View allAll Photos Tagged UNCONTROLLABLE
Dark the path camouflaged by bright colors
Omen of occult secrets
The push towards the end of the path
It seems inevitable
It is useless to resist
I will go down there with my heart racing
From dull uncontrollable beats
The fear is as strong as the curiosity to discover
What could be down there
Maybe just a dream or a hallucination
But stopping now without knowing
It is not possible…
(my)
The pride of CPKC's fleet - EMD FP9As 1401 and 4107, along with an attractive five-car business train - hold the main at Banff West as the tail-end remote on train no. 112 blackens the sky in diesel exhaust as it notches out of town. While the skies were (mostly) clear at the time of this photo, unbeknownst to the photographer, some 180 miles to the north, uncontrollable wildfires ravaged Jasper National Park. Within a couple of hours, the skies of Banff had turned ominously smoky, along with the gut-wrenching news that the fire had reached the Jasper townsite making for a very somber drive back to Calgary later that evening. My heart truly goes out to all affected by this unthinkable tragedy.
A close-up of the foliage of one of only two cut-leaf beech trees in our local park.
Please forgive my recent absence from Flickr, I am sure many of you will know the reason why - I was knocked down by an over-enthusiastic uncontrollable young dog weighing only a little less than I do, and broke my hip. Now home from hospital, but it's a long and painful recovery from my hip-replacement surgery. This photograph was taken 2 days before it happened and I haven't been out since !
Many heartfelt thanks for your messages of support, my Flickr friends. I am so blessed to have you !
A special thank you to my Co-Admin in our groups, Tony, "Guy@Fawkes" for running our groups alone, while I've been gone and still while not fully recovered.
More weather, more crashing waves. The uncontrollable violence that nature can inflict is sometimes impressive. In this case, the energy transferred by the water pulverizing the shoreline rocks, makes one step back in awe.
This is also why I chose a longer view. But, when attempting to capture this, the balance was off. So, that lone bird helps the structure of the image, and completes the weighting of the shot. A complete and total stroke of luck.
Piana, Falanthos, Arcadia, Peloponnesus peninsula, Greece.
Following a mountain path from the village Piana, in 15 minutes, you reach the cave of the god Pan. This is the cave of the scary god Pan, whose sacred mountain is the Menalon Mountain. The name of the god inspired the Greek word “panikos”, which means “panic”, the sudden, uncontrollable fear that leads people into irrational behavior. As a matter of fact, Pan is a peaceful god. He is the god of the wild, shepherds and flocks, nature of mountain wilds and rustic music. He has the hindquarters, legs, and horns of a goat, in the same manner as a faun or satyr and enjoys the companion of the beautiful nymphs! He is a cheerful, carefree, flirtatious god whose main occupation is music and well-being. But Pan may cause PANIC, terror and fear to people, in case his restlessness and sleep is disturbed. So be careful when you are near this place of the photo. Especially in the noontime, Pan is taking his nap after playing his wonderful music. If you wake him up he will spread panic!
The view from the Pan’s cave is stunning!
© 2022 Peter Mardie, all rights reserved.
Chai & The Blues Maniacs featuring Nurse The Voice! Historical image, shot on 28 June 2014, at the legendary Maggie Choo's Bar, Bangkok.
Patron testimonial:
"Her voice blew my toupee off! The ice cubes shook in my gin glass! I felt as happy as Max my Labradoodle chasing sea gulls on the beach during a typhoon, my ears flapping uncontrollably in the decibel wind! What a great night out!"
Have you experienced The Voice? One of the best singers in Bangkok. Blues, Jazz, Soul, Funk.
And no, I am not getting any kickbacks. My genuine opinion.
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My web page:
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Come say hello! (my other hideouts)
IG: www.instagram.com/petermardie/
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Tumblr: petermardie.tumblr.com
Mia Wallace (incarnated by the divine Clara Janssen) and Vincent Vega (superbly played by the wonderful Aristide Atlass) are again fully committed at winning the night's dancing contest at famous retro-themed restaurant Jack Rabbit Slim's. Twisting at the sound of Chuck Berry's "You Never Can Tell", Mia's sexy looks and impeccable moves are absolutely astounding, but Vincent quickly loses the plot and fumbles his way before crashing from the stage.
Our team captured a short video extract from the performance before Vincent collapsed. In another plot twist (pun intended), Mia spent the night at Studios Claris in the arms of our uncontrollably attractive Turkish cameraman and managed not to sniff any unsafe pixel dust!
Mia Wallace (désormais incarnée par la divine Clara Janssen) et Vincent Vega (rôle repris parfaitement par le merveilleux Aristide Atlass) sont à nouveau bien décidés à remporter le concours de danse du fameux resto retro Jack Rabbit Slim's. Twistant sur un air de Chuck Berry, Mia offre une chorégraphie époustouflante, en plus d'une allure des plus enjôleuses. Vincent par contre s'emmêle les pinceaux avant de se casser la figure.
Notre équipe à réussi à capturer un bref extrait vidéo de la performance (lien ci-dessus), avant que Vincent ne s'écrase au bas du podium. Dans un élan d'improvisation créative, Mia a ensuite passé la nuit aux Studios Claris dans les bras de notre irrésistible cameraman turc, et réussit cette fois à éviter de sniffer une poudre pixellisée des plus douteuses!
A Studios Claris production. Check album here: flic.kr/s/aHsmVxZ9mw
Have you ever had one of those days when someone was so rude and mean to you that you wanted to explode? You managed to control yourself, thanks to your upbringing, where you treat the people who are treating you badly with respect and calmness? Your mood starts with anger (happily not uncontrollable), then your brain goes into gear and you start cooling down, after which you try and rationalize the situation, which takes you into the calming down phase and finally to being able to accept what has happened and as you cool down you can even find a way at laughing at the whole ordeal? Well I had that situation today and it is quite fun to visualize it creatively, I hope that you enjoy my work and get a laugh out of it. Because laughter makes everything better!!!!
