。数字が幾何学的に並んでいた。数字は直線に並ばず、円弧に沿って整列していた。その小さな羅列には規則性があるようで角度と距離が正確に光っていた。
去っていく後ろ姿を見送りながら、ミカが何気なくつぶやいた。
「ねえ、あの二人…… お金の匂いしない？ しかも“派手”じゃなくて、シックに高価」
「どういう意味？」
「スーツ、触らなくてもわかるわ。生地が違う。――それに、今夜ガーデンで全国大会でしょ。関係者かな」
アナは「そうなんだ」と適当に返した。
展示会場のざわめきが更に増していた。光と影が折り重なる中で、喧騒の空気を熱くしていた。
だが、溢れる熱気の中で、アナにはひとつ戻らない感触があった。天窓から差し込んでいた白い光が、さっきよりも少し薄くなり、床の重い影に吸い込まれたようだった。
― ペン・プラザ、マンハッタン、ニューヨーク ―
午後一時を少し回ったころ、車列の影が第７番街をゆっくり滑り込んできた。警護車のボンネットに反射した陽光が、ビルの窓面を一瞬白く染めた。
助手席のジャック・ヴァンスは腕時計を見た。秒針の振動が、手首から胸へ微かな震えとして伝わってくる。
マジソン・スクエア・ガーデンには、人の流れと信号の点滅で、常に小さな渦ができていた。屋台の鉄板から立つ焦げと脂の匂いが、湿った空気に貼りつく。車線の向こうで、細いサックスが一音だけ伸びては切れ、喧噪の輪郭をいっそう鋭くした。ガーデンを撮影している観光客のスマートフォンの画面の群れが、現実より鮮やかにジャックには思えた。
ペン・プラザの外壁を覆う大型ビジョンには、《新・350 Park Avenue 再開発計画、始動》の文字列が淡々と、執拗に流れていた。背後の映像では建設途上の鉄骨が空を貫き、利益と成長の名のもとに組み上げられる資本主義の記念碑のように屹立している。それは、ジャックの生活圏とは交わらない未来だ。
だが、その文字列が一巡する前に、速報が割り込んだ。
『続いてニュース速報です。五年前に不正アクセスを受けた北朝鮮系の暗号資産をめぐり、追跡されたアクセス経路の一部が米国を経由していたと、朝鮮民主主義人民共和国の国営通信が報じました。声明は、「我が国の主権を侵す犯罪者には毅然として対処する」としています。』
大型ビジョンの下にある歩道は、人の流れがいつもより少し速い気がした。誰もがどこかへ急ぎ、足音だけが重なって、音の輪郭が曖昧になっていくようだった。今夜、ガーデンで演説する共和党大統領候補の警護を控えたジャックには、この速さがただの高揚には見えなかった。
その雑踏の縁を、グリッドウェイが一台、信号の切り替わりに合わせて滑り出した。グリッドウェイ・オートノマス・モビリティ社が昨年投入した自動運転タクシーは現在、マンハッタンを縦横無尽に駆け巡って大盛況だ。料金も安く、煩わしい運転手との関係もない。車体の脇に小さな「G」と、マンハッタンのグリッドを象徴する細い線が交差する格子の印が見えた。無人の車は、ジャックらを追い越し、ただの風景として街に吸い込まれていった。
その上空で、ガラスに反射した小さな影が一瞬揺れた。羽音は聞こえない。それでも、何かが見ている気配だけが残った。
ジャックは視線を動かさずに、影の位置だけを頭の中でなぞった。FBIの警護用UASセルだ。今回の警護のために、監視用ドローンが数台、ビルの合間を行き交っている。そう思った瞬間、街の喧噪が安堵の膜に覆われ、一枚隔てた向こうへ退いた。
ジャックは束の間目を閉じた。耳の裏の血流を感じた。沈黙の底流に潜んでいる任務の鼓動が微かに鳴った。警護は、目で見る仕事ではない。違和感を拾い、形になる前に潰す仕事だ。胸の内で、薄い膜が引きつるように緊張した。
ジャックは目を開くと、眼差しはもう都市の風景ではなく、別の何かを見据えていた。
― ビバリーヒルズ、ロサンゼルス ―
夕陽が丘を滑り落ちるころ、会員制レストラン〈サフロン・コート〉の重厚な扉の向こうで、空気が静かに重くたなびいていた。白布のテーブルに身を寄せた会員たちの銀食器が、触れては離れ、また触れた。その微かな金属音だけが、建物の奥で眠る心臓の鼓動みたいに、ゆっくり反復していく。
マジード・ハムザと彼のチームの卓には会話が欠けていた。誰も表情を崩さず、呼吸だけを整えている。
テーブル中央に置かれた黒光りの小型装置――幽声機《Whisper-04》が、場の中心を奪っていた。マジードがダイヤルに指を触れると、クリックの震えが掌へ返った。
「……0.4秒。間違いなく」
