#taylorswift

We were both young

When I first saw you

I close my eyes

And the flashback starts

I’m standing there

On a balcony in summer air

 

-taylorswift

 

taylor swift is the most amazing artist, and i can't wait to see her live in june.

I've been snaking to wish a happy birthday to this incredible artist today!

No Taylor Swift, just a Chimney Swift touching the water at turtle pond, Central park.

đây là nỗ lực icon project đầu tiên của mình XD Thực sự là k giỏi icon tí nào :-<

Mí qv nxet cho mình nhé, mình cảm tạ nhìu lắm. Faiting!!!

So cut the headlights, summer's a knife

I'm always waiting for you just to cut to the bone

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

And if I bleed, you'll be the last to know

made by: ME!

hope ya'll like it!

 

give credit if you use.

 

CLICK ALL SIZES

  

Taylor Swift Speak Now Concert at Heinz Field

No title.

No description.

No edit.

Nothing special.

It's not my favorite to be honest.

 

But I just want to do something for Taylor <3

 

Follow me @likeswift on twitter :)

she is soooo pretty here

Just a basic color edit :D

:D

i love thiss <3

retouch by me :D

i made this yesterday! (:

i love it. :D

maais que diva <3

Say you'll remember me

Standing in a nice dress

Staring at the sunset, babe

Red lips and rosy cheeks

Say you'll see me again

Even if it's just in your wildest dreams...

I did not take this picture, but i did edit and add the text to it.

✨Taylor Swift Midnights edits✨

6/21: Midnight Rain ️

 

Sorry it took me a year to get back to this Project hehe, but Lets get this going! Midnight rain its a song about leaving behind the comfort of a heathy relationship to avoid settling. It’s about putting your needs before anyone else’s. As. You. Should. 🌌 ️

 

Listen: www.youtube.com/watch?v=Odh9ddPUkEY

 

Location: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Runaway/42/26/29

Feel free to take it...

Check out all sizes...

i.d.n.t.c.f.t.

Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly

Loving him is like trying to change your mind

Once you're already flying through the free fall

Like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all

Losing him was blue like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like tryna know somebody you never met

But loving him was red

  

After listening to Red (Taylor's Version) (the album), the title track is where my attention kept returning.

I think we've all had that love that made us feel wild and invincible - and when it's over, you feel...lost.

But then you find someone new, and they make you feel alive again - not the wildness you expected, but it's like coming home to a cozy fire and a nice warm drink.

So, to S - thank you for being my wild red and showing me a new world

And to A, my always. You are my whiskey on the cold nights

(there will probably be more of these pics as I go through Swift's rerecordings - you've been warned ♥)

Feel free to take it...

Check out all sizes...

i.d.n.t.c.f.t.

Feel free to take it...

Check out all sizes...

i.d.n.t.c.f.t.

Feel free to take it...

Check out all sizes...

i.d.n.t.c.f.t.

Lindsey is a big Taylor Swift fan. She just bought the ‘Folklore’ CD and the sweater, like Taylor wore, in one of the videos. The sweater came from Taylor Swift’s website, so it’s an authorized item.

Truth is, I’m happy with it as is

Images from Taylor Sifts Eras Tour 2024

Taylor Swift

Brigette is wearing her cardigan. The song is “Cardigan” written and sung by Taylor Swift. m.youtube.com/watch?v=jxzSMm8qq28

Taylor Swift is famous for writing her own songs, mostly from her own life experiences.

Title.

33 32 TRACKS 32 31

(Nikon Coolpix 8700 shot)

Manhattan. New York. USA. 2007. … 5 / 7

Images.

Ellegarden – Sliding Door

youtu.be/rM1D8SikWsk?si=FGa2sAIckb49jvoi

 

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

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

 

My New Novel

B♭ (B Flat)

I'm sharing parts of it—maybe this is Part 6?

If you have a moment, please take a look. 😄

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

 

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

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

 

Scene: Domino Park, Sunday

Ana, Mika, Amir, and the children

The morning sun still cast its light at an angle across the riverside grass.

