Simultaneously photos on Flickr

Simultaneous arrivals at Dorval by Michael Berry

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VIA 62 on the left and VIA 67 at right are arriving at Dorval Station simultaneously. Generally VIA trains in either direction will only be on the south track, so it's rare to see a meet like this.

West Coast Passing by Rob Class66

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Both departing simultaneously, 390001 Bee Together heads south with 1M13 Carlisle to London Euston, while 390134 City of Carlisle heads north with 9S70 London Euston to Preston.

The Strawberry Full Moon by Steve Maskell

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Hoping to have seen a glorious sunset and the simultaneous rising of tonight's Strawberry Full Moon, but sadly there was just too much cloud around to oblige.

Simultaneous Departures from LAX by 320-ROC

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Parallel departures at LAX- Delta Airlines Boeing 737-832 N387DA from runway 25R, and Virgin America Airbus A320-214 from the north complex. April 5, 2017. Delta 344 LAX-SJD.

Off Balance by Dave

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Dense fog distorts my senses in a way that is simultaneously disconcerting yet thrilling. The liminal quality of spaces such as this scene is overwhelmingly immersive. I feel so much more than indifferent observer. Images such as this exist only because I involve myself in the space, become a part of it, and quite literally allow it envelop me.

One of my many fascinations with fog is the sense that clarity exists only within arm's reach. It's the same way my mind perceives life when I'm dreaming. The entire world surrounds me, but it becomes progressively murky as it recedes in distance. I behold only what my mind prioritizes even while I have peripheral awareness of my surroundings. Likewise, fog has the effect of cordoning me into a small space even when I am outdoors in the middle of a large expanse such as stubble field. I desperately want to enter that nebulous threshold where the trees vanish into the fog, but it's an unapproachable boundary. It exists visually, but its not a physical space. I live for visual contradictions such as this.

Lammergeiers by Stephen Davis

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Gypaetus barbatus

I was slightly surprised that in fact the Griffon Vultures are bigger than the Lammergeiers when seen together, but both are massive and impressive when seen in flight !

As a final surprise to our time with these magnificent birds; both adults arrived simultaneously - apart a rare event !!!

forms by Aurelia

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"To take photographs means to recognize - simultaneously and within a fraction of a second - both the fact itself and the rigorous organization of visually perceived forms that give it meaning. It is putting one's head, one's eye and one's heart on the same axis."

-Henri Cartier-Bresson

hi, we're back from a fabulous trip to Amsterdam,

jet-lagged and sleep-deprived...

BIG thanks to you Mister HWM Z-man, huub zeeman

an absolute pleasure meeting and hanging out.

so much fun, hugs my friend

Done for

happy sliderssunday!

♥

The Simultaneous Corner by Richard S Warner

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An piece in the ongoing project which uses extreme panoramic scanning to produce imagery that proposes mulit-directional simultaneity. Here 3 different directions, Left to Right, East, South and West appear to be one direction.

Formally, it's all about using the frame and the iPhone camera to create abstract composition. Light, direction, hierarchy in traditional senses are brought into a single view that relies on the sublimation of these as distinct qualities.

A fun way to see things.

See My Online Blog: visionheartblog.wordpress.com

W9 Supermoon lunar eclipse Sept. 2015 by femtoe

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Two celestial events occurred simultaneously, a supermoon and a lunar eclipse. The last time this happened was in 1982. The next time this will happen will be 2033. Roughly 10 minutes between each shot with less during eclipse phase.

The red moon is possible because while the moon is in total shadow, some light from the sun passes through Earth’s atmosphere and is bent toward the moon. While other colors in the spectrum are blocked and scattered by Earth’s atmosphere, red light tends to make it through easier.

Trains head out of Quorn by Peter Leigh

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Simultaneous departures North and South during the GCR Last Hurrah event

F9 Trio Entering Price Canyon by James Belmont

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The Rio Grande Zephyr train No. 17 emerges from the Helper/Martin area while simultaneously entering Price Canyon near Utah Railway Junction the evening of June 30, 1977.

Rare fish and behavior - 2 of 3 by Gérard Cachon

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Continuing with rare fish. This is a hamlet, but a hybrid hamlet that we have never seen other than this one specimen.

