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The Silicon Valley had nice clouds on Sunday, so I decided to head up to Mt. Hamilton to observe the sunset. By the time I was up there most clouds were gone. I took this shot of the San Francisco Bay with a tele-zoom lens 20 minutes after sunset.
Does anybody recognize the title?
I processed a balanced HDR photo from a RAW exposure. I actually took three exposures but used only one because of better color and to avoid ghosting. The RAW file has a big enough dynamic range at 100 ISO.
Thank you for visiting - ♡ with gratitude! Fave if you like it, add comments below, like the Facebook page, order beautiful HDR prints at qualityHDR.com.
-- © Peter Thoeny, CC BY-NC-SA 4.0, HDR, 1 RAW exposure, NEX-6, _DSC5551_hdr1bal1e
The moon and her thoughts
A concept that has been in my mind for some time. Damn, raw, sexy, and full of unsaid words.
“Blue Fires” by Delerium, Mimi Page
www.youtube.com/watch?v=grb2G1uSNbc
I had a wonderful time walking around the city of Orillia this past Friday. All the strangers that I encountered on the street were super friendly and patient when I was taking photos (waiting for me to get my shot before walking past, for example). It’s a great feeling when the sun is shining and you feel inspired and connected to those around you. #lifeisgood
This melting evening of ours
Where everything dissolves
the scent of your clothes
the blossoming
sprouts of my dreams
All dissolves
A deferred vision, this is
In a little while,
a star will emerge on the horizon
To gaze at you
Meaningfully…!
Your heart shall then reminisce
the echo of a memory
The tale of a separation,
Of an unfinished moment
Of unblossomed dreams, things unsaid
We ought to have met
In times, considerate
In pursuit of attainable dreams
On a different sky
On a different earth
We ought to have met
~ Parveen Shakir (translated by Jahane Rumi)
'We are master of the unsaid words, but slave of the ones we let slip away' Natalia writes.
She wants to paint the silence, the words not spoken, the freedom, thoughts swirling around her, the desire, the joy, the fear, the pain; her mind is constantly active because it's always filled with ideas and she has no choice but to create. Putting the colors together, with many cheerful tones, she colors the day before it gets dark.
Opening party: Thursday 24 May, 12 pm SLT
Music by DJ Gitu Aura
Dress code: Natalia would like all attendees to her opening party to dress up in their most colorful outfit
It's truly great to have Natalia's work back at my gallery. The June-July 2018 exhibition @ Nitroglobus
Dido Haas
Here's your taxi to Nitroglobus:
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Sunshine%20Homestead/38/25...
Thirteenth Brook, Adirondacks, NY
It rises from Thirteenth Lake, its uninspired namesake, and runs through dense woods, until emerging in this little meadow, where she and I meet. This time of year, the vegetation is lush, the ground is over saturated with water, and made the more so by the beaver dams that have backed it up, leaving it nowhere to go but into the banks. I traversed the trunks and limbs of a couple of downed trees, then made my way testing for solid land and hummocks to get to the water's edge. There's not a sound in the riverbed. In its mirror, only the clouds move. If this brook is the voice of the lake, it is made mute here, by a plug of earth and wood. It is not forever…energy wins in the end. Most waters are dammed, again and again, all the way to the finality of the oceans. Man has learned to hold things back; letting water run wild is like saying the first thing that comes to mind. There is a reservoir within us, deep with thoughts and emotions. They are fluid, changing, pushing for expression. They spill out in spoken words and written admissions, in a current of love, hate, sadness, and joy. And we erect our own barriers to control the flow, lest the power we unleash wash out all at once, and cause damage, downstream. We hold so much back, maybe because we fear the rebuke of our anger, the dampening of our joy, or the rejection of our love. It is a delicate game, maintaining the pressure of what we leave unsaid. A wedge of light finds a way along the tree line. I let my feelings seep through, a little bit at a time.
This photo is taken in dry fish processing zone in coastal area of Chittagong, Bangladesh. A lot of people worked in the zone. Male & Female both are working there. The children of the workers passed time with their parents. This cute child also there to enjoy his parents work & some times help his parents. He was very much curious in his eyes to see the dry fish working systems. I tried to capture his eyes expressions which says a lot of untold stories. His lovely eyes touched me that how much curious he is with his parents work.
