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Izzie has the Age Yourself lines out at the Spoonful of Sugar Festival, donating 100% to MSF/Doctors Without Borders! You can go from subtle to not-so-subtle, and I love them.
Also showing off Glam Affairs Imogen skin on Lelutka's Lake head and the fabulous Grunge lashes from alaskametro<3
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Location: ° At The Green Story <- click to get the landmark
A stone's throw from Jerusalem
I walked a lonely mile in the moonlight
And though a million stars were shining
My heart was lost on a distant planet
That whirls around the April moon
Whirling in an arc of sadness
I'm lost without you. I'm lost without you
Though all my kingdoms turn to sand
And fall into the sea
I'm mad about you. I'm mad about you
And from the dark secluded valleys
I heard the ancient songs of sadness
But every step I thought of you
Every footstep only you
And every star a grain of sand
The leavings of a dried up ocean
Tell me, how much longer? How much longer?
They say a city in the desert lies
The vanity of an ancient king
But the city lies in broken pieces
Where the wind howls and the vultures sing
These are the works of man
This is the sum of our ambition
It would make a prison of my life
If you became another's wife
With every prison blown to dust
My enemies walk free
I'm mad about you. I'm mad about you
And I have never in my life
Felt more alone than I do now
Although I claim dominions over all I see
It means nothing to me
There are no victories
In all our histories, without love
And though you hold the keys to ruin
Of everything I see
With every prison blown to dust,
My enemies walk free
Though all my kingdoms turn to sand
And fall into the sea
I'm mad about you. I'm mad about you
Thank you for helping me make this picture so perfect!
"MosaicMontageMonday"
"Purple Mystique" "HMMM"
With heartfelt and genuine thanks for your kind visit. Have a beautiful day, be well, keep your eyes open, appreciate the beauty surrounding you, enjoy creating, stay safe, and laugh often! ❤️❤️❤️
There are literally hundreds, if not thousands of abandoned homes strewn throughout the countryside in Alberta. They did not fall out of the sky, but rather, were thoughtfully placed with the intentions of building a life within the four walls and a roof - a very long time ago.
When I come across these homesteads, I just have to stop. I don’t know why I am drawn to these old relics. Fossils of the past. It is as if can hear their heart beat in the solitude of the countryside.
Who lived here? What kind of life did they have? Did they conquer their hardships or challenges? It is without a doubt that the occupants encountered insurmountable struggles.
I try to imagine the essence of the house. Were there moments of joy and contentment despite the harshness and difficulties of the environment? I find it incredulous that it still stands even though it has been ravaged by time.
My imagination begins to percolate.
I want to hear the happy, contagious squeals of children giggling as they raced to the warmth of their beds at night; the sound of Mother humming as she lovingly brushed her daughter’s hair by the fire, or Father whistling with an air of fulfillment at a satisfying day of work that had been done and in anticipation of the hot meal waiting for him as he walked in, through the door. Goals, dreams and aspirations were quietly shared in the secrecy of night. Stolen kisses and affirmations of love and commitment were whispered as the children slept.
I wonder if this house had been enough for them? Why did they leave? What were their parting thoughts as they turned the key for that one last time? So many questions. No answers…
I snap a photo of the old gal.
I start driving down the lonely road but take one last look in my rearview mirror. I see a house surrounded by mass plantings of flowers, a thriving garden, chickens milling about and a clothesline that has a congregation of well worn clothes that are being gently seduced by an unusually warm summer breeze. The children are playing Kick-the-can out in the fields.
The joy of their laughter is a welcome sound to their Mother and Father who are sitting together on the porch sipping lemonade and enjoying a respite from the monotony of chores. No words pass between them. They bask in the silence of their mutual contentment.
I see a house that was once brimming with life and love. It stands proud and tenacious as a testament to those who happen to pass by on this lonely country road and those who have the ears to hear the echoes of laughter wafting in the wind, proclaiming that this house was more than four walls and a roof - it was a home…
Some things change, some things remain the same.
Southwest Arizona, USA.
The vista from the back porch. Circa July, 2004.
Kodak DC280 point and shoot 1.2 megapixel camera.
No crop. No post processing.
Happy new year from Colombo, Sri Lanka. Long story short, I decided to establish my tripod just beneath a nest of crows and ended up being pooed upon for most of the evening. Problem is once you start taking a picture, you can't move for one hour! What i wouldn't do for a good picture!
Anita and I were driving along a little country road, just enjoying the day when I spotted a cat in running / creeping mode and I said watch out for that cat Anita (she was driving as usual). The cat kept coming and then Anita said, there's one in the road already...... My eyes swiveled back to the road and noted what I thought was a calico colored cat sitting in the road and then back to the other cat. By the time my eyes swiveled back again the one in the road was up and flying! Of course then I realized it was a hawk and up came the camera! We approached very slowly and he flew up onto this branch his peaceful afternoon lunch interrupted by a cat and two crazy humans. Never did see what happened to the cat who thought He was going to have a nice Hawk for lunch! After several miles the road we were on petered out to a dead end and when we returned, the 'possum was still there but both the hawk and the cat had gone their separate ways.
Story illustration of my childhood...
m.youtube.com/watch?v=j64H2aWWU0E
Green Green Grass of Home
Song by Tom Jones
The old hometown looks the same
As I step down from the train
And there to meet me is my mama and papa
Dow the road I look and there runs Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, they'll all come to meet me
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
Listen
... The old house is still standing
Though the paint is cracked and dry
And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on
Down the lane, I walk with my sweet Mary
Hair of gold and lips like cherries
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home
... Yes, they'll all come to see me
In the shade of that old oak tree
Then I awake and look around me
At four grey walls that surround me
And I realize, yes, I was only dreaming
For there's a guard and there's a sad, old padre
On and on, we'll walk at daybreak
Again, I'll touch the green, green grass of home
As they lay me
'Neath the green, green grass of home...
...
● W E A T H E R:
● Winter
● South
● 9° C
● 48° F
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8/22/2022 12 P.M.
7/28/2023 7 P.M.
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Analogica, Fujica St 605 ( 1976 ) con esposimetro guasto, kodak color 200 asa, l' obiettivo non lo ricordo ma credo fosse lo Zeiss Pancolar 50 mm 1.8 f.
Picture might be available without watermark for free, just DM.
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