Hamlets don't create a lot of excitement among most divers (you don't hear people at the dive shop announcing that they found a hamlet) but I do like paying attention to them. On Bonaire the barred, butter and yellowtail hamlets are relatively common. The tan and black are uncommon. The shy hamlet is rare (we have only spotted one) and the shy will create excitement among the fish cognoscenti.

But this hamlet is none of them. It must be a hybrid. My guess is between butter (the yellow cream color), the barred (streaks on the nose) and a tan (black dot before tail fin), but that wouldn't explain the blues and purples.

Hamlets are one of the few vertebrates that are simultaneous hermaphrodites (i.e., both male and female at the same time).

Old River Swing Bridge(wide) by mikeSF_

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This pano is so wide it is looking up river and down river simultaneously.

2307_0152 Double Leap by James R. Page

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A Northern Harrier and a grasshopper simultaneously take to the air, as the "What's A Summer Without Critters?" set continues. Here's how it unfolded:

Almost two weeks earlier, in June, I had been attacked by a harrier about one kilometre from this spot. It swooped and dive-bombed me repeatedly, so it must have been protecting a nearby nest. I posted several photos of the incident. Fast forward to early July, and I was trying to photograph the wind - a vert difficult subject, to say the least. Suddenly there was a new sound, behind me at close range, a sort of rushing/flapping sound that caused me to instinctively duck, and sure enough, the Grey Ghost went zipping past my head, very close and very fast. Had to be the same bird!

It circled and made another pass, not as close - probably because it could see that I was aware - and then dropped to land on a hilltop, where it looked down at me, watching. At this point, instead of a quick retreat like I had done the other time, I decided to walk toward it to show that I wasn't afraid or intimidated. Maybe it would go away. Maybe I could get a shot as it took to the air.

And that's what happened: the harrier leaped into the air - the leaping grasshopper was an unexpected bonus - and instead of swooping at me again, it drifted on the breeze to a nearby field of sunflowers, where it hovered and dipped and dived in search of small rodents. Finally, boundaries established!

In all my years of wildlife photography, I have never been harassed like this by a raptor. But I know two other people in the area who had similar experiences this summer, perhaps with the same bird. Such boldness was amazing to encounter. Exciting, too!

Photographed near the boundary of Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2023 James R. Page - all rights reserved.

gratitude by Joy Jordan

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like this leaf, i feel simultaneously delicate and bold; blurry and focused; vulnerable and brave. honoring darkness yet reaching for light: looking for the good in myself, others, and the world. it’s thanksgiving week here in the states. i give thanks to you, flickr friends! i’m grateful for your kindness and support. i’m grateful for your inspiring photography. i’m grateful we're here together.

---

facebook: born joy: mindfulness

Teal in a reflective mood by Tim Melling

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This drake Teal decided to indulge in a simultaneous wing and leg stretch after sitting motionless for some time. It was on a small island and the conditions were just right for a mirror reflection. Even though it was in bright sunshine the angle was wrong to catch the green iridescence in its speculum, which is Latin for mirror and is that shiny patch at the back of the wing. Exactly like the iridescence on a Hummingbird's throat, the speculum just looks black unless you catch it at the right angle. For interest this is the same Teal and you can see the speculum's iridescent green on the closed wing: www.flickr.com/photos/timmelling/52460114490/in/dateposted/

The colours on a duck's speculum (and a Hummingbird's throat) are not created by pigments like most coloured feathers. The beautiful green iridescence is formed by refraction of light through a microscopically thin transparent layer on the feathers. Light reflects off both the front and back of this layer and the light travels slower through the layer causing minute phase differences in the light which creates colours. Miniscule differences in the thickness of the layers create different colours. The same thing happens with a drop of oil on a puddle. Each rainbow colour is created by tiny differences in the thickness of the oil layer. But if you catch the bird at the wrong angle the colour disappears and the speculum just looks black like this. Incidentally the word iridescence comes from Iris, the personification of the rainbow in Greek mythology. That's why beautifully coloured things like eyes and flowers are named iris.