HMAM😊😊😍
With heartfelt and genuine thanks for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day, be well, keep your eyes open, appreciate the beauty surrounding you, enjoy creating and stay safe! ❤️❤️❤️
The hills near Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, are engulfed by the rapid growth of kudzu, an invasive plant often referred to as the "vine that ate the south" due to its ability to cover virtually anything in its path. This vigorous vine, originally from Japan, was once promoted as an ornamental plant and a means to stabilize soil, but it has since spread uncontrollably, posing a threat to local ecosystems by preventing native plants and trees from thriving.
Le fusain peut facilement être considéré comme un médium chaotique : il bave, il est difficile à effacer, il est suffisamment mou pour se briser sous une pression excessive et, de ce fait, il peut sembler incontrôlable. Pour Josh Hernandez , ces caractéristiques font partie de son attrait. Dans ses œuvres, il maîtrise avec aisance les aspects volatils et expressifs du fusain , créant des scènes pleines de mouvement et de personnalité.
°°°°°°°°°
Charcoal can easily be considered a chaotic medium: it smudges, it’s difficult to erase, it’s soft enough to break under too much pressure, and, because of this, it can feel uncontrollable. For Josh Hernandez, these features are part of the draw. Throughout his artwork, he seamlessly manages both the volatile and expressive aspects of charcoal, creating scenes that teem with movement and personality.
It’s almost as if the act of photography bears some relationship to how we consciously manage the uncontrollable set of possibilities that exist in life :-)
Philip-Lorca diCorcia
HBW!! Truth Matters!
fragrant wintersweet, 'Luteus', j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, raleigh, north carolina
A few months or ever a year ago, I met this wonderful lady named Trelo. As time passed, I started to get to know her better & better. I decided to give her a special nickname, just as I normally did… Trelobin. Well, the funny fact as I started to know her & her actions and style, I noticed that she is someone that I take my hat off to… Her style is admirable, and we all know that it is really difficult to keep your style alive because a lot of people here copy or naturally get similar to anyone else. Trelobin, trelonoids, trelolyds, treloooolll, you showed me something very special, that no one would EVER show me. Life is difficult, we all have limitations, so forget about them and live today! Enjoy your life as it is and don’t ask yourself, “why me?”. Actually you have to do the opposite, “why not me?”. Life is short, forgive quickly, love truly, smile and laugh uncontrollably, break the rules, and never give up of anything that made you happy. We all have obstacles in our lives, normally life will try to beat you down, we all live in a mean place but the fact is, it is not how hard it hits you, it is how hard you keep going without blaming others. Do your stuff and do not worry about what people think. Thanks once more Trelobin for showing me and emphasising this incredible statement. Each time that I am with you, I learn new things. And I hope to learn a thousand more… ❤
If someone believed me how awesome you are,
THEY WOULD BE
AS IN LOVE WITH YOU AS I AM
To be continued…
Thank you all so much for all your Faves and wonderful inspiring Comments and to Elaine for making me laugh!! Im struggling to catch up with you all and that is a compliment to every one of you out there. Im heading off hiking for the next week so I wont be here much. I will catch up with all of you when I get back though and ill put up a few photos before I go. Take it steady and best wishes to all, from me!
Slan mo Chara!
P@t.
......................................................................................................................
The wild, remote and beautiful Loch Firrib lies high up off the Gap road, a mountain pass that goes through 40 mountains here in Co. Wicklow. It sits at 682m and is not visible from any direction untill you are right on top of it. A map and a compass are essential as its very easy to get lost. The lake is fed from an underground spring that rises on the slopes of Conavala mountain. The mountain peeping above the horizon is Tonelagee 796m Which lies to the n/e of the lake.
Tonelagee means " Arse to the wind " as there is always a wind blowing on its s/w flank.
There is a road in Glasnevin in Dublin called Tonelagee Rd. Its a fairly nice area and a bit posh. The people who live there dont really know what the name means and I like that as arse to the wind road is a good place for them!! Im only poking a bit of fun really but I wouldnt live there!!! Im quite happy here in "Ballygobackwards!"
They are supposed to do Wild Swimming here but Ive never seen it. You would want to be totally mad to even chance it up there. and you could loose a lot of your important bits when they would drop off with the cold! Brrrr!
Tune!
Ive tried to find a tune to fit this scene but I struggled. I settled for " The Corrs " Loch Ernes Shore [ the correct title! ] which is beautiful. Loch Erne is in Co. Galway. People will say that the Corrs, from Dundalk are a pop group but that is incorrect. They are traditional musicians who had some pop hits. Indeed their albums are peppered with traditional Irish tunes. Ive seen them live many times and they are superb and totally natural. They are very easy on the eye too! Well, 3 out of 4 aint bad! Poor Jim Corr! Mind you didnt he marry a supermodel! Isnt that awful for him! Good man yerself Jim!!!
" Lough Ernes Shore ";
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb5voqe5C8Q
Art O Neill And Hugh O Donnell. Escape from Dublin Castle 1592.
Hugh Roe O Donnell or "Red Hugh" as he was called, the Earl of Tirconnell was part of the family who were lords of Tir Connell, Northern Ireland, which at that period was the most catholic part of Ireland. He was born in 1572 in their stronghold which is now modern Donegal. The English had made peace with the O Donnells many years before as they had tried to defeat them many times but failed. They thought it was better to confer titles and give them land in exchange for their loyalty. However, it wasnt to be.
On the death of Red Hugh`s father there was a power struggle to see who would succeed him and after a number of fierce battles amongst the cousins, it wasnt resolved but it was expected that "Red Hugh" would succeed him which he did eventually.
At the age of 15 Hugh was bethrothed to Rose O Neill, the daughter of Hugh O Neill, the second Earl of Tyrone.
The English were frighted that this would create one of the most powerful alliances in Ireland which would be uncontrollable, so young Hugh was kidnapped by Sir John Perot to use as a bargaining tool, and imprisoned in Dublin Castle.