Ana and Mika were holding a workshop on a cloth spread out in a quiet corner of Domino Park. Together with the children, they gathered “fragments of memory”—sketchbooks and colored pencils, old magazines, dry leaves, acrylic paints. It was as if the lawn itself had gently laid out pieces of time gone by.

“Nadia, where did you find that photo?”

“In a box of my grandma’s things. Everything inside was all brown.”

“But it’s beautiful. Look—here…”

Ana crouched down and pointed to the edge of the sepia-toned photograph with Nadia. Reina paused what she was doing and drew closer.

Reina’s gentle eyes gazed intently at Nadia’s photograph.

“What kind of sound do you think this makes?”

Her murmur wasn’t tracing the surface of the paper, but rather searching deep into a world beyond it—a silent place only she could sense.

Nadia tilted her head slightly.

“...Sound?”

“Yeah. This brown part goes crackle-crackle. And this shadow... maybe the sound of wind stopping far away.”

Reina traced the darkest part of the photo with her finger and closed her eyes.

“When my dad disappeared, Mom said she heard the fridge stop humming. She said... sometimes the sound of something stopping is louder than when it’s there.”

She stood quietly and walked over to the paints. Mixing a little blue and a little black, she created a muted, dusty navy. She touched her brush lightly to the sketchbook, then softened the color with her fingertip.

“This is the sound after.”

What she drew looked like the trail of a shooting star. It was the lingering echo of a sound that had been silenced—something that had risen from deep within her and taken form.

Mika stepped in gently and asked, “What kind of sound is that?”

Reina didn’t smile, but her face softened.

“Maybe… the sound of Grandma trying not to cry.”

“Do you think your grandma was holding her tears back?”

Ana asked this as she smiled at Reina.

What Reina had gathered was the sound of a memory too fragile to become words.

Ana and Mika worked as Community Art Facilitators (CAF), engaging with children’s centers and senior homes. They helped orphans who had lost their parents and elderly people who had lost their youth to give shape to their memories—passing them on in a visible form.

Their goal was not to create “finished artworks,” but to make visible the passage of someone who once lived here.

—To rescue light that slipped through open palms,

to weave what remained in the net of memory,

to thread together words that were never spoken—

Arjun, Ana’s partner with whom she lived, never once opposed her work. In fact, he encouraged it. One time, Ana had asked him why he never said anything about her unstable career.

“Money? Anyone can earn that. But to create something… that’s impossible for most. Only you can do that.”

That was the moment Ana decided to share her life with him.

From beyond the dew-kissed grass at the far end of the park, a man slowly approached. His silhouette, lit from behind, looked hesitant—yet each step was sure.

It was Amir.

The children were scattered across the grass, each one quietly trying to bring “someone” from their inner world to the surface of the page. A still heat hung in the sketchbooks, along with time yet unspoken.

Amir picked up their glances one by one as he walked, finally stopping beside a young girl.

Nadia.

She kept moving her colored pencils, pretending not to notice him. She was silently pasting fragments of an old photograph onto black paper—shadows of a family whose faces were missing. Beside them, she’d painted a tiny red house.

Amir looked at it for a while, then crouched down.

“...Where is that house?”

His voice was soft. Nadia traced the red roof with her finger.

“It’s… where I used to live. But no one’s there now.”

Her voice was so quiet, it almost blended with the sound of the wind.

After a pause, Amir pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

“I drew one too—a house no one lives in anymore. Want to see it?”

He held out a brown-ink sketch. The door was slightly ajar, revealing nothing inside. Only the window had curtains.

Nadia took it and studied it silently. At last, she spoke.

“This window… looks like it’s open.”

Amir gave a surprised little smile.

“If that’s how it looks to you, then maybe that’s what it is.”

Ana was watching from a short distance away.

Amir’s back said nothing, but Nadia’s expression had softened, just a little.

“Good morning. Don’t you think this is a bit much for coincidence?”

Ana said with a smile, yesterday’s events tucked quietly behind her words. Amir replied with a rueful grin.