囁きは声帯を通らず、空気の表面だけを揺らした。装置が放ったものは音ではなく、沈黙の刃だった。
「Initiate（始めろ）」
命令は、言葉の形になる前に、電波の震えとなって夜の静寂へ滑り落ちた。
海を越えたのではない――いったん空へ逃げ、夜空の高みで幾度か跳ね返り、ニューヨークの倉庫の暗がりへ落ちていく合図だ。
マジードの手にしたタブレットに、淡い数字の弧がひと息だけ浮かんだ。直線ではなく、円弧に沿って並んでいる。彼はすぐに画面を伏せた。
テーブルの端で、サミラがスマートフォンに指を走らせ、画面を閉じた。数字とアルファベットの列が消え、熱だけが指先に残った。祈りのように静かな手つきだった。彼女は息をひとつ落とし、視線だけを動かした。
リナは、短波でニューヨークへ送った合図の点滅を見つめながら、周囲の歓談の笑い声からスマホを隠すように、グラスの影へ沈めた。週末の笑いの波が満ちているのに、この卓だけが、笑いに遅れたまま硬い。彼女は手元へ視線を戻した。
リナのアプリは、ひとりずつのための小さな相談室だった。相手の言葉を否定せず、同じ温度で抱きしめる声。左へ傾く者には左のまま寄り添い、右へ傾く者には右のまま頷く――誰もが欲しいのは、反論ではなく肯定だと知っている。
肯定の糸は、やがて胸の奥で固く結び目になり、ほどけない溝だけを深くしていった。煽る必要さえない。受け入れられた瞬間、考えは芯を得て、静かに硬化するのだ。
レストランを満たす笑い声は続いているのに、このテーブルの周りだけ、音が一段薄くなっていた。
― レッドフック、ブルックリン、ニューヨーク ―
潮を含んだ錆の鉄扉が、かすかに震えた。倉庫の中は暗く、差し込んだ街灯の残照だけが床のコンクリートに細い線を引いている。長い年月によって床へ染み込んだ油と埃の匂いが、ゆっくりと肺に入ってきた。
アミール・ナッセルは薄闇の中で膝を折り、作業台の赤い点滅を見つめていた。規則正しいそれは、深い沈黙の中に埋もれている。点いては消える光が、彼の記憶を掬い上げていた。
アミールはゆっくり立ち上がると、テーブルにあった黒い筐体の角に触れた。冷たい感触が記憶を鮮明にした。短波を拾う黒い筐体、《Whisper-04》。耳で拾えないものを受け止めるための薄い器官だ。
アミールは自作したそれに触れながら、呟いた。
「……ヤーラ」
妹の名が祈りのようについて出たが、祈りには届かず、作業場の隅の闇へ吸い込まれていった。
そのとき、空気がわずかに沈んだ。音ではない。匂いでもない。だが何かが“届いた”感触だけがあった。W-04の赤い点滅が、一拍だけ遅れた。緊張していたアミールの喉の奥は、ひどく乾き、ひりついていた。
倉庫の扉が軋んだ。忍んできた足音は重く、乱れてはいない。
ラフィだった。作業着には鉄粉が散り、昼の喧噪をまだ抱えていた。
倉庫の奥で、ユスフが小さなランタンに火を灯した。一瞬、炎が揺れ、暗がりに薄い輪郭を浮かせては消えている。
「遅かったな」
アミールが赤い点滅を見やったまま、いった。
「監督がしつこくてな。だが――“設置”は予定通り終えた」
疲れの滲んだ声で、ラフィは、見入っているアミールの赤い点滅を一瞥した。
「そっちは？」
「動作確認は済んだ。動いてる。安定してる。五年前に作ったものを、いま作り直した。……手が覚えてる。マジードは『始めろ』だって。せっかちな奴だ」
作業台の端の暗がりにいたレイラのヘッドホンの片耳がわずかにずれ、金具が冷たい光を返した。コーヒーを手にして隣の倉庫からやってきたナディールがそれを差し出し、無言で掛け直してやった。レイラは“音のない音”に再び耳を澄ませ、じっと赤い点滅に見入っている。
もう一度、扉が鳴った。ロハンが入ってきた。袖をまくり、手にしたビジネスバッグの革に、外の熱がまだじっとりと残っている。
「……教授は？」
ラフィが訊いた。
ロハンは答える前に、視線を伏せた。その沈黙がひどく長く感じられ、アミールらは気づかぬうちに息を止めた。
「ザカリア教授は―― 隣の、準備した倉庫へ直接向かった。言づけだ。“すべてを、お前たちに託す”と」
アミールの胸の奥に、冷たい針が刺さった。もちろんアミールだけではなく、ラフィもユスフもレイラもナディールもだ。
暗がりの隅で、ナディールが小さな布の包みを開いた。白いガーゼと消毒の匂いが一瞬だけ立ち、すぐに油と埃に呑まれた。
薄いライトの火が揺れ、影が床に長く伸びて重なった。
W-04の赤い点滅は、狂うことなく正確に刻んでいる。
ラフィが掠れた声で言った。
「……自戒の意味を教えよう。この国に」