On Christmas eve, 1592, O Donnell, with the help of Art and Hugh O Neill, escaped and fled across the Wicklow mountains to the stronghold of Fiach Mc Hugh O Byrne, in Glenmalure about 40 miles across the mountains, in the dead of night. Unfortunately it was one of the worst winters on record and they were badly caught high up on the mountains. Young Art O Neill died of exposure at the foot of a waterfall on Conavala mountain not far from this Lough. There is a large wooden cross overlooking the place and its know as "Arts Cross" in his memory. There is an incribed plaque on the cliff in the little valley where he died. It is written in old Irish script and it is very moving to see it as they say his body is buried here.
Hugh O Donnell successfully reached O Byrnes stronghold, in Glenmalure though suffering from frostbite, he survived having lost a number of toes. He was eventually safely returned to Donegal but he and many others had to flee Ireland and live in exile in Spain as NI was resettled by Protestant planters in 1609 as England felt that it was the only way they could control it. It didnt really resolve the situation as we all know of "the troubles" there which a lot of good people from both sides, fought hard politically to resolve with it great amount of success. It cost 3500 lives, many totally innocent, unfortunately. Enough! We are all hoping and praying here! Yes! Even a total heathen like meself as the alternative doesnt bear thinking about.
Hope you like the somewhat grainy photo as it was a wild day and I suppose it does fit as a tribute to young Art O Neill who lost his life here on that dreadful night so long ago.
Best wishes to all my friends out there in the wilds!
P@t.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hugh_Roe_O%27Donnell
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plantation_of_Ulster
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Curlew_Pass
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiach_McHugh_O%27Byrne
Footnote;
This period when the last great chieftains left Ireland is called "The Flight of the Earls" and it is sad as they were the last of their kind.
It was a very difficult place to get to as the ground decending by the waterfall is very unstable but it was wonderful to see the spot where Art died and to think for a moment on such a sad loss of life of such a heroic young man.
" The Art O Neill Challenge " takes place every year here in his memory where groups of "mad" Irish people run from Dublin to Conavala across the mountains, at night in all weathers in Arts memory which though totally off the wall is a very special thing really.
P.
A Green Anole peeks over the edge of a leaf, looking for insects to eat. I spent about two hours with these little lizards in my sister's back yard in Jacksonville, Florida when visiting last year (2019). Very happy with some of my captures :)
Green Anoles average about 4 inches in body size, with their tails extending another 4 inches. While the lizard above appears quite large, it is due to the perspective of my macro lens magnification, and the close proximity of the lens to the animal.
In order to get this close without spooking it and having it scurry away, it required a very patient stalking technique involving slow movement, quiet presence, and muscles in my arms and hands that often quivered uncontrollably due to holding my heavy gear for such extended handheld sessions! Actually surprising that ANY of my images were sharp, lol.
The woman possessed the perfect formula for perverted passions... to know how to ignite her devotion........ all it needed was a look, a gesture or a word and she obeyed! She was the glory of his hell, in such a way that he could not resist, all that desire, passion and desire to possess her was uncontrollable and from there she became His in his words Mine ! 🌹
Temibile (si fa per dire) Scoiattolo grigio (Sciurus carolinensis) a Torino
Come specie alloctona non dovrebbe essere presente in Europa ma oramai il danno è fatto, inutile sterminare una popolazione oramai incontrollabile con mezzi medievali. La natura troverà un nuovo equilibrio nonostante l'impegno della specie umana a scombinare sempre tutto
Fearsome (so to speak) gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) in Turin
As an allochthonous species it should not be present in Europe but by now the damage has been done, it is useless to exterminate a now uncontrollable population with medieval means. Nature will find a new balance despite the commitment of the human species to always mess everything up
Cosa fissa con tanta attenzione questo gabbiano? La pescheria di fronte a lui e sta elaborando la migliore tecnica per procurandosi il pranzo!!
Trieste è destinata a trasformarsi in una colonia per gabbiani. Può far sorridere, ma gli esemplari in città aumentano incontrollati, al ritmo del 10% in più l’anno. Ce ne sono circa 2.500, che volteggiano sopra le teste dei triestini.
ROYAL SEAGULL (COCAL IN TRIESTINO)
What is this seagull staring at so intently? The fish shop in front of him and he is working out the best technique to get his lunch!!
Trieste is destined to transform into a colony for seagulls. It may make you smile, but the numbers in the city are increasing uncontrollably, at a rate of 10% more per year. There are around 2,500 of them, hovering above the heads of the people of Trieste.
The smoke stacks became visible over forty five minutes ago and remained resolutely distant. The road gets worse the further west you travel, over the last one hundred and twenty kilometres there are almost as many casualties stopped by the side of the road as vehicles passed. Mostly flat tires. And so, after a drive of five hundred and ninety kilometres we eventually arrive at our destination.
Descending down past the huge settling lagoons, the large old TETS sits to one side, a long ore preperation plant sits behind and in front of us is the smelter. The city lies behind.
This is Zheqazgan, a copper producing city almost dead centre of Kazakhstan. The world has an increasing appetite for this metal.
I already had a good look around on the satellite maps, and know that the smelters slag tipping is on this side of town. And a ladle train the first train we see, which makes us almost uncontrollably excited. Plodding back from the tip to the smelter, we easily overhaul the train. Jane watches in astonishment as we both leap out of the car with our camera gear and pile across the road and over the tracks. We have enough time to set up. The sun is on the other side of the tracks you see. Our activity gets us a wave and a whistle blast from the driver, who is probably bemused to see us there. This is our welcome into town!
TEM15-049 plods along with discharged slag ladles returning to the copper smelter at Zhezqazgan on the 3rd of April 2025.
The TEM15 locomotive is an improved version of the TEM2, similar to the TEM2M with a 1200hp Kolomya 6D49 engine. Most were destined for Cuba but never got there, Perestroyka, and production ceased at 194 locomotives, built 1987 to 1995, in line with the discontinuation of the 6D49 engine.
This is the end of part one of this trip, which shall recommence in good time. I must catch up with some domestic trains and also prepare the following series so I can show it to my own satisfaction. Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in this project.