Sun and Shadows [Explore] ◡̈ by Olin Gilbert

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...Simultaneously Compliment Each Other Inside and Outside

Explore on 2/9/22

Catalpa sphinx moth larvae with wasp pupae by Ruth Spigelman

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A moment of simultaneous fascination and sadness upon seeing this phenomenon for the first time. Such is the natural world and all its many convoluted, connected pathways.

Catalpa sphinx moth caterpillars are parasitised by Braconid wasps...seen here attached to the caterpillar are the wasp pupae, or cocoons that have finished feeding and are metamorphosing into adults.

I noted that the caterpillars (although often stunted and slow to react), looked alive with their extra baggage of cocoons - but I learned that the damage had been done and their days were numbered.

Body length 50mm

'47 Aprilia by Lancia by Vince Montalbano (autofocus)

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For Lancia, the Aprilia, produced from 1937 - 1949, simultaneously marked the end of one era and the beginning of another. Technologically speaking, this was a supremely refined model, with a load-bearing body, a compact narrow V engine, independent suspension on all four wheels and extremely innovative aerodynamic lines.

During the 1920s, the invention of wind tunnels allowed industrial designers to seek new levels of performance for motor vehicles by improving their aerodynamics. In the United States, “streamline design” was all the rage, a trend for producing sinuous and aerodynamic lines, starting with airplanes, then trains and then cars, increasing their speed but also emphasizing their extravagant stylistic features.

This movement reached Italy in the 1930s when streamlining, a symbol of modernity, inspired the lines of the new Lancia Aprilia. But compared to the American style, Vincenzo Lancia’s trusted designer Battista Falchetto - who had shared the honors for the stunning design of the Lambda - created a car with fewer frills and more concrete lines, aimed at improving aerodynamics. The grille and windscreen were therefore slightly inclined, and the egg shape - considered at the time the most efficient profile from an aerodynamic point of view - gave character to the rear part. The compact and streamlined bonnet was made possible by the small size of the narrow V engine... an authentic concentrate of technology. It consisted of a light alloy monobloc with cast iron barrels, V valves controlled by rockers moved by an overhead camshaft and a hemispherical top on the combustion chamber. With only 1,352 cc it generated 48 HP which, thanks also to a total weight of only 850 kg, plus an excellent aerodynamic coefficient of just 0.47, thrust the Aprilia up to 125 km/h.

The Aprilia was a true Piedmontese aristocrat, refined and precise in every detail. Its famous four pillarless doors, a true Lancia icon, also have an extraordinary curved profile and invisible hinges. The famous click - the sound of the doors closing - underlined the scrupulous attention to the smallest details in design and assembly which typified Lancia’s outstanding modus operandi, providing an unforgettable grace note. The interiors, especially in the Luxury version, featured a classy geometric instrument panel on a grey background with black and white graphics: the square speedometer and clock perfectly matched with the rectangles chosen for the thermometer and the fuel gauge. The Lancia cloth upholstery (available on request in leather), the door panels, the roof covering and the rubber mats were the final touches of a creation which was the closest possible motorcar version of the classic Turin interiors of the period.

Its extremely low weight was mainly due to the load-bearing body: a Lancia patent - first seen in the 1920s on the Lambda - which, by overcoming the classic architecture which kept the chassis and bodywork separate, improved torsional rigidity and significantly reduced volumes. The independent suspension on all four wheels, with rear transversal leaf spring and front coil springs, enabled the Lancia Aprilia to offer road grip and passenger comfort that was much superior to most of its contemporary rivals.

The Lancia Aprilia contained all the most innovative and refined technical solutions that were so dear to Vincenzo Lancia. It constituted a pinnacle of motorcar production, carried out under the direct supervision of the founder of the Turin company. The name of the car came from that of an ancient Lazio town: a characteristic that linked it to its predecessors, the Artena and the Astura.

The Lancia Aprilia was presented to the public at the thirtieth edition of the Paris Motor Show, in October 1936. On February 15, 1937 its creator had a sudden and fatal heart attack, just before the car went into production. He was only 55 years old. Thus the Aprilia became universally seen as the spiritual testament of Vincenzo Lancia, becoming a huge commercial success, which continued even after the adversities of the second World War.

