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Oregon Dunes and
Siuslaw National Forest
Oregon, USA
"There are several Oregon landscapes that look alien, so different from our typical experience, or else so similar to those depicted on other planets in the movies.
As it happens, science fiction writer Frank Herbert first imagined the alien worlds of his classic novel, "Dune", while on a tour of the Oregon Dunes, marveling at how the ever-shifting sands could "swallow whole cities, lakes, rivers, highways."
- Oregonian, Jamie Hale
DSC05546
Hlavní nádraží, Praha.
Main Rail Station, Prague, Czech Republic.
View This Shot in Large on Black
© All rights reserved. Use without permission is illegal.
I've been taking a wee bit of down time away from laptop as I do need that wee break when spending so many hours everyday, 7 days a week (I get internet burn out...lol). Anyway I took some pictures in my garden and got some macro pictures of these two Bees? (or are they flies?). I assume they are making out but not sure, I could have got as close as I wanted as they weren't moving, too engrossed in what they were doing. I actually didn't take too many pictures as I thought they were dead when they didn't move no matter how close I got but they did fly away when I checked back a short time later. Glad they did as I don't think I could have looked at pictures of them if they were dead.
The picture is a bit too dark....Look at the newest phots of this hare at lalootka's attic to see what transformation she had through.
Two Really Pretty Vest, one is a dollarbie, one is cheap [just 60 L for a floreal and summerish piece of wearing <3]
Long Vest: Tee*fy new Striped long Vest
1 L [ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Floyd/133/52/23]
Short Floral Vest: Gato color sequin Vest 60 L [ maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Thibedeau/173/31/25 ]
I'm also wearing:
Top: Ohmai basic one piece Blank FREE
Shorts: Willow High Waist Shorts [Acid and Dark shades <3]
So happy together. Two lambs overlooking the landscape of the Isle of Terschelling (NL) View Awards Count
Railroad Snow Sheds
Steven's Pass, Washington
Located just west of the old Cascade Tunnel, near the site of Wellington. I shot these two images in the early '90s with a Pentax 6x7. The sheds are now part of the Iron Goat Trail and now have wooden walkways.
Two girls sit on a bench by a small lake, waiting for their boyfriends. The girls are 12. The boyfriends are the first they’ve really had.
Like the girls, the boys are friends. They’ve become a foursome. And today they’re all skipping school together.
It’s November. The wind off the lake is chilly, the grass around it brown and matted, clumped with goose poop and dotted here and there with bits of garbage. Fast food wrappers, empty cigarette packs, old Kleenexes, beer cans – glisten dully around the bench in the weak winter light.
One of the girls lights a cigarette, inhales extravagantly… waves a hand in front of her face to dissipate the smoke from her match. Tosses the match on the ground by the bench. Stares at the lake.
She’s the older-looking one. The more mature one. She has breasts and hips and long shiny hair.
The other girl is still awkward, skinny, flat chested, hipless. Worried that her curvy friend – who she has known since kindergarten – will one day abandon her.
They’ve been friends forever, it seems. And they were always equals. But now, time is taking them in different directions. The skinny girl doesn't like it. Not one bit. But what can she do? She is trapped... helpless. She cannot stop puberty.
“Give me a cigarette,” the skinny girl says.
The curvy girl makes a face like “What? Are you serious?” Turns to the skinny girl, blinks a few times rapidly and blows out a long blue plume into the damp air.
“But you don’t smoke,” says the curvy girl.
“Maybe I want to start,” says the skinny girl, wondering… even as she says this… what the hell she’s thinking. She’s repulsed by cigarettes. Has tried them a few times and ended up sick. Still.
She feels that smoking is a visible sign of aging; of sophistication. It’s one of the few things that sets her apart from the curvy girl – and is within her control. She cannot make her breasts grow or her hair shine or her pimples disappear (although she does her best to cover them). But, if she smokes, she figures, she will look more mature.
So she takes a cigarette. Holds it in her mouth while the curvy girl strikes a match and lights it. Even before she inhales, the skinny girl has a mouthful of awful.
The cigarette has a rank, dirty chemical taste. Like insecticide. The girl tries not to breathe through her nose as she sucks in the smallest possible amount of hot, acrid smoke.
The girls make small talk. They’ve known each other so long they’re able to communicate in something like a code. It consists of single syllables, of grunts, of gestures… any one of which can send them into fits of doubled-over, can't-breathe laughter.
There on the bench… just the two of them… it’s almost as though they’re still little girls. And the skinny one almost wishes they were… that they weren’t growing up; that their bodies weren’t changing; that they didn’t have boyfriends now.
In truth, she doesn’t like her boyfriend. Never would have chosen him; is really only seeing him because her friend and his friend are boyfriend-girlfriend.
In truth, some part of her is not-so-secretly in love with her curvy, mature-looking friend.
She’s been reading up on adolescence in the library. She has read that girl-girl crushes are common at this age; that they don’t mean anything; that, given time, her interest in boys will develop.
She wishes it would hurry up. She’s tired of pretending to like the boyfriend’s sloppy wet attempts at passion. She goes along with it only because, this way, she gets more time with her friend. And when she is alone at night, remembering their double dates, it’s not the boyfriend she thinks about.
“Where the hell are those guys?” the curvy girl asks, looking at the time on her cell phone. The boyfriends are late. The four of them were meant to meet here half an hour ago.
It’s cold by the lake. The girls huddle in their coats, hands in pockets, breath making clouds.
By the time the man approaches them, they have almost given up on the boyfriends arriving at all.
(to be continued)
Our two boys eating peacefully side by side. Bastian's tail looks like a pipe cleaner compared to Rags' more bushy one...
Bastian (mixed breed) & Dushara Tatters and Rags, (Somali), 10.10.2015.
Olympus OMD EM5 Digital Camera