A Perfect Day
The sun has set and golden
Clouds gleam in the evening sky
I must confess I'd always hoped
Today would pass me by
Dad I really hate to see
The sadness in your eyes
we always knew this day would come
it cant be a surprise
We had our special day to think
You were always my best friend
But the princess and the old king
Knew this day would end
A perfect day, a perfect day with you
Just a perfect day of perfect hours
No other word will do
A perfect day, a day for you and I
Now the evening shadows chill my heart
And I cant say goodbye
It was always I who said I'll see you soon
When you were young
So many things we left unsaid
So many songs unsung
Dad dont worry now I'm grown it'll be ok
You taught me well so trust me now
And I'll be on my way
We had our special day together
You were always my best friend
But the princess and the old king
Knew this day would end
A perfect day, a perfect day with you
Just a perfect day of perfect hours
No other word will do
A perfect day, a day for you and I
Now the evening shadows chill my heart
And I can't say goodbye
A perfect day, a day for you and I
Now the evening shadows chill my heart
And I cant say........
I'm leaving home
Goodbye
Roger & Jessica Whittaker
On Black with Annie Lennox - Why?
How many times do I have to try to tell you
That I'm sorry for the things I've done
But when I start to try to tell you
That's when you have to tell me
Hey... this kind of trouble's only just begun
I tell myself too many times
Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut
That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words
That keep on falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Tell me...
Why
Why
I may be mad
I may be blind
I may be viciously unkind
But I can still read what you're thinking
And I've heard is said too many times
That you'd be better off
Besides...
Why can't you see this boat is sinking
(this boat is sinking this boat is sinking)
Let's go down to the water's edge
And we can cast away those doubts
Some things are better left unsaid
But they still turn me inside out
Turning inside out turning inside out
Tell me...
Why
Tell me...
Why
This is the book I never read
These are the words I never said
This is the path I'll never tread
These are the dreams I'll dream instead
This is the joy that's seldom spread
These are the tears...
The tears we shed
This is the fear
This is the dread
These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel
Do you know how I feel ?
'cause i don't think you know how I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
You don't know what I feel
Pic taken at Xaveria Pure SL
OK, April made a new account, because of two reasons, and two of them shall remain unsaid due to unsaid reasons >:B Kudos to anyone who got that.
Anyways, so, I made a new account, and I photo-edited a picture. I only did this for an hour and a half, and I was quite surprised of the results. Would you look at that weird looking planet that is exploding. That was supposed to be some kind of blasting ring. Only it turned into some kind of burning meteor. Man, that was hard to do. And I think I went out of practice when it comes to drawing hair... I need to work on that. :D
Anyways, I shall go and retrieve some stuff from my other account. See yaz! :D
The model's name is Maye, by the way.
Not sure what's been said
can't trust what's been read
just maligned this way instead
call me over, just be careful where I tread
this mess isn't fair when all's been said
can't forget these pains that grip my road ahead
every minute a battle against a thread
at what point does life rejoin the living bridgehead
I no longer believe the self-opined clinical aforesaid
the pangs of doubt overtake the hurting words left unsaid
a heart secedes all belief now home is a sickbed
explosive skies no longer take me by surprise in a world filled with dread.
by anglia24
10h45: 29/06/2007
♪
●●●●●●●●●●●●
© 2007anglia24
Photo By: Cate Infinity
Head: Genus Morph
Hair: YumYum
Jewelry: Yummy
Pose with Guitar: Secret Poses
Body: Maitreya
Tats: Bolson
Fur Coat: Gabriel
Top and Bottom: Cheezu
Make-Up: Warpaint and Ives
Shape: My own
In the shallow breath of morning,
you are the ghost of coffee steam
curling into the cold indifference of the air.
We are nothing more than fragile whispers
in a crowded room,
treading on the ice of silent words
and softer letdowns.
This love,
too lean,
feeds on the crumbs of could-be’s,
starved for more than the touch
of fingertips brushing
accidentally
on purpose.
You are the half-light of winter dawn,
a flickering candle in the vast dark,
each moment with you
is a careful dance,
steps measured in the careful cadence
of unsaid things.
We are an unfinished poem,
lines broken,
rhymes unsettled,
a reluctant pulse echoing
in the hollows of our almosts.
Yet we linger here,
in the thin hope of what might,
drawing breath from a love
that never quite fills the lungs,
always yearning,
perpetually held
in the ache of almost
Soundtrack: www.youtube.com/watch?v=95FyXUHv8hk
When leaves glisten and the rain patters,
Footsteps echo and birds chatter.
Thoughts come and go about past and present,
Always revisiting, they are incessant.
With roads not taken and words unsaid,
One cannot help but wonder what is ahead…
something so beautiful, can't be expressed in words
No tengo ni la más remota idea de que coño cantaban aquellas dos italianas y lo cierto es que no quiero saberlo, las cosas buenas no hace falta entenderlas. Supongo que cantaban sobre algo tan hermoso que no podía expresarse con palabras y que precisamente por eso te hacia palpitar el corazón. Os aseguro que esas voces te elevaban más alto y más lejos de lo que nadie viviendo en un lugar tan gris pudiera soñar. Fue como si un hermoso pájaro hubiera entrado en nuestra monótona jaula y hubiese disuelto aquellos muros, y por unos breves instantes, hasta el último hombre de Shawshank se sintió libre.