アミールも誰も返答はしなかった。
その沈黙が、選んだ道の輪郭をはっきり描いていた。
【本作品の著作権は Mitsushiro Nakagawa に帰属します。
内容の全部または一部を、著者の許可なく複製・転載・改変することを禁じます。】
予告
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僕の新しい小説
B♭ （ビーフラット）
Mitsushiro Nakagawa, with ChatGPT 5.2
“あらすじ”
北朝鮮の仮想通貨システムをハッキングし、数億ドルを奪取したガザ出身のパレスチナ人グループが、アメリカ合衆国へ密かに潜入する。
彼らの目的は、失われた祖国ガザを、アメリカの地に「復元」することだった。
共和党による強硬な移民政策と、国内にくすぶる排外感情を利用し、アメリカ社会を内側から崩壊させる計画が静かに進行していく。
共和党大統領候補ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードがマディソン・スクエア・ガーデンで演説中に狙撃され、ほぼ同時刻、ロサンゼルスでは前大統領オーウェン・リードもまた、民主党候補ライアン・ベネットの集会で撃たれる。
国家を二分する双方向の暗殺。だが、ジャスティンは奇跡的に生還する。
彼の血液型は、世界でわずか250万人に一人といわれる「ボンベイブラッド」。
その希少な血を提供できたのは、ブルックリンで活動するコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター、アナヤ・パテルだった。
彼女の血液はベルビュー病院の血液バンクに保存されており、緊急輸血によって、候補者の命はかろうじて繋がれた。
シークレットサービスのジャック・バンスは、テロの背後にガザ出身の組織が関与していることを察知し、FBIロサンゼルス支局長官キャメロン・バートレット、ニューヨーク支局の特別捜査官ヴェロニカ・リーブスと共に捜査を進める。
やがて彼らは、イスラム大学で建築学を学んだラフィ・ガンナムが、ロサンゼルスやニューヨークの再開発現場に潜入し、梁や構造体の中枢にC4爆薬を仕込んでいた事実に辿り着く。
標的は、ICE（移民・関税執行局）やERO（執行・送還作戦部門）の職員が暮らす新興住宅街——すなわち、「アメリカが築いた秩序」そのものだった。
ヴェロニカは、これ以上の破壊を防ぐため、大統領への対話を進言するが、現職のグラント・ランフォード大統領は耳を貸さない。
一方、命を取り留めたジャスティンと民主党候補ライアンは、テレビを通じて国民に訴えかけ、分断を乗り越えようとする。
だが、その理性の声を嘲笑うかのように、グラントはアイオワ州での演説を強行し、「テロには屈しない」と宣言する。
その会場には、すでにラフィの仲間が率いる工作チームが潜入していた。
崩壊する会場の惨状を前に、仲間の一人アミール・ナッセルは、かつてガザで妹を失った記憶に引き裂かれ、破壊の連鎖を止めようとする。
だが、ラフィの信念は揺るがない。
ウィリアムズバーグ橋の下、夕暮れの喧騒のなか、二人は決別する。
それは、祈りと報復、希望と虚無の境界線だった——。
“登場人物”
アナヤ・パテル ２５歳 コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
アルジュン・シン ２６歳 アナヤの恋人・ルミナテック・イノベーションズ社
佐藤 ミカ ２５歳 アナの友人・コミュニティアート・ファシリテーター
ジャスティン・ブラッドフォード ２７歳 共和党大統領候補
エリノア・ブレイク ２６歳 ジャスティンの婚約者
グラント・M・ランフォード大統領 ６１歳 共和党大統領現職
チャールズ・ベインズ副大統領 ６４歳 共和党副大統領現職
ライアン・ベネット ３０歳 民主党大統領候補
ソフィア・ベネット ３０歳 ライアンの妻
オーウェン・リード ６５歳 民主党前大統領
ジャック・バンス ４５歳 シークレットサービス 元FBIロサンゼルス支局
ベン・ホロウェイ ３０歳 ジャックの同僚
ダリル・ロス ２９歳 ジャックの同僚
イライジャ・ケイン ２８歳 ジャックの同僚
マーカス・デイン ４５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局
キャメロン・バートレット ５５歳 FBI ロサンゼルス支局 支局長