Fenrir the wolf is the child of Loki and the giantess Angrboda, and brother to Hel and the Midgard Serpent.
He grew so fearsome that the gods finally bound him. Twice he broke free, but the third chain – Gleipnir, forged by dwarves from things that “do not exist” – held him fast until Ragnarok.
Fenrir is the very image of uncontrollable power. At Ragnarok, he breaks loose, devours the sun, and kills Odin in battle, before falling to Odin’s son Vidar.
Fenrir is terrifying, yet also necessary: he shows that no force can be restrained forever, and even the gods must face their fate.
...found in an almost uncontrollable tangle of sequin waste!
For mess and mayhem theme 7DoS focus Friday.
Also in Make me smile:)
Where will it crash? That is the big question that no one can answer yet. All eyes of the international space community have been on the Long March 5B, a Chinese rocket that is hurtling uncontrollably above the earth, for a week now.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ff5LTJBxkh0
“THE WEATHER OF LOVE
Love
Has a way of wilting
Or blossoming
At the strangest,
Most unpredictable hour.
This is how love is,
An uncontrollable beast
In the form of a flower.
The sun does not always shine on it.
Nor does the rain always pour on it
Nor should it always get beaten by a storm.
Love does not always emit the sweetest scents,
And sometimes it can sting with its thorns.
Water it.
Give it plenty of sunlight.
Nurture it,
And the flower of love will
Outlive you.
Neglect it or keep dissecting it,
And its petals will quickly curl up and die.
This is how love is,
Perfection is a delusional vision.
So love the person who loves you
Unconditionally,
And abandon the one
Who only loves you
Under favorable
Conditions.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem
This robust skipper was having a great time eagerly sipping nectar from the blooms of Autumn Olive (Elaeagnus umbellatus), a deciduous shrub native to Asia introduced into the U.S. as an ornamental plant in 1830.
Regrettably, Autumn Olive is highly adaptable and resilient spreading uncontrollably in the warming climate of the Mid-Atlantic states where entire alleys of this large shrub can be found along forest edges, in sunny clearings and meadows and along fence rows and roadsides. With enticingly fragrant flowers, Autumn Olive attracts pollinators in early spring and later in the fall it attracts birds that help to disperse its abundant fruit.
To those seeking a memorable outing, consider picnicking at Tom Sawyer Lake. Take off your shoes, sit by the bank, and allow yourself to be present in the moment. Mark Twain's wisdom serves as a lasting guide: "Life is short, break the rules. Forgive quickly, kiss slowly. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile."
4178a
Everywhere, a wind of revolt blows, a new consciousness arises, a battle is waged between humanity as a whole and a minuscule segment of that same humanity. The keywords? Injustice, climate, pollution!
"Poetical Revolt"
A Installation lauding poetry and its incendiary power.
Opening the 23 of March 12h30 SLT
"Vowels" poem of Rimbaud is the inspiration of the setup. It leads us across its colors.
Arthur Rimbaud, a revolted scoundrel, uncontrollable, unwanted, a pariah, and the man whose poems not only drastically transformed poetry but also opened a new window of understanding for the world. Is it not what all art is about? Contribute to a change of consciousness!
So it is for the poets, musicians, and singers introduced here. A personal and non exhaustive choice, of course, and yet all of them prophets and visionaries, all of them unconditionally dedicated to their art — till death prevails.
Canon EOS 6D - f/10 - 3.2sec - 100mm - ISO 200
- My granddaughters lost bouncing ball, and after more than 2 years found again in the garden.
Now beautiful - not her opinion ;-) - weathered and cracked.
Diameter of the ball 3.5cm
- I think nature did take excellent revenge on this uncontrollable bouncing ball by making cracks in it.
Why revenge? Because, before I banished granddaughter and ball from house to garden, it did crack a glass vase with flowers.
What a party! Kim Von Coels' 40th in a private field just down the road from Glastonbury was like a mini-festival. After a few strong beers and uncontrollably laughing at Mr Glitter Pants attempts to stand upright, it was time for Phill to drive 5 mins to the Tor, after the long inebriated crawl to the top I was knackered and only awoke briefly to take a couple of shots. Lucky that!
DSC06685
No need for regrets, for the mistakes made yesterday. The past is gone.
No looming fate. No uncontrollable destiny. No hunger. No fear. No sickness. No death.
Nothing ahead. Nothing behind.
Just stillness.
Light.
Warmth.
The pain you felt, the pain you may have caused others, is behind you.
No looking back. No fear of what's to come. Just the pulse of time.
Invigorating.
Soothing.
Bask in my light and take comfort knowing that I am here.
You will never be alone.
_______________________
Elden Ring releases today. A prospect that I find both exciting and intimidating. Here I gather my courage, and alongside Sparklebottom we plunge once more unto the breach.
i have a lot of hair and it's uncontrollable.
if i were more self conscious, this might bother me.
but i'm not.
and it doesn't.
2nd of ten performances finished. whoo!
"Life is short, break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably, never regret anything that made you smile." – Mark Twain
Taken at the Hong Kong Flower Show 2019
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This):
In my teens, pretty engaged with professional singing, I was eager to try anything that would help me improve.
It was indeed a challenge to stretch my vocal cords in a residential area, and so I decided to give it a try at the local beach. That didn't work, as I soon realised that it's absurd to sit somewhere at the beach and sing aloud. I even doubted that fishers and other visitors to the beach would drop coins near me if I dare try. Finally, I managed to find the right place. Yes, in a boat!
I started visiting the local boat club all alone, hire a rowing boat and row it in the backwaters, as far away as possible from the shore. It became a routine that I would reach the boat club by 3 pm and return by 5 pm.
Most often, I would be the only rower at the specified time slot. The audience consisted of cormorants, egrets, cranes, ducks and moorhens, and I believe I was not a trouble for them. Occasionally a train would vroom through the railway overbridge far above the lake.