The first series of the Lancia Aprilia was produced from 1937 to 1939 in 10,354 units: a Sedan in standard and Luxury trims, to which were added 4,350 chassis for custom-made versions, on which the best Italian coachbuilders reveled in producing streamlined and elegant spiders and cabriolets. Pinin Farina's aerodynamic coupé was highly original, with its characteristic flattened muzzle, the central position of the 2 + 2 passenger compartment and an elegant tail.

Two years after the start of production, the second series was born, characterized by the increase in displacement to 1,486 cc. The power remained unchanged, but this improved the elasticity of the engine and the maximum speed. Despite a weight increase to 950 kg, it gained 1 km/h. In the decade from 1939-1949, 11,082 sedans were produced plus 2,252 chassis for coachbuilders.

The production of the Aprilia continued - with a further 703 exemplars - even after the Second World War, a period in which the model, despite being almost ten years old, could still be proud of its highly modern mechanics and settings. It held its place in the market right up to the last days of production, and in racing it remained the undisputed dominator of the Tourism class up to 1500 cc for years: it also triumphed in the Mille Miglia of 1947 thanks to its powerful acceleration and peerless road holding.

To this day, more than eighty years after its presentation, the Aprilia is considered a timeless pioneering car which, by gathering all the best of Lancia’s innovative philosophy, inaugurated a new era in motoring. Vincenzo Lancia was usually hypercritical about his cars, but after test driving the Aprilia prototype he spontaneously exclaimed: "What a magnificent car!".

Article credit: Heritage

Simultaneous arrival by David Curtis

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Just as I arrived in the old town of Rovinj in Croatia, this ship was about to drop anchor off shore. Madea very welcome sight on a hot July day - 2019.

PS - sincere apologies for lack of comments. I have been unable to log on to flickr due to a password techinical failure. If anyone experiences the same problem, try using Chrome as the browser. That was how I solved the access problem. D

Sweetie Face by OHKaff.

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The hardest part of taking this photo was holding the camera in one hand, and simultaneously holding Mia, (my terrible Tonkinese cat), out of the way with the other. I tried to explain to Mia how bad it might be to have your face bit off by a snapping turtle, but as usual, she really wouldn't listen, and kept trying to jump right in the middle of things.

All ended well - picture taken, turtle trucked it's self to the pond, and Mia spurted off to find something new to get mixed up in.

Simultaneous Stairs by Daniel Kessel

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www.instagram.com/lightcrafter.artistry

www.lightcrafter.pro

A road, er..stair sign Alice stumbled across in Wonderland

This is a stair optical illusion; tilt your head (or phone, or monitor ;) ) slightly to the left or right, and you'll see one figure sitting on a step, the other standing; tilt your head the opposite direction, and the sitting character will now be standing, and vice versa. The stairs will flip-flop.

The stairs were built using macro photos of a backlit cube prism, then combined in photoshop.

Early morning. Red light. Brake lights. by Mitsushiro Nakagawa

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Title.

Early morning. Red light. Brake lights.

B♭ (B Flat)

A Novel by Mitsushiro Nakagawa

日本語のあらすじ等は下の方にあります😃

“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

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. 😃

(Nikon Coolpix 8700 shot)

Manhattan, New York, U.S.A. 2017 … 3 / 16

(Today’s photo. It has not been published before, but I’ve recently re-edited it from the original.)

Images.

ONE OK ROCK - We are [ LIVE ]

youtu.be/uyaKoj7wABY?si=l5TIci49GRdoYQDD

English lyrics and Japanese translation

youtu.be/wOS8u80wvEs?si=g2ghwRsJRmqn3C22

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

My new novel

B♭ (B Flat)

Volume 19😄

The following is still in its draft stage and will be revised further.

Key parts are not disclosed.

The order of the content shown here is mixed.

(Of course, this is not the final version.)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

My new novel

B♭ (B Flat)

English translation by GPT-5, in collaboration with Mitsushiro Nakagawa

Twilight sank over the harbor town, dimming the air as the rusted girders along the pier turned a burnished red.

The park in Red Hook was nearly empty; the chains of the swings stirred in the wind, clinking faintly.

Children’s laughter drifted from afar, only deepening the stillness that hung over the place.