トム・コールドウェル ３８歳 FBI技術班 マーカスの部下
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス ４１歳 FBI特別捜査官
アレクサンダー・ハリス ５２歳 FBI ニューヨーク支局 支局長
エリオット・チェン ３６歳 テクノロジー班主任
アリシア・モンロー ５８歳 FBI長官
ザカリア・ハッダード ５１歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 工学部教授 ニューヨークチーム
アミール・ナッセル ２３歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 元イスラム大学 電子工学部 ニューヨークチーム
ラフィ・ガンナム ３２歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
ロハン・シャー ２９歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 イスラム大学 建築学部 ニューヨークチーム
マジード・ハムザ ４７歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 情報技術学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サミラ・ハンマド ２８歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 工学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
サイード・カバリ ３５歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 経営学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
リーム・ナセル ３０歳 パレスチナ・ガザ地区 パレスチナ大学 メディア学部 ロサンゼルスチーム
ノア・レヴィ 55歳 イスラエル テルアビブ在住 ユダヤ人
本作品の著作権は Mitsushiro Nakagawa に帰属します。
内容の全部または一部を、著者の許可なく複製・転載・改変することを禁じます。
【重要なお知らせ】
当初、新しい小説、B♭（B-flat）の発表を２０２６年２月末日でお知らせしていましたが、
私の無能さのため、以下のスケージュールへ延期します。
最短の場合。
２０２６年３月１６日
通常の場合。
２０２６年３月下旬。
最悪の場合。
２０２６年５月上旬。
期待されていた方には本当に申し訳ございません。
今回、僕の息子が目標を達成していますので、そのお父さんが達成しないわけがありません。
上記のスケジュール。
期待して、今しばらくお待ちください。
僕のこの小説は、来年、２０２６年２月末日に公開します。
先日、リドリースコット監督がサブスクの映画やドラマ群がつまらないと話していたようだけど、同感です。
僕も非常に退屈です。
それらに2時間を要するなら、僕の小説を２分間だけ読んで欲しい。
その2分間は、２時間を越えるでしょう。
僕は自信があります。
ぜひ、期待してお待ちください。
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
09th. Oct . 2025.
追伸
ネトフリに挑戦する男、みっちゃん。😃
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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:: Soundtrack ::
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack )
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . For Japanese)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Sweet Summer rain ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-sweet-s...