The songs I used to scream/sing were ' Sweet Dreams ' and 'Missionary Man'. As my countertenor is close to Annie Lennox's contralto, I preferred singing those Eurythmics songs. Both of them have a punchy rhythm that perfectly goes along with the rowing tempo. In between, 'Let it Be' or 'Eight Days a Week' by The Beatles, 'Still Loving You' by Scorpions, 'Rosanna' by Toto or 'The House Of The Rising Sun' by The Animals, once a day. Occasionally, I 'tried' a few songs of Freddie Mercury and M.K.Thyagaraja Bhagavathar (mostly Amba Manam Kaninthu).
My rowing wont continued for several months till about the onset of the monsoon rains.
Being a daily visitor, the secretary of YMCA who is in charge of the boat club used to have friendly chats with me and once I revealed my honest intention to him, as he drew curious to know why I'm rowing all alone.
Those days, I have often seen a lady, probably in her late forties, at the boat club premises. Sari-clad and carrying a handbag, she had a charming, graceful face. I saw her eagerly observing my activities and watching me until I moved out of sight from the coast. Seldom when I return, I could see her waiting at the shore as if she's expecting someone.
One cloudy evening as I reached the boat club, as usual, I saw her sitting at the shore gazing at the lake. After signing the register at the office, I walked towards the boats, with the oars handed over to me from the office. On seeing me, she stood up and hesitantly approached me with a smile. Though she had her head covered with the palla of her purple sari, a sudden heavy breeze blew a wisp of her hair on to her forehead. Clearing her forehead and adjusting the drape, she asked," Son, where are you from?". When I introduced myself, she apologised for dawdling my time and politely asked me whether I can spare some time to lend an ear to her. I said it's all right, and she said, "Please come," and walked towards a large tree in the compound. We sat on the concrete around the tree seat, and straight away, she asked, "Son, you come here to sing, right?". While I smiled, she continued rather hastily, "Do you know the song 'Manjil Virinja Poove '? " I said, "Yes, I sing it", and I could see her face brighten. She said, " I don't want to waste your time." Pointing to a spot bit far from the shore, almost below the railway overbridge, she said," Many years back, a person dear to me drowned there. He loved this place, and he used to sing. Today is his birthday. Can you please do me a favour?". Perplexed, before I could answer, pointing to the spot that she showed earlier, she continued," When you reach that spot, can you please sing that song for him?. It was his favourite song." As I sat stupefied for a while, I even forgot what I am there for when she abruptly shook my shoulder and repeated the question. I said, "Don't worry, I'll do that", and I could see her soul through her tear-filled eyes. I got up and walked towards the boat as I saw her whimpering uncontrollably.
I know the song very well, and I often sing it, but I have never sung any song in such an exigent situation. Oblivious of what I am doing, I unfastened the boat and set off from the shore with involuntary movements. Even though I was far from the coast, I didn't sing my usual songs.
I could see the dark clouds looming, along with heavy winds.
In a soliloquy, I asked," Does Nature read one's mind?" and I turned to check whether she is watching me from the shore. No, she's not there. Perhaps she's communicating with her beloved, else crying her heart out. I nearly reached the place that she pointed to, and I sang the song in my sonority. Felt that my regular audience is more attentive than usual, felt everything around, and the whole eternity is listening keenly. As I stopped rowing, the vessel just drifted along the lake. Back to my senses, I took control of the boat and thought of returning.
I was pretty sure that she would be waiting underneath the tree, awaiting my return and was keen to inform her that I fulfilled her desire. Eager to see her smile, quickly I fastened the boat to the shore and hurriedly walked towards the tree. No, she was not there. It started drizzling when I came out of the office after handing over the oars. With the song still reverberating in my mind, I left the place as the drizzle turned to a downpour.
The next day, another sunny day, I reached the boat club as usual and set out with my routine exercise. I sang my songs aloud as always and returned by about 5 pm, as earlier. That day, I inquired about her to the secretary. He said she's a frequent visitor and usually keeps gazing at the lake for hours. Though not clear about the circumstances of the death of her lover, he's sure it's drowning, and it occurred rightly at the spot that she pointed. He said that she remained a spinster following the death of her beloved, and people say she's mad.
I continued my routine for a few more weeks, and I nevermore saw that lady again. Soon the monsoon showers followed, and my rowing and singing practice stopped forever. Later one day I visited the boat club and found a new secretary has taken charge. I walked towards the lake and found that the rowing boats have vanished. It was a sunny day, and the lake appeared to be smiling in glee.
Very soon, the sky turned dark and cloudy. A heavy wind blew away dead leaves and fallen flowers from the ground as I walked back humming 'Manjil Virinja Poove '.
"Sweet Dreams are made of this, Everybody's looking for something."
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Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This): Sweet Dreams
Manjil Virinja Poove: Manjil Virinja Poove
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
The wind delivers a blunt force that is rendered impalpable to us now, as it scours the intricately cracked and frozen surface of Sky Pond, in Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado. Sunrise brings highlights to the slopes of Taylor Peak (13,158 ft.; 4,011 m) in the distance as we look west toward the Continental Divide. The frozen surface of the Pond is riddled with bubbles of magnificent array and size range, trapped until the spring thaw sets them free.
This morning remains memorable for many reasons, from the hike up past Loch Vale through the frozen dark, to the deep drifts at the base of the icy cascade of Timberline Falls, to the way the wind howled so fiercely in a pinch point near Lake of Glass that communication was reduced to emphatic signing to keep the hell moving. Gaining the vantage of Sky Pond revealed a glittering surface that undergirded the sunrise as it hit The Sharkstooth on the ridge just adjacent to Taylor Peak. With particularly fierce gusts, I could feel the micro spikes I was wearing on my feet begin to break from their purchase, and I wondered what it might feel like to begin sliding uncontrollably backwards, awaiting whatever location into which the whimsical wind might suddenly place me with increasing anxiety.
Thanks for reading and for the visit!
Moving on from Oxtongue Rapids, I knew I had to make time for a stop at Arrowhead Provincial Park. I was here once before so I was aware of two really nice photo spots that were easy to get to.
