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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!
My Coffee Story is run by a Turkish owner. It is situated in St James Street, Brighton. This coffee shop serves excellent coffee at a very reasonable price, friendly staff and cosy atmosphere. Due to pandemic, they only serve sandwiches, pastries, cakes as well as Turkish borek. The food is delicious.
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…
I had a bad day today, i was angry, i felt like i could burn things down...then i thought, why not turn this into a photograph?!
I got to set my rage free while burning books and in the end i got a usable shot! It was a win-win! :)
I want to say a big Thank you to everybody who faves and comments! Have a nice day !
New post! Pose Free Juxtapose. <3<3
Blog: mirandaabeyantesl.blogspot.com.es/2014/05/live-your-story...
Picture might be available without watermark for free, just DM.
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John Day Fossil Beds National Monument, Sheep Rock Unit - Foree.
Story In Stone Trail.
Kimberly, Oregon
Auswahlfoto
Für "Macro Mondays" Thema "Halloween" am 02.11.2020.
Have a "Happy Macro Monday"
and stay safe.
Available for The Seasons Story's winter round, the Winterview Vignette is a 17LI mesh window seat photo set with 2 pillows included. 7 sitting poses. Wall is tintable and/or texturable.
Just when you seek a moment's peace,
Let magazines your thoughts release,
For in their pages, stories rhyme,
In paperbound whispers, through all time.