“Morning. Yeah, it’s not a coincidence. I’ve been watching you. My place is just around here.”

Ana laughed at his words and glanced over at Nadia.

“She rarely talks. Not even to Mika or me.”

With the East River at his back, Amir leaned against the railing. The breeze running along the river ruffled his hair.

“Sometimes you love something so much, you keep quiet.”

He tossed the words gently toward Ana, who leaned on the railing beside him.

“I’ll write that in my notebook,” she said.

Ana looked across the East River. Manhattan’s skyline, still half-asleep, floated faintly in the soft morning light. The buildings across the river stood silent, casting their shadows on the water as if last night’s chaos had been quietly swept away.

Some high-rises already shimmered with reflections. A thin wisp of steam rose from a chimney.

The steel arch of the Williamsburg Bridge lay between Brooklyn and Manhattan, catching the light with a dull glint.

The river breeze brushed their skin, carrying with it the faint metallic scent of salt and iron.

In the distance, a ship’s horn sounded. The morning sun flickered in patches across the water.

Behind the park rose the tower of One Domino Square—a symbol of redevelopment—slicing into the clouds.

On this Sunday morning, just awakened, the voices of children mixed quietly with the murmuring river.

This wasn’t just a backdrop. It was alive. A breathing piece of the map.

Then Ana noticed something swaying on the far side of the current.

At first, she thought it was just a plastic bag. But it floated, sank, and floated again, slowly drawing nearer.

It was cloth.

White, coarse, with a strangely sacred texture. Along the edge, faint embroidery—Arabic, perhaps. Beneath the cloth was the shape of a human body. The head sank gently, arms and legs folded as if in sleep.

The river breeze shifted.

Amid the salt, a trace of metal and blood drifted faintly through the air.

The body drifted slowly, then snagged on the reeds near the shore of Domino Park and stopped.

“...What is that?”

Ana asked, but Amir gave no reply. He just stared at the water.

The edge of the cloth lifted in the breeze, revealing the man’s cheek—pale, stiff, and yet, somehow, peaceful.

So still, it was as if he were still dreaming.

Professor Zakaria Haddad—

Ana would not learn his name until some time later.

  

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

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

 

My new novel:

B♭ (B-flat)

There’s still more to come. 😃

(This is not the final draft.)

Set in New York City.

 

5

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54686544606/in/dateposted...

4

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54653035442/in/dateposted...

3

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...

2

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...

1

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...

 

Soundtrack.

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

  

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

  

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.

33 32 TRACKS 32 31

 

( Nikon coolpix8700 shot )

  

マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2007. … 5 / 7

  

Images.

Ellegarden - Sliding Door

youtu.be/rM1D8SikWsk?si=FGa2sAIckb49jvoi

 

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

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

 

僕の新しい小説。

　B♭　（ビーフラット）

  

部分的に公開しています。第６弾？

お時間があればどうぞ😄

(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)

 

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

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

  

場面　ドミノパーク　日曜日　アナ、カナ　アミール　子供たち

 

　朝の陽射しが、川べりの芝をまだ斜めに照らしていた。

　アナとミカは、ドミノパークの一角に敷いた布の上で、子どもたちと「記憶の紙片」を集めるワークショップを開いていた。スケッチブックと色鉛筆、古い雑誌、乾いた葉っぱ、アクリル絵の具。公園の芝生には、過ぎ去った時間がそっと並べられているようだった。