Stubs falls is my favorite of the two and I was fortunate that it was overcast enough to not create uncontrollable highlights on the water.
A couple of setups...a few brackets of each...gotta go!
Thanks for looking.
My son has an all too ready sense of humour at times. On Sunday evening as I stood here taking in the final moments of my view before racing home to episode 5 of Line of Duty I sent a message to my children. It said quite simply - "one day, but not quite yet hopefully, you can spread my ashes here." I'm not sure why the thought hadn't occurred to me before. This place always makes me feel uncontrollably happy you see. It's had the same effect upon me year in year out since I was first brought here as a teenager more than forty years ago, and it's one of the reasons why I keep coming back with the camera again and again to add yet another image to the ever growing Godrevy album in my Flickr stream.
My daughter responded in kind. It's her local beach and she's one of that growing number of people who swims all year round no matter how cold it is - quite often in the waters here. We've planned to meet up here tomorrow after work - fortunately for photography rather than water sports as it's far too early in the year for me to be donning the wetsuit and racing into the sea. My son's reply was altogether more predictable and to the point. "Rightio. I have a week off coming up, so can be arranged," came the not unexpected witticism. I really need to have another look at my will.
Much of Sunday had been spent in a very similar manner to the days beforehand, during which I'd been on annual leave. The weather has been cold, but clear and calm, meaning that our favoured position next to the garage wall in our loungers had brought the annual garden sunbathing season to an early start. It was only at the last hour that I decided I was going to make a visit to Godrevy for a completely different sunset image that never materialised thanks to the bank of cloud you see on the left hand side of this one. Undeterred by this setback I stayed to enjoy the waves breaking on the rocks below me and take unusable photographs of them. Well they're unusable at the moment but I might change my mind about them later of course. Slowly I strolled back towards the car park, thinking of my dinner and trying to remember what had happened in the previous episode of Line of Duty - I really need a notebook for that series. At various tried and tested vantage points I stopped and turned, just to watch, noticing the line of cloud radiating out to the left of the lighthouse. By the time I arrived here another line of cloud was heading across the sky on the opposite side, with a lovely pink glow just above Godrevy itself.
At moments like this it's almost impossible to tear oneself away from a scene as calm and beautiful as this, no matter how hungry you are nor how much you're looking forward to another hour of splendid confusion in front of the television. But it was Sunday evening and almost 9pm - and the dreaded return to a new term at work awaited me the following morning so dutifully I retraced those final yards to my car and headed home.
Another week is more than halfway through and an evening with the wide angle lens beckons on the beach at low tide tomorrow. All is well in my contented little world. Happy hump day folks.
“And it’s my birthday too!” I added needlessly but truthfully. Even I could hear how pathetic that sounded as the worlds tumbled uncontrollably from my mouth. People need to know it’s your special day when you’re seven, not in your late fifties. I was only adding to what was already probably a gentle sense of concern in the eyes of my rescuers, all of whom were decades younger than me. “What a strange, hapless old man,” they probably thought, and were only prevented from saying by their own politeness. “Happy birthday!” came a small volley in response. “It would have been a shame to get lost on your birthday.” Until that moment I’d almost forgotten what day it was – and staggering to a lonely death in plunging temperatures at an altitude of over eleven hundred metres above sea level didn’t seem the best way to mark the occasion.
Ten minutes earlier, I was confident I’d find the way back to the car easily enough; despite it having disappeared completely from view three hours beforehand, I’d only wandered two or three hundred metres at most. Five minutes after this, I was approaching the early stages of panic. What light there was had started to fade as the thick fog that hung over every inch of my world darkened slightly, giving me no indication of exactly where I was. There was no discernable path that I could see. I was in no doubt that I’d walked past the big lone tree earlier, but I couldn’t remember exactly where from. I was sure I’d had the fence to my left, but now there was more than one fence to choose from. Maybe it had been on my right side after all? I had passed a group of three small benches, but now they appeared to have been removed by the local council while I’d roamed the trees, pointing my camera at every shape that loomed out of the fog and into the viewfinder. While the five layers I was wearing and the continual wandering around had stopped me getting cold, Bill Bryson’s tales of hypothermia induced insanity in “A Walk in the Woods” appeared at the forefront of my mind. If I didn’t find the car, or the road before darkness fell, I was going to be in trouble. Again, I studied my phone; there’s a place at home where I always get lost and where Google Maps always sets me right again – but we weren’t in Ladock Wood at the moment and the location service on my phone was still firmly of the opinion that I was at the bottom of the mountain in Ribeira da Janela. And why had I left my head torch in the top flap of the suitcase? Hadn’t I specifically brought it on this holiday for these moments I’d spend blundering around in the dark? The truth was we’d only gone a little way up the hill six hours earlier for a pastel da nata and a cup of coffee in the café that had been recommended to us. The rest had crept upon us, slowly and certainly as we headed further up the mountainside and disappeared into the mist, so far in fact that Fanal became the obvious destination.
And what a destination it was too for that matter. Under its white shroud it delivered everything and more that I’d hoped for. Six hundred year old Laurel trees, each of them distinct from the others, each of them full of character, shaped and bent by the elements over time. Every one of them cloaked in gowns of dark moss and an abundance of tiny green ferns. Like the proverbial seven year old in the sweet shop I lost all sense of time and meaning as I immersed myself in a landscape like none I’d ever seen before. An intimate and compact landscape where only what was visible existed, and what I couldn’t see was irrelevant. Specimens such as Treebeard here seemed as though they might uproot themselves at any time and tread away into the fog to converse with old friends. Over the nearly eight years since photography became something more than holiday snaps, a handful of places that I’d probably never otherwise thought of visiting had stood out in my mind as the memorable ones, and now Fanal Forest had crashed the party and joined the A list. I can only wonder at what the fog was hiding from me; what I might have seen on a clear day. Somewhere nearby there’s a lake, but for now it remained undiscovered somewhere down the slope. It begs me to return - I like having reasons to go back to places.