Amir stood outside the wire fence, gazing at the scene, and something half-forgotten stirred within him.

There had been evenings, too, in the rubble of Gaza.

Out from the ruins of broken houses, his mother would appear—

breathless, dust clinging to her clothes, coming to find him, to hold him close.

He could still recall the scent of her hair, the warmth of her arms.

“Let’s go home,” she had said.

Even if “home” was nothing more than a collapsing shell of stone and dust, her voice alone had led him back.

A mattress laid atop debris.

A room with no walls, only wind.

Yet each time his mother’s hand brushed his forehead, that place became, undeniably, home.

Amir’s gaze returned to the New York children swaying on the swings.

The innocent rhythm between mothers and sons was repeating itself again, bathed in the soft light of dusk.

It was a world untouched by weapons or blood.

“Rafi,” he murmured, barely louder than the wind,

“maybe… we don’t have to go on.”

Rafi didn’t look away.

His eyes were clouded with the sediment of Gaza—blood and dust, the memory of ruin.

His father’s body fallen in shadow.

Walls blackened with fire.

Dreams torn apart.

What filled him was not tenderness, but a cold and merciless anger.

“Don’t forget, Amir,” he said, his voice hard as stone.

“In the same place where your mother held you, our fathers were slaughtered.

Those ruins are not just ruins.”

Amir fell silent.

The river’s surface rippled red in the twilight; across the East River, the towers of Manhattan shimmered faintly, blurred at the edges.

Peace and destruction, memory and hatred—

they mingled together in the same wind.

Behind the wire fence, children’s laughter still rang out.

But to the two men, it sounded only like an echo from another world.

The setting sun sank quietly, staining the bridge’s iron joints red as the heat beneath it trembled in the air.

Rainwater pooled in the cracks of the concrete, reflecting a thin sheet of gold.

A faint steam rose from the damp air, and the salt from the harbor clung to Amir’s nose.

The boarded door of an abandoned factory hung loose,

the wind pushing in old newspapers and leaves, swirling them into tiny spirals.

From afar came the cry of cicadas, and a city bus exhaled a sigh through its brakes.

Beneath the bridge stood Amir, Rafi, and several others scattered in silence.

Some wiped sweat from their brows, eyes lowered to the ground;

others rested hands upon the girders, gazing out toward the distant light.

At intervals, the shadow of a parent waiting for a child passed by,

a white-roofed van gliding through the heat.

Amir rubbed his back, the sweat clinging to his shirt, and sat down in the shadow of the bridge pier.

Rafi stood a short distance away.

Their shadows stretched long, wavering under the harsh westering sun.

No one among their comrades moved; their stillness was a kind of breathless waiting.

“Can’t we stop here?” Amir’s voice wavered into the humid air.

In his mind, he saw again his mother’s hand reaching through a crack in the stone wall—

that small, dirt-stained hand that once touched his cheek.

The desire to return to that warmth still flickered faintly in his chest, like an ember refusing to die.

Rafi clenched his jaw, and spoke through his teeth, his words as brief and cold as a stone cast into the sea.

“Don’t forget, Amir.

If you forget that night, we’ll betray the dead.”

His voice merged with the creak of metal underfoot, irreconcilable with the laughter of children or the cry of cicadas drifting in the distance.

Amir narrowed his eyes, watching the flow of light beyond the railing.

Across the river, windows shimmered in layers—

places where life went on, where dinners were being served,

where children’s laughter and footsteps would echo softly through the gardens.

A deep shadow cut across Rafi’s face.

His fists were clenched, the veins on his hands taut and bright.

“That wish of yours,” he said quietly,

“do you know it might become someone’s gravestone?”

Amir’s gaze fell to a small white rabbit doll at his feet.

It was caked with dust, one eye missing.

Perhaps it belonged to a child who once played beneath this bridge—

or perhaps it had simply wandered here by chance.

Either way, to Amir, that single missing eye seemed like a fleeting glimpse of a world quietly disappearing.

Silence spread between them.

The wind hummed low through the iron beams.

Around them, the world went on moving.

A van door shut.

A parent touched a child’s shoulder.

A bus turned the corner.

Their comrades drew shallow breaths, eyes fixed on the ground or the far horizon.