「ナディア、その写真、どこで見つけたの？」

「おばあちゃんの遺品の箱。ぜんぶ茶色になってた」

「でも、すごくきれい。ほら、ここ……」

　アナがしゃがみ込み、ナディアと一緒に焦茶の写真の端を指差すと、レイナが手を止めて近づいた。

　レイナの愛くるしい瞳が、ナディアの写真をじっと見つめた。

「これ、なんの音がすると思う？」

　そう呟いた彼女の眼差しは、紙の上を辿るのではなく、紙の向こうにある音のしない世界の奥を探っているようだった。

　問われたナディアは少しだけ首をかしげた。

「……音？」

「うん。茶色いとこが、パリパリって。あと、この影、ちょっと遠くで風が止まった音がする」

　レイナは指で影の濃い部分をなぞり、目を閉じた。

「お父さんがいなくなった時、冷蔵庫が止まった音がしたんだって、お母さんが言ってた。……　音って、止まる時の方が強くなるんだよ」

　言いながら、レイナはそっと立ち上がり、絵の具のところへ歩いていった。

　彼女は、青と黒を少しずつ混ぜ、くすんだ紺色を作った。スケッチブックに、ふわりとひと筆落とし、指先でその色を軽く引き延ばした。

「これ、音のあと」

　そう言って描いたのは、尾を引いた流れ星のような線だった。レイナの内から湧いたのは、確かに音を止められた余韻で、そこに描かれていた。

　ミカがそっと寄ってきて、「それ、なにの音？」と尋ねると、レイナは笑わず、でもうれしそうにいった。

「たぶん、おばあちゃんが泣かないようにしてた音」

「おばあちゃんは、泣くのを我慢していたのかな」

　アナはそう返しながら、レイナに微笑んだ。

　レイナが拾い上げたのは、“言葉にならなかった記憶の音”だった。

　アナとミカはコミュニティアート・ファシリテーター（CAF）として、児童館や高齢者施設に関与している。両親をなんらかの形で亡くした孤児や高齢者の幼少の頃の記憶を形で留め、次へ伝達してゆく。

　目的は、『完成された芸術作品』ではなく、『ここに生きた誰かの時間』を見えるようにすることだ。

　ーー　手のひらからこぼれ落ちた光を救い、記憶の網目に残ったものを紡ぎ、語られなかった言葉を編む　ーー

　アナの活動について、同棲しているアルジュンは、決して反対せず、むしろ、賛成してくれていた。アナは、不安定な職業に何も言わないことを不思議に思って彼に尋ねたことがある。

「お金は、僕にも誰でも稼げる。でも、作品を産むのは無理だ。君にしかできないよ」

　アナが彼との同棲生活を共にしようと決めた瞬間だった。

　パークの奥、まだ朝露を含んだ芝の向こうから、一人の男がゆっくりと歩いてきた。

　光を背にして姿を現したその輪郭は、どこかためらいがちで、それでも確かな歩幅を保っていた。

　アミールだった。

　芝生には、子どもたちが散り散りに座っていた。誰もが自分のなかの“誰か”を、紙の上にそっと浮かび上がらせようとしていた。静かな熱と、まだ語られていない時間が、スケッチブックの上にじっと息を潜めていた。