But as I took my last shots and eventually persuaded myself that it really was time to go and find Ali, who was waiting in the car with the novel she’d picked up from the shelf in the house where we were staying, I realised that I wasn’t quite sure which way I’d come. With the shroud tightening around me, the knot of woodland between the car and I had disappeared completely, and the big lone tree was the only marker that I was certain of. If I could find the road I’d be ok – it would just be a case of walking up the hill a bit – but what I wasn’t sure of, was whether there were any nasty surprises lying in wait. Madeira is full of enormous vertical cliffs and I wasn’t certain of what lay out of sight. I set out from the big tree a second time, then a third and a fourth, before returning to what I knew. And then I saw the figures, grey shapes moving through the landscape ahead of me – five of them chattering away happily to each other; very probably the group I’d silently cursed an hour earlier as they’d posed for selfies in the middle of the composition I was eyeing up. With no idea what language I was listening to, I raced along behind them, calling out to my unknowing saviours.
We were in a car park now. Not the one we’d pulled up at earlier in the day, but at least I now knew where the road was, and finding my way back was assured. There’s only one road up here after all. I began to walk along it but the rescuers called out through the darkness, insisting they drive me back to my car. One American among them, the rest were from Slovenia, a country full of mountains. I guessed they knew what they were about in a place such as this then. I was glad I’d found them – full of kindness and friendship. Within minutes I had been returned to my car, where Ali had given up reading and begun to wonder whether she’d ever see me again. I thanked my new friends gushingly and waved until their cars disappeared down the track into the approaching night. Maybe I was being melodramatic – I’d probably have found my way back eventually, but for fleeting moments I was definitely beginning to get worried. As birthdays go in middle age, it had been the most memorable one in years; a bit of a close shave, something that I hope never happens to Treebeard here - he'd lose something of himself I'm sure you'll agree.
A few days later we returned to Fanal after walking the nearby Levada do Risco, where it had been clear and sunny. Again, ending up here was inevitable, and this time we thought we would have very different conditions. Yet as we crept down the slope, glimpsing the one and only cloud inversion of our fortnight through the windscreen at a spot with nowhere to stop as we did, the fog rolled in again. This time I parked in the big car park and made certain of my journey into the mystical forest. This time I took photographs on my phone to show me the way back. This time I tore myself away before darkness fell, and I found the car without the help of a team of mountain guides.
“Here is a town to shame the world,” wrote William L Shirer of Ljubljana, the Slovenian capital in March 1937. “It is full of statues and not one of them a soldier. Only poets and thinkers have been so honoured.” It was a paragraph that struck me profoundly and stayed with me when I read it, and ever since I did so nearly twenty years ago, I resolved to one day visit Slovenia. Maybe it’s time now. Maybe I’ll watch my step in the mountains and make sure I’ve packed my bivvy bag.
I hope you have a lovely weekend, and I hope for your own wellbeing you meet some Slovenians along the way to guide you if you're in the hills lost in fog.
La centrale di Fukushima fuori controllo in Giappone, proprio nel paese in cui il mostro atomico si vide per la prima volta in tutto il suo orrore, è la prova inconfutabile che il dolce mondo in cui siamo nati porta in sé una condanna a morte che lo minaccerà fino al giorno della sua distruzione, quella potenza distruttiva dell'atomo che l'umano ottimismo pensava di poter controllare è invece risultata incontenibile.=======""The central Fukushima out of control in Japan, in the country where the atomic monster was seen for the first time in all its horror, is conclusive proof that the sweet world in which we are born carries a death sentence that threaten until the day of its destruction, the destructive power of the atom optimism that human thought can control and instead it becomes uncontrollable.
This is the last from this intriguing chunk out of a geology textbook in Southern Switzerland. I switched back to good ol' Velvia for this and it proceeded to do its predictable trick in open-shade of sending everything spinning uncontrollably towards the blue end of the spectrum. Fortunately, Photoshop was on hand to apply the brakes and pull things back towards normality.... :O)
Oh and that tree is the same one that starred in the first of this set, trying to muscle its way into another shot. These trees, eh? ;^)
lIFE iS sHORT, bREAK THE rULES,fORGIVE qUICKLY,kISS sLOWLY,lOVE tRULY,lAUGH uNCONTROLLABLY,aND nEVER rEGRET aNYTHING tHAT mADE yOU sMILE...
If that F4U Corsair in the foreground looks sort of out of place it might be because it’s a 1/5 scale radio controlled model.
Definitely not a historic scene. Quite sure there were no Marine Corps Corsairs on the deck of the Franklin.
USS Franklin (CV-13)
Off the coast of Okinawa, the morning of 19 March 1945, USS Franklin received an urgent message from USS Hancock (CV-19) that a twin engine enemy plane was closing in on “Big Ben” (affectionally nicknamed by the Franklin crew). Minutes later, a Japanese bomber emerged from a bank of clouds. Despite the gunners’ efforts, the plane managed to hit Franklin with both of its 550-pound, semi-armor piercing bombs. One of the bombs hit the flight deck and penetrated through to the hanger deck where it exploded on impact. The explosion, tragically, instantly killed all the crewmembers located at the forward part of the hanger deck. The second bomb struck the flight deck, which started a series of uncontrollable fires that ignited multiple planes in the process of taking off. The initial explosions were followed by five-hours of heavier detonations that “turned up five bombers, 14 torpedo planes and 12 fighters,” all loaded with medium load, general purpose bombs and “Tiny Tim” rockets. Although the ship’s commander was advised to “abandon ship,” he did not take action, because he believed his crew could save the ship. By 9 a.m., the task group commander and his staff were evacuated from Franklin. Shortly thereafter, the light cruiser USS Santa Fe (CL-60) came alongside Franklin and began removing injured Sailors. In addition to the 103 wounded, nearly 795 other Sailors were evacuated. The carrier took on a list of about three degrees to starboard and lost all headway as it lay dead in the water. Meanwhile, USS Hickox (DD-673) and USS Miller (DD-535) assisted in picking up hundreds of other survivors that had been either driven or blown overboard by the explosions and fires. Despite the evacuations and casualties, 106 officers and 604 enlisted Sailors remained onboard Franklin in the fight to keep her afloat.