B♭ ( My Novel . Soundtrack . Hard days ver.)
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-hard-da...
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Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 402 _.Copyright©︎2026 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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My neighbors' across the street, and the first night shot with my new iPhone. Both our houses built in 1925 and the have a huge collection of vintage CHRISTmas decorations. Not a sign of Jesus in sight. Jesus is the reason for the Season!
Belfast (/ˈbɛl.fɑːst/ or /ˈbɛl.fæst/; from Irish: Béal Feirste, meaning "mouth of the sandbanks") is the capital and largest city of Northern Ireland, on the River Lagan. At the 2011 census, it had a population of 286,000. Belfast was granted city status in 1888.
Belfast was a centre of the Irish linen, tobacco processing, rope-making and shipbuilding industries: in the early 20th century, Harland and Wolff, which built the RMS Titanic, was the biggest and most productive shipyard in the world. Belfast played a key role in the Industrial Revolution, and was a global industrial centre until the latter half of the 20th century. Industrialisation and the inward migration it brought made Belfast the biggest city in Ireland at the beginning of the 20th century, and industrial and economic success was cited by unionist opponents of Home Rule as a reason why Ulster should fight to resist it.
Today, Belfast remains a centre for industry, as well as the arts, higher education, business, and law, and is the economic engine of Northern Ireland. The city suffered greatly during the period of conflict called "the Troubles", but latterly has undergone a sustained period of calm, free from the intense political violence of former years, and substantial economic and commercial growth. Additionally, Belfast city centre has undergone considerable expansion and regeneration in recent years, notably around Victoria Square.
Belfast is served by two airports: George Best Belfast City Airport in the city, and Belfast International Airport 15 miles (24 km) west of the city. Belfast is a major port, with commercial and industrial docks dominating the Belfast Lough shoreline, including the Harland and Wolff shipyard, and is listed by the Globalization and World Cities Research Network (GaWC) as a global city.
Name
The name Belfast is derived from the Irish Béal Feirsde, which was later spelled Béal Feirste. The word béal means "mouth" or "rivermouth" while feirsde/feirste is the genitive singular of fearsaid and refers to a sandbar or tidal fordacross a river's mouth. The name would thus translate literally as "(river) mouth of the sandbar" or "(river) mouth of the ford". This sandbar was formed at the confluence of two rivers at what is now Donegall Quay: the Lagan, which flows into Belfast Lough, and its tributary the Farset. This area was the hub around which the original settlement developed. The Irish name Béal Feirste is shared by a townland in County Mayo, whose name has been anglicised as Belfarsad.
An alternative interpretation of the name is "mouth of [the river] of the sandbar", an allusion to the River Farset, which flows into the Lagan where the sandbar was located. This interpretation was favoured by Edmund Hoganand John O'Donovan. It seems clear, however, that the river itself was named after the tidal crossing.
In Ulster Scots the name of the city is Bilfawst or Bilfaust, although "Belfast" is also used.
History
The site of Belfast has been occupied since the Bronze Age. The Giant's Ring, a 5,000-year-old henge, is located near the city, and the remains of Iron Age hill forts can still be seen in the surrounding hills. Belfast remained a small settlement of little importance during the Middle Ages. John de Courcy built a castle on what is now Castle Street in the city centre in the 12th century, but this was on a lesser scale and not as strategically important as Carrickfergus Castle to the north, which was built by de Courcy in 1177. The O'Neill clan had a presence in the area.
In the 14th century, Cloinne Aodha Buidhe, descendants of Aodh Buidhe O'Neill built Grey Castle at Castlereagh, now in the east of the city. Conn O'Neill of the Clannaboy O'Neills owned vast lands in the area and was the last inhabitant of Grey Castle, one remaining link being the Conn's Water river flowing through east Belfast.