Without looking back, Amir began walking toward the city beyond the bridge’s shadow.

Behind him came a single breath from Rafi—

a sound that carried the stillness of a corpse.

The summer dusk slowly swallowed the bridge.

The men beneath it remained as faint silhouettes,

poised between the red of sunset and the cold gleam of steel.

Rafi quietly unzipped his bag and drew out a tablet.

His fingers trembled slightly,

but he took a slow breath to steady himself,

and aimed the camera at the mark of “B♭” at the bottom of mellow-echo.net.

A dark screen flickered to life, revealing a deep-layer QR code.

Without hesitation, his finger slid along the words:

“C4-ID: Vanta+Core / Ready.”

That movement sent a faint tremor through the tension of the men beneath the bridge,

blending with the dry scent of rust and the damp summer air.

From the far side of the East River, under another bridge,

sparks began to rise—one, then another—

tiny flashes glowing red in the dark.

The light quivered across the shadows,

and the sound of metal striking metal echoed low.

Rafi’s eyes followed the fading silhouette of Amir’s back.

The others stepped silently away,

drawing a little farther from the bridge.

Moist air clung to Rafi’s skin,

and the mingled red of dusk and chill of steel filled the space around him.

In the hush beneath the bridge,

each flash and creak formed a strange rhythm in his chest.

A cicada cried once in the distance.

The city’s murmur faded to a far-off haze.

Pressed beneath that wave of tension,

the men held their breath,

confirming each other’s presence only through glances and the rhythm of their breathing.

The summer dusk slowly—yet surely—

swallowed the bridge, the city,

and the shadows that remained.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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.

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...

For japanese

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...

Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:

youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV

iTunes Playlist Link::

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD

For japanese

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...

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

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Title.

早朝。赤信号。ブレーキランプ。

僕の新しい小説

　B♭　（ビーフラット） ……. Mitsushiro Nakagawa

“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

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。😃

( Nikon coolpix 8700 shot )

マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 3 / 16

(今日の写真。それは未発表済みです。しかし最近、オリジナルから再編集しています。）

Images.

ONE OK ROCK - We are [ LIVE ]

youtu.be/uyaKoj7wABY?si=l5TIci49GRdoYQDD

英詞と和訳

youtu.be/wOS8u80wvEs?si=g2ghwRsJRmqn3C22

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

僕の新しい小説。

　B♭　（ビーフラット）

第19弾。 😄

以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。

重要な部分は公開していません。

公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。

(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

僕の新しい小説。

　B♭　（ビーフラット）

English translation by GPT-5, in collaboration with Mitsushiro Nakagawa

　夕暮れは港町の空気を沈ませながら、埠頭に錆びついた鉄骨を赤銅色に染めていた。

　レッドフックの公園は人影もまばらで、遊具の鎖が風に揺れ、かすかな音を立てていた。子どもたちの笑い声が遠くにひびき、かえって静けさを際立たせているようだった。

　アミールは金網の外からその光景を見つめ、胸の奥に忘れかけていた感覚を呼び戻していた。

かつてガザの瓦礫の町にも夕暮れはあった。

　破壊された家々のあいだから、母の姿が現れた。息を切らし、砂埃をまといながらも、彼を探して抱きしめに来る母の匂いを、アミールは今も覚えていた。

　「家に帰ろう」と母は言った。

　家とは呼べないほど崩れかけた場所であっても、その声だけが彼を導いた。瓦礫の上に置かれた布団、壁もない部屋に流れ込む風、それでも母の手が彼の額を撫でるたび、そこは確かに家だった。

　アミールの視線は、ブランコに揺れるニューヨークの子どもたちへと戻った。母と子の無邪気な時間が、夕暮れの柔らかな光のなかで繰り返されている。

　その光景は、武器や血とは無縁の世界だった。

「ラフィ……俺たちは、もうやめてもいいんじゃないか」

　低く呟いた声は、風に溶けるほど弱かった。

　ラフィは目を逸らさなかった。その瞳には、ガザの砂塵に埋もれた血の記憶がよどんでいた。

　倒れ伏した父の影、焼け焦げた壁、裂けた夢。彼の胸に満ちているのは、優しさではなく、冷たい怒りだった。

「忘れるな、アミール」

　声は硬い石のように響いた。

「母の腕に抱かれた記憶と同じ場所で、父たちは殺されたんだ。あの瓦礫はただの瓦礫じゃない」

　アミールは唇を閉ざした。

　夕暮れの川面が赤く揺らぎ、イーストリバー越しのマンハッタンの高層ビルの影がかすかに滲んでいた。

　平和と破壊、記憶と憎しみが、同じ風の中で混じり合っていた。

　金網の内では、子どもの笑い声がまだ響いていた。

　しかし、ふたりの耳にはそれが遠い世界の残響にしか思えなかった。

///////////////////////////////////

　夕陽は鉄の骨の継ぎ目を赤く染めながら、橋の下の熱気に揺れつつ静かに沈み込んだ。

　コンクリートの裂け目に溜まった水が、夕陽を映して薄い金色に光っている。湿った空気にわずかな湯気が立ち、港から流れる潮の匂いがアミールの鼻腔に絡んだ。

　廃工場の戸板は半ば外れ、風が古い新聞紙や枯れ葉を押し込み、小さな渦をつくっていた。蝉の声が遠くから響き、路線バスのブレーキ音が一度、吐息のように洩れた。

　橋の下には、アミールとラフィのほかに、数名の仲間たちが散らばって立っている。肩をすくめ、汗を拭いながら地面に視線を落とす者もいれば、鉄梁に手をかけ、遠くの光景をじっと見つめる者もいた。

　時折、子どもを待つ親の影と、白い屋根の送迎車が通り過ぎる。

　アミールは汗で張り付いたシャツの背中をさすり、橋げたの影に腰を下ろした。

　ラフィは少し離れて立った。影は長く伸び、照りつける西日に揺れていた。仲間たちは微動だにせず、息を殺すようにその場にいる。

「ここでやめられないのか」

　アミールの声は、蒸し暑い夕暮れの空気に溶けかけた。脳裏には、母が崩れた石壁の隙間から差し出した小さな手が浮かんでいた。母の手はいつも、汚れた掌で彼の頬を撫でてくれた。そこに帰りたいという欲が、胸の奥でまだ微かに温かく息をしている。

　ラフィは奥歯を噛みしめ、舌先だけで言った。簡潔で、海に投げる石のように冷たい。

「忘れるな、アミール。あの夜のことを忘れたら、俺たちは死んだ者たちを裏切る」

　その声は、波打つ鉄板の軋みと混じり、遠くの子どもたちの笑い声や蝉の声とは相容れなかった。

　アミールは目を細め、橋の欄干越しに流れてゆく光を見た。向こう岸に、きらめく窓が幾重にも並んでいる。そこには暮らしがあり、夕飯の匂いが立ち、子どもたちの笑い声や庭先で遊ぶ足音が、柔らかく響いているはずだ。

　ラフィの頬に深い影が刺さり、拳を握りしめている。手の甲の血管が鋭く浮いた。

「お前のその願いが、誰かの墓標になることを、お前は知っているのか」

　アミールの視線は、足元に落ちた小さな白いうさぎのぬいぐるみに止まった。埃にまみれ、ひとつの目が欠けていた。

　そのぬいぐるみは、橋の下で遊んだ遠い誰かのものかもしれない。あるいは単に迷い込んだだけかもしれない。どちらにせよ、アミールにはその欠けた目が、消えていく日常の一瞥に思えた。

　沈黙がふたりを隔てた。風が、橋げたの鉄梁を低く鳴らした。

　周囲の世界は動き続ける。送迎車の戸が閉まり、親が子の肩を叩く。バスが一台、角を曲がる。仲間たちは微かに息を整え、視線を地面や遠方に巡らせたままだ。

　アミールは振り返らず、橋の影から街のほうへ歩き出した。

　後ろでラフィの吐息が一つだけ聞こえた。それは骸のような静けさを残し、夏の夕闇が緩やかに橋を飲み込んでゆく。橋下の仲間たちは、かすかな影のまま残り、夕陽の赤と鉄の冷たさの間に佇んでいた。

　ラフィは静かにバッグを開き、タブレットを取り出した。指先に、微かに震えはあったが、心を鎮めるように深く息を吸い、mellow-echo.netの最下部にあるB“♭（フラット）”に、ミュートリーダーのカメラをかざした。暗い画面にディープレイヤーQRコードが浮かび上がると、指先はためらうことなく、“C4-ID:Vanta+Core/Ready.”の文字に沿って滑った。その手の動きは、橋下に残った仲間たちの緊張を微かに揺らし、乾いた鉄の匂いと湿った夏の風に溶けた。

　イーストリバーを挟んだ対岸の橋下から、火花が一点、また一点と立ち上り、暗がりに赤く瞬いた。小さな光は、橋下の影を揺らし、鉄梁にぶつかる音が低く響く。ラフィの視線はアミールの背に残る影を追い、仲間たちは無言で後退りし、橋下から少しずつ距離を取った。

　湿気を帯びた空気がラフィの肌をまとい、夕陽の赤と鉄の冷たさが入り混じる。橋下の静寂の中、火花の閃光と小さな軋みが、ラフィの胸の奥に奇妙な律動を生んだ。遠くで蝉が一声鳴き、街のざわめきは遙か彼方に霞んでゆく。

　その緊張の波に押されるように、橋下の仲間たちは息をひそめ、視線と呼吸だけで互いの存在を確かめあった。

　夏の夕闇は、まるで橋を、街を、そして残された影を静かに、しかし確かに飲み込んでいった。

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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。

18

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Soundtrack.

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...

For japanese

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...

iTunes Playlist Link::

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD

For japanese

music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack-for-jap...

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

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

between ocean and sand / waves soothe and disturb / simultaneously by m_travels

46 7

On a separate note, absolutely no pressure to look, but here is a link to a music video I made for Foals by "Once More, Autumn", a very cool collaboration with a band from Wisconsin. I am so honored they entrusted me with the visuals, it was a lot of fun. I love doing this kind of animation (with the horses!). youtu.be/McbAsiw8G6c

The Magic of Gratitude-7352 by Lorna Morris Hamblin

28 8

"Both abundance and lack exist simultaneously in our lives, as parallel realities. It is always our conscious choice which secret garden we will tend... when we choose not to focus on what is missing from our lives but are grateful for the abundance that's present - love, health, family, friends, work, the joys of nature and personal pursuits that bring us pleasure - the wasteland of illusion falls away and we experience Heaven on Earth."

~Sarah Ban Breathnach

Zuiko 35/f2

A Pair Of Peaks by Stephen Dance

48 2

Simultaneous arrivals at York as on the left 45 142 brings in 1O09, the 14:10 Newcastle - Poole as 45 136 comes off the Scarborough line with 1M70, the 14:35 Scarborough - Holyhead

45 136 would give way for 47 463 which was waiting behind me on the right hand centre road

Manhattan - Fifth and Simultaneous by Richard S Warner

55 100

Towering buildings, both Romantically Old and Brazenly New, come crashing into this intersection in front of the Park Plaza like a train wreck of human bodies that ensues when that one idiot stops at the top of the escalator as soon as they 'dismount' ... looking around for orientation.

Here the central 'core' of Manhattan abruptly stops for the gigantic and Elysian imperative of Central Park - the massive necessity that enables the Big Apple to breathe in every possible capacity.

********************************************************

Music Link: Jon Hassell - "Harambe", from his album, "City: Works of Fiction". On this incredible album Hassell imagined fictional scenarios in various cities around the world and drew upon his unique blend of Jazz, Electronica, Third World music and a deep involvement in Digital Culture to create powerful pieces that reflect the beauty, power, danger, chaos and wonder of big cities. It seemed fitting, then, to apply his work to my New York images.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-n8LsXZRbQ

View Large on Black.

Visitor in my garden in early winter by Odd Roar Aalborg

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As many as five such ones have been observed simultaneously

almost in the same place some years ago - only a few meters from my house. Here out to the sea, there are female deer who stay, while the males prefer to move further inside the terrain.

life is fleeting and infinite simultaneously. by Sjoerd Los

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DSC05025-26

Lancia Aprilia for 1947 by Vince Montalbano (autofocus)

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