Later that day, heavy cruiser USS Pittsburgh (CA-72) “shackled a towing wire to the outboard end of Franklin’s starboard anchor chain,” and Hellcats from Enterprise provided air cover. Although most of the fires were under control, Franklin developed a 13-degree list to her starboard. Struggling through the water, then just 50 miles off the coast of Japan, Franklin remained in great danger. In fact, only two hours into her tow, she was attacked by a Japanese Judy, which fortunately, was driven off by anti-aircraft fire. Through the crew’s valiant efforts to save the ship, quite fittingly, she thereafter became known as “The Ship That Wouldn’t Die.” Nonetheless, Franklin’s tragic bombing resulted in a devastating number of casualties—796 killed and another 265 wounded. Eventually, Franklin regained steering control and was able to make it to Ulithi Lagoon on 24 March before she returned to the United States, arriving at the New York Navy Yard on 28 April.
A number of the crew distinguished themselves during the tumultuous 19 March attack. Lieutenant Commander Joseph T. O’Callahan, the ship’s Roman Catholic chaplain, consoled many of the dying men and encouraged others to fight the fires and save the ship. Lieutenant (j.g.) Donald A. Gary managed to lead 250–300 crewmembers to safety, who were trapped below deck. Both O’Callahan and Gary later received the Medal of Honor for their heroic actions on that day. The following month, the first awards for valor were presented to the crew of the ship. As a whole, Franklin’s Sailors became one of the most decorated crews in U.S. Navy history. Collectively, in addition to the two Medals of Honor, they received 19 Navy Crosses, 22 Silver Stars, 116 Bronze Stars, 235 Letters of Commendation, and more than 1,100 Purple Hearts.
Source: Naval History and Heritage Command
May I point out that this picture is Copyright protected under U.S. copyright law.
U.S. copyright law protects creators of original, creative works from having their intellectual property used by others. Copyright infringement is the reproduction, distribution, or alteration of a creative work without the owner’s permission. Common examples of copyright infringement against you might include:
• Uploading your photos to the internet,
• Stealing licensed software from your website,
• Plagiarizing your written text, and
• Using substantial parts of your song in a new recording
without attributing you.
As I get older, my hands sometimes shake uncontrollably. Even using my tripod, I tend to jerk the camera when pressing the shutter. Out of 10 or 15 shots, this was the best I could get of this Orb Weaver having his breakfast.
That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it... ;)
This place is full of petrified wood and fossilized dinosaur bone fragments.
Job 21:6 “When I think about this, I'm petrified with terror and my body shudders uncontrollably.”
Revelation countdown to nuclear meltdown:
“US working on nuclear bomb that could kill 300,000 in Moscow: report”
I hope you're not bored yet....! Next Alien.
Have a grand week guys.Thanks for comments and faves.
My Zenfolio site- noro8.zenfolio.com/
My DeviantART- noro8.deviantart.com/
stock- cheyenne75.deviantart.com/
Reminds me of a Blonde Joke...
This man and his wife (who is Blonde) were watching the morning news when the announcer was handed a piece of paper...
"This just in, an airplane just crashed with 2 Brazilian men on board, more details to follow.."
The man said, "That's too bad. I feel sorry for them."
Then the Blonde breaks into a fit of uncontrollable sobbing, "How terrible to loose so many men in one plane crash...waaahhh!"
The man, looking a bit confused, gathered his wife into his arms and said "Honey it was only 2 Brazilian men in that plane."
The wife, wiping her eyes but continued choking back sobs said, "Didn't you hear the news, 2 Brazilian men! ... How many is a Brazilian?!"
"No, no, no honey, the 2 men were from Brazil, there were only 2 on the plane."
HAHAHA - Hey it's Monday and my wife is a Blonde, so I can tell this kind of joke! (she does not understand them anyway!)
One measure of humane, sustainable, biblical wisdom is not to take oneself so seriously that one becomes grimly self-focused but, instead, so to trust God that one retains a lifelong personal capacity for childlike fun, youthful play, hilarious frivolity, uncontrollable laughter to the point of tears and goofing off with a clear conscience. I believe this. (Ray Ortlund)
This photograph was taken at Pushkar Annual Camel Fair-2016. This place is quite famous for rural Rajasthani culture and camel trade. This pic was captured when the camel was vaccinated and it became uncontrollable. It was a rare sight since camels are domesticated animals, so that made me capture the picture.
Made with www.adobe.com/go/psx
This is a cut down version of the original. The car was not moving when the photo was taken. The tutorial purpose was to see if it could be made to appear to be moving. Motion blur to wheels and plain walls in background. The camera boom was stuck by a pad to the bonnet so it had to digitally disappear. Image in original format too wide for Flickr so it has been cropped. Advertising slogan and frame added.
I take no credit for original image of static car. Provided free to magazine readers for tutorial purposes.
Advertising people don’t like outdoor shots - too many uncontrollable things. They are control freaks so a nice bare garage and a car and Photoshop is what they like.
That time i was 400 meter away from droneand 170 meter high/ The battery was critical low.
at 10% charge, it became almost uncontrollable. If at 20% you can still activate the "return home" mode, then at 10% he just tries to sit on the spot where he is. He quickly lost height and spin, but under it was cathedral and a crowd of people. Holding the button up, I was somehow return him the take-off place, when the charge was only 2%. Everything happened pretty quickly, about 2-3 minutes, but then it seemed like an eternity.
One nasty side effect of the snow and ice recently is that people seem to have an uncontrollable urge to throw things onto the frozen surface of the canal. Not so bad when it is a snowball or stone, rrying to break the ice, but a lot of litter and trash is thrown on, from traffic cones to a lot of booze bottles. Then the ice melts and they either float around or sink to block up the bottom of the canal. I know they say "serve chilled" on the bottles, but this isn't what they meant, I think...