..........................................................................................................................................................
I have no idea to this day what those two Italian ladies were singing about. Truth is, I don't want to know. Some things are best left unsaid. I'd like to think they were singing about something so beautiful, it can't be expressed in words, and makes your heart ache because of it. I tell you, those voices soared higher and farther than anybody in a gray place dares to dream. It was like some beautiful bird flapped into our drab little cage and made those walls dissolve away, and for the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free.
Morgan Freeman / Ellis 'Red' Redding
Cadena Perpetua / The Shawshank Redemption
Kiln Pit Hill, near Shotley, Nothumberland.
"In 1769, a simple cruciform church was erected with a central arched roof, but by 1836 it was partly collapsed owing to pit workings... A drawing by Robert Blair in 1882 shows the ruined church of St Andrew's with gaping holes in its roof. It was restored in 1892 for use as a chapel of ease.
The church was declared redundant in 1973 when it was taken into the care of The Churches Conservation Trust."
Despite being remote, a man and his dog appeared within ten minutes of my arrival... although unsaid, he was clearly verifying the intentions of my visit. Good on him for being watchful over this gem.
So much time has passed
the memories remain
Anger faded and forgiveness came
As I emerged into his age
Leaving the child and the hurt behind
I wonder now
If I knew then
Would things have been any different
Those left behind
Traveled roads all alone
Leaving dreams unfulfilled
Sentences to rephrase
Thoughts
To take back
Words left unsaid
Questions to ask
If I knew then
Would things have been any different
A morning can arrive
And change the world
Altering the future
Creating a void
Without warning
Filling with tears
In the blink of an eye
The moments becoming the past
As wishes remain
only wishes
and I remain
missing you.
©k / sleepinsidemysoul.tumblr.com/post/157113946523#notes
Blog Post / InsomNia: Summer Open Side Chain Dress
sllorinovo.blogspot.com/2017/06/insomnia-summer-open-side...
Spectacular view during a Hurtigruten Cruise along the Norwegian Coastline. There was Rain throughout the Day, but around 21:30 the Clouds began to disappear and an awesome "lightshow" began.....
Leave unsaid, unspoken
Eyes wide shut, unopened
You and me always between the lines
I'm still so behind with catching up and I'm so sorry for that but school is taking over my life and I really hate that. The weather is so great and I honestly wish I would take more photos. Unfornately my pro account expires in 5 days :(
Next week my french exchage student will be here but I think that's definitely gonna be great :)
Hope you're having a lovely weekend!
GMRC GP9 1850 is bringing the passenger extra back to North Walpole to put up for the night. While the GMRC ran regular passenger tourist trains, they also ran on holidays and other special occasions. This was a trip for Valentines day, that stopped at the Bartonsville covered bridge for a Valentines kiss. Vermont covered bridges were know way back in time as kissing bridges. I know this is a basically useless story. Oh well, sometimes things are better left unsaid.
Of course the real story of this photo, is the 1850 is passing along side the former Boston & Maine roundhouse on the long abandoned 'Cheshire Branch'. The roundhouse was used by the GMRC to store their locomotives and also used it as a car repair shop for many years.
Scanned from a slide K64 Canon AE-1
In the hush of shadowed realms, where light dares not intrude, there exists a silence more profound than absence—a stillness that listens, that remembers. 「闇の中の静寂」 speaks not merely of quietude, but of the soul’s retreat into the unseen, the unspoken.
Darkness is not the enemy of truth, but its cradle. In its embrace, we confront the impermanence of form, the echo of forgotten selves, and the quiet dignity of things left unsaid. Silence within the darkness is not void—it is potential. It is the breath before revelation, the pause that holds eternity.
The first song on Kacey Musgraves great Country/Pop album is titled Cardinal. The song begins with her words;
I saw the sign or an omen
On the branches in the mornin'
It was right after I
Lost a friend without warnin'
Words unsaid
Scarlet-red
Cardinal
Are you bringin' me a message from the other side?
Photo By: Cate Infinity
In the quiet of a room, she sits,
with shadows long, like the memories of a choice
she made, in a moment of fear and resolve,
a weight only she could bear.
His voice, a whisper on the wind,
reaches out, trembling with the weight of words unsaid.
He carries his love like a banner,
worn and frayed, but held high in the storm.
He stands at the edge of her silence,
hands outstretched, trying to catch the pieces
of a heart shattered by time and pain,
by decisions made in the dark.
“I love you,” he says, over and over,
as if the words could weave a bridge
over the chasm of doubt that lies between them.
But she knows, love alone is not a balm
for wounds so deep, so raw.