Belfast became a substantial settlement in the 17th century after being established as a town by Sir Arthur Chichester, which was initially settled by Protestant English and Scottish migrants at the time of the Plantation of Ulster. (Belfast and County Antrim, however, did not form part of this particular Plantation scheme as they were privately colonised.) In 1791, the Society of United Irishmen was founded in Belfast, after Henry Joy McCracken and other prominent Presbyterians from the city invited Theobald Wolfe Tone and Thomas Russell to a meeting, after having read Tone's "Argument on Behalf of the Catholics of Ireland". Evidence of this period of Belfast's growth can still be seen in the oldest areas of the city, known as the Entries.
Belfast blossomed as a commercial and industrial centre in the 18th and 19th centuries and became Ireland's pre-eminent industrial city. Industries thrived, including linen, rope-making, tobacco, heavy engineering and shipbuilding, and at the end of the 19th century, Belfast briefly overtook Dublin as the largest city in Ireland. The Harland and Wolff shipyards became one of the largest shipbuilders in the world, employing up to 35,000 workers. In 1886 the city suffered intense riots over the issue of home rule, which had divided the city.
In 1920–22, Belfast became the capital of the new entity of Northern Ireland as the island of Ireland was partitioned. The accompanying conflict (the Irish War of Independence) cost up to 500 lives in Belfast, the bloodiest sectarian strife in the city until the Troubles of the late 1960s onwards.
The Troubles
Belfast has been the capital of Northern Ireland since its establishment in 1921 following the Government of Ireland Act 1920. It had been the scene of various episodes of sectarian conflict between its Catholic and Protestant populations. These opposing groups in this conflict are now often termed republican and loyalist respectively, although they are also referred to as 'nationalist' and 'unionist'. The most recent example of this conflict was known as the Troubles – a civil conflict that raged from around 1969 to 1998.
Belfast saw some of the worst of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, particularly in the 1970s, with rival paramilitary groups formed on both sides. Bombing, assassination and street violence formed a backdrop to life throughout the Troubles. The Provisional IRA detonated 22 bombs within the confines of Belfast city centre in 1972, on what is known as "Bloody Friday", killing eleven people. Loyalist paramilitaries including the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and the Ulster Defence Association (UDA) claimed that the killings they carried out were in retaliation for the IRA campaign. Most of their victims were Catholics with no links to the Provisional IRA. A particularly notorious group, based on the Shankill Road in the mid-1970s, became known as the Shankill Butchers.
In all, over 1,600 people were killed in political violence in the city between 1969 and 2001. Sporadic violent events continue as of 2015, although not supported by the previous antagonists who had reached political agreement in 1998.
One of the secret reasons why we moved to Vienna: the old-style tramways
Taken on World 127 Day 2015.
Uno de los motivos secretos por los que nos vinimos a vivir a Viena: los tranvías antiguos.
Tomada en el Día Mundial 127 2015.
Zeiss Ikon Baby Ikonta 521/18
Carl Zeiss Jena Tessar 50mm 1:3.5
Rera Pan 100, ISO 100/21º
A singer in New York. Look her music in iTunes. She's have a fantastic voice.
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Cantante a New York. Cerca la sua musica su iTunes. Lei ha una voce fantastica.
Shooting Sistiana-Singer
Shot and editing: by me
I can not stop myself, I know I will do it again, by the dead stones by the bridge, in the trembling lights surrounding us and the students inviting you to come visit the campus, explaining with their broken English how funny the students are and how beautiful the town can be with the good friends and you cannot be sad because it's home.
I can not stop myself, I will do it again, walking with you in the park under the bridges line, silver sparkles the waterway, down to the bridge, shaking the money, yelling at the bus skipping like stones, screaming out loud and I don’t know what you are talking about.
And I can feel your mind decaying, only inches away from me.
Everywhere waves of little bodies scattered go and noisy and laughing at the slow ride. Things are almost getting better, dressing better, tossing sugar-cubes and smiles over our shoulders and I was somewhere else all the time and now I'm still somewhere else and Muse, she got her job, she gets tired, lazy and sweet as she is.
I can not stop myself, I will do it again, smile, light up the room, laughing is contagious, light up on the inside, no one would know. At heart you are fanatical.
Your speech pattern has changed. Words are clipped and the pronunciation precise. I enjoy your seductive voice, it conveys that you know what you want. A quick dip under and it's clear, feminine, green, half submerged gestures ticking "OK", opening in a "V", more structures that I can describe. Just like everyone I want more time.