　アミールは、視線を一つずつ拾いながら歩みを進め、やがて、ひとりの少女のそばで立ち止まった。

　ナディアだった。

　ナディアは気づかないふりをしたまま、色鉛筆を動かし続けていた。

　彼女は言葉を使わずに、古い写真の断片を黒い紙に貼りつけていた。顔が消えた家族の影のようなもの。その横に、赤い絵の具で小さく家を描いていた。

　アミールはしばらくそれを見つめ、しゃがみこんだ。

「……それは、どこにある家？」

　静かに問いかけると、ナディアは指先で赤い屋根をなぞった。

「……前に住んでたところ。でも、今は、誰もいない」

　彼女はそう言ったが、声はごく小さく、風の音と区別がつかないほどだった。

　アミールは、しばし言葉を選ぶように黙ってから、ポケットから折りたたまれた紙を一枚取り出した。

「僕も、描いたことがある。誰もいなくなった家。見せようか？」

　彼が差し出したのは、茶色のペンで描かれた一枚のスケッチだった。ドアが半開きで、内部は見えない。ただ、窓にだけカーテンがかかっていた。

　ナディアはそれを受け取り、じっと見つめた。そして、ようやく口を開いた。

「この窓……開いてるように見える」

　アミールは、驚いたように微笑んだ。

「そう見えたなら、きっとそうなんだよ」

　そのとき、アナは少し離れた場所からその光景を見ていた。

　アミールの背中は何も語らなかったが、ナディアの表情が少しだけやわらいでいた。

「おはよう。偶然にしては重なりすぎない？」

　アナは昨日の出来事を潜ませ、笑顔でアミールへ話しかけた。アミールは口元を緩めて、苦笑いで返した。

「おはよう。そう、偶然じゃない。僕はずっと君を見ていた。僕の家はこの近所だけどね」

　アナは、彼の言葉に笑いながら、ナディアとのやりとりを確認した。

「ナディアは、滅多に口を開かないわ。ミカやわたしにも」

　アミールは、イーストリバーを背にして、手すりに腰を預けた。川面につたってやってきた風が彼の前髪を揺らした。

「大好きすぎて、口を閉ざすこともあるよ」

　手すりに肘をつき、川を眺めるアナに、彼はそっと言葉を投げた。アナは言葉を拾って、

「わたしのノートに書き留めておくわ」

　アナはイーストリバーの向こうに目を落とした。まだ眠気の残るマンハッタンの街並みが淡く浮かんでいる。柔らかい朝の光に照らされて、対岸の建物たちは無言のまま、川面に影を落としている。昨夜の騒ぎがまるで一掃されたかのような静けさだ。

　高層ビルの一部はすでに窓をきらめかせ、煙突からは細い湯気のような白煙が立ちのぼっていた。

　ウィリアムズバーグ・ブリッジの鋼のアーチが、陽を受けて鈍く光りながら、ブルックリンとマンハッタンのあいだに静かに横たわっている。川風はひんやりと肌を撫で、ほんの少し金属と潮の混じった匂いを運んできた。遠く船の汽笛が鳴り、川面には朝陽がまだらに揺れている。

　公園の背後では、再開発の象徴とも言える One Domino Square のタワーが、雲を切り裂くようにそびえていた。

　日曜日の朝、目を覚ましたばかりの街に、子どもたちの声と川のさざめきが静かに混じり合う。この風景は、ただの背景ではなかった。生きた地図の一部として、確かにここに息づいているのだ。

　アナは、川の流れの向こうに、何かがゆらゆらと揺れているのに気づいた。

　最初はただの白いビニール袋かと思った。だが、それは波とともに浮いたり沈んだりを繰り返し、やがて少しずつこちらへ近づいてきた。

　布だった。

　白く、どこか神聖な手触りを思わせる織りの粗い布だ。縁にうっすらと、アラビア文字のような模様が刺繍されている。布の下には、人のかたちがあった。頭部と思われる部分はゆるやかに沈み、手足は、まるで眠る者のように折りたたまれていた。

　川の風がふっと方向を変えた。

　潮の匂いにまじって、鉄と血の気配が微かに混ざった。

　ゆるやかに流れてきたその遺体は、ちょうどドミノパークの岸辺に近づいたところで、葦の茂みに軽く引っかかり、動きを止めた。

「……あれ、何？」

　アナの問いにアミールは返事をせず、ただ川面を凝視した。

　遺体の布の端がひるがえり、男の片頬がのぞいた。

　青白く、硬直し、しかしどこか穏やかな表情すら残している。あまりに静かで、まるでまだ夢のなかにいるようだった。

　教授、ザカリア・ハッダード──

　それが彼の名前だったのだと、アナが知るのは、まだ少し先のことだった。

  

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

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

  

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。

 

5

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54686544606/in/dateposted...

4

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54653035442/in/dateposted...

3

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...

2

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...

1

www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...

 

Soundtrack.

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

  

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

  

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

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

 

Confesso que pra 2016 preciso fazer um curso sobre fotografia e edição de fotos rs. Esse ano foi um ano de uma safra com bonecas maravilhosas, algumas quase impossíveis de conseguir tal como a Moschino Barbie Doll que chega a preços exorbitantes aqui no Brasil, pra 2016, como colecionador de Barbie esperava no minimo uma Taylor Swift Barbie Doll, será que é muito Mattel ?

 

(:

Taylor Swift fans flock to Downtown East in Minneapolis for the first of two shows on her "The Eras Tour".