She feels the echoes of her choice,
a ghost that lingers in the corners of her mind,
and wonders if he sees her, truly,
beyond the woman shaped by that moment,
beyond the burden she carries alone.
Yet he stays, through the nights of tears and silence,
through the days when her gaze is distant,
and her words are few. He stays,
not to fix, not to mend,
but to show that love endures,
even when it falters under the weight of what cannot be changed.
In his presence, she finds a quiet strength,
a reminder that love is not a cure,
but a hand to hold, a heart to lean on,
in the darkest of times.
And as they walk together,
through the shadow of a choice
that will always be hers to bear,
they find, not answers, not absolution,
but the simple truth that love,
when given freely, without condition,
can be enough.
How many times do I have to try to tell you
That I'm sorry for the things I've done
But when I start to try to tell you
That's when you have to tell me
Hey... this kind of trouble's only just begun
I tell myself too many times
Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut
That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words
That keep on falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Falling from your mouth
Tell me...
Why
Why
I may be mad
I may be blind
I may be viciously unkind
But I can still read what you're thinking
And I've heard is said too many times
That you'd be better off
Besides...
Why can't you see this boat is sinking
(this boat is sinking this boat is sinking)
Let's go down to the water's edge
And we can cast away those doubts
Some things are better left unsaid
But they still turn me inside out
Turning inside out turning inside out
Tell me...
Why
Tell me...
Why
This is the book I never read
These are the words I never said
This is the path I'll never tread
These are the dreams I'll dream instead
This is the joy that's seldom spread
These are the tears...
The tears we shed
This is the fear
This is the dread
These are the contents of my head
And these are the years that we have spent
And this is what they represent
And this is how I feel
Do you know how I feel ?
'cause i don't think you know how I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
I don't think you know what I feel
You don't know what I feel
///*\\\///*\\\///*\\\
...something,
that's all,
that's everything,
that's a little something,
that's the greatest something of them all...
just something for now,
something to say,
something unsaid,
something in my head...
///*\\\///*\\\///*\\\
- anglia24
07/05/2007
© 2007anglia24
I shared two stories in my latest 'podcast' episode. This, the second one, is bizarre not so much in what happened, but in how it was covered by the press.
You can listen to the full version of the stories anywhere you find podcasts. Just search for Conspiracy of Cartographers.
Susan Cargill's death in 1883 might not have been important enough for local paper, the St. Paul, Nebraska Phonograph, but she her loss certainly had an affect on her family.
Susan and Robert had ten children together, all of whom were still alive when she passed on at the young age of 43.
In 1902, her daughter Margaret died by suicide. The April 9, 1902 issue of the newspaper told all. She had "committed suicide yesterday afternoon by shooting herself through the head with a 22-calibre rife. The deed was done during the absence of her family and was evidently the result of deliberately laid plans."
Margaret had two young children, and sent them "to a neighbor's with instructions not to return for an hour and a half." It's unsaid, but presumed that it was her children who found her body.
The paper printed the note she left her husband, explained where she aimed the gun, and what she was wearing. "No motive for the rash deed is known," concluded the paper, she "had always enjoyed fairly good health."
Margaret's brother, Lewis, took the news the hardest. At 33, he was unmarried and living alone. According to the headline in the May 18th issue of the same newspaper: Louis Cargill Insane.
"It seems that nothing could be done to remove the effect of the sad termination of his sister's life," read the article. He was taken to an insane asylum in Lincoln.
He died on May 26, 1902. A June issue related the news, telling that "his health had failed rapidly as a result of his mental affliction and death came quickly to his relief."
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.
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'The Deed Was Done'
Camera: Chamonix 45F-2
Lens: Steinheil Rapid Antiplanet 6,5; 27cm
Film: Agfa CP-BU M X-Ray Film; 25iso
Exposure: f/12; 4sec
Process: Rodinal; 1+100; 5ish mins
Nebraska
July 2023
Tears Falling
Words unsaid
Was she stalling
Is this dread
Do I slip to lands of fae
Do I run or do I stay
Disappear in land of night
praps stay in the land of light
Tears falling
many shed
words galling
if left unsaid
You are drinking your coffee again
burrowed into the darkness
of the corner café, the only customer
under an overhead light.
And I am with you.
I’m the glare on the window glass,
the sparrow flitting past
(against the baby blue
of the sky) and I am the shadow
on the floor and all the others
around you, and the loneliness you love,
in the city through which you move,
another unremarkable dawn,
cool air touching your skin—
and when you begin
to yawn don’t cover your mouth,
and if you want to sing Auld Lang Syne
and think of Robbie Burns
who will die at 37, and imagine
rural Scotland before
your forebearers left for a new world,
and if you must say
what has been left unsaid: please
do so.
--M deO