I remember sketching for you, nailing a good geometry, fitting and folding, taping and learning, Bach, a turn of other feelings. When I catch you walking in spreading the noise, clothes, faces, then leaning down Gare Montparnasse. Stand still, leaving a round of buses, planes, the cartoon treatment. I ask you for postcards. Right out of St. Michel and along Left Bank, the stands I caress, your carcass, the tiny people exchanging and talking politics and the bookstore right on Deux Magot.
And I'll take care of you, I promise, when you come back.
Chinasky was downed yesterday, you do not know. The guns are shining, quietly, humming and keeping me company. I will not miss. When you come back. And I will do it again.
Note for Group Admins: The author of this text is myself.
the experience is only as special as you wish it to be or remember it to be....
this area is special to me in more ways than a photo opportunity.
when i was 3 or 4 years old , i remember my father bringing me here to fish. and even though
i only stayed in the car, i can remember vividly hearing fog horns and seeing the bridge in fog as we sat in the car (not too different than what you see here)
and anxiously awaiting the fish to bite. it was such a special precious childhood memory for me with my dad here.
i hope in sharing these photos you will find your own reasons for enjoying your part of the world and sharing with us your piece of memory to why you are passionate about what you see, feel and document.
A straw bag for summer
I bought this bag in May or June for this summer season but I didn't use so much for some reasons...
Maybe it was too big for me, that's why about it...
Somehow I felt the light on the bag doesn't look in summer already. It's a little sad..
Cooper's Hawk feasting on what was probably a Mourning Dove. Maple, Ontario, Canada.
Every now and then it would take a break from eating and call a few times. Not sure if it was just warning other birds off, or if this was for some other reason.
Thanks for stopping by and view this photo. The reason for posting this photo on Flickr is to learn so if you have constructive feedback regarding what I could do better and / or what should I try, drop me a note I would love to hear your input.
View on Black the way it should be seen!
-- Let the sound of the shutter always guide you to new ventures.
© 2022 Winkler
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We humans tend to think in straight lines when we rely on only our reason. The Earth tends to feel its way. This is illustrated in the differences in line in this aerial photo of a breakwater jutting into the delicate meanderings of the Fraser Delta.
Single RAW file converted to pseudoHDR.
One of the reason we pick late Winter to visit #Iceland was to be able to see and an incredible experience going through an IceCave and walk over a Glacier. The ice cave we visited was in Vatnajökull National Park. Our guide, @fromcoasttomountains, picked the perfect time slot for us to see…no mass tourists around, just our group.
I felt like this photo fit for some reason. I don't even know why. Just somewhere along the middle of this, I dreamt of this idea and knew I had to.
Well here goes the speech. (You know I mean it when I'm using proper capitalization).
When I started out, I knew nothing. I was just fooling around with my dad's camera, and didn't think much of it. But then I found Flickr. it was like my own personal Narnia. I'm completely serious. I'm pretty sure this is one of the best things that have happened to me. Everyone on here was so helpful and friendly. I immediately became addicted. The 365 project was just something I had stumbled across on a few people's stream. It was a spur of the moment type thing and I thought, how hard could it be?
Okay, I was way in over my head. This was the most difficult challenge of my life. But in the end, improving my photography skills was only one thing I got out of it. I learned more about myself as a photographer, as a person, everything. I also met some of the most incredible, brilliant, hilarious people. People I didn't even know existed a year ago. It was like this brand new world opened up, swallowed me whole, and brought out a different person. I began seeing things differently, observing more, thinking more, believing more. It was wonderful.
So now, I would like to thank some people.
First of all, my parents and sister for being there and supporting me.
My friends/models who were willing to do crazy things like publicly humiliate themselves just so I could get a good picture.
And finally, all you guys. All of you that have stuck with me from the beginning. All of you that have joined in the middle, or have only just discovered my stream. Anyone who has ever commented or favorited or viewed. Anyone whose photos I've ever looked at. Thank you for the motivation. Thank you for being the most inspiring, beautiful people I've ever known.
I'll see you soon. (: