Daniel Stewart's College Edinburgh

 

October 2018

 

My father was diagnosed with dementia in early 2016. As he declined I thought I should try and record him in some of the places that had meaning for him in his life. He was a pupil and head boy in 1953 at Daniel Stewart's College in Edinburgh before returning with a double first as a classics master.

 

The imposing Victorian neo-Gothic building with its crenelations and towers seemed a suitably dramatic backdrop since it was the foundation for his life and career as a headmaster. I am glad I took the few shots of him here and elsewhere in 2018 because all too soon even taking these sorts of pictures became an impossibility. He was admitted to a residential nursing home last week.

 

My father's picture will mean nothing to anyone else outside of our family. However, if you find yourself in a similar situation, it illustrates what I can only recommend: that you take the opportunity whilst you can. It may feel odd, morose or even morbid but persevere, time is fleeting and the decisive moments left, few. I am very glad to have even these limited number of pictures now since all my father's memory is but a memory now.

 

[PS I last saw my father on 8 March 2020, 10 days before Lockdown(I) began. He is now in a home and apparently well-cared for but his only family contact is my mother. COVID brings into sharp focus how photography can keep in mind those we can no longer see.]

 

[My father was finally released from his diabolical demented debasement on 12 October 2023, seven and a half years after his diagnosis. Death is never desired but of its many forms, dementia is a singular, utterly compelling dictator of the right to choose how you depart. The sanctity of life is patently facile when you see the person you love reduced to an unblinking, uncomprehending, uncommunicating, incontinent shrivelled husk of their physical being. My supremely admirable father passed away long before his body was finally over come. He would, with absolutely certainty, be distraught at his debasement and its impact on his most beloved and devoted wife of 62 years.]

Sunrise 03/12/13

Portland, Oregon

July 5, 2022

 

She was completely still and unblinking for at least 2 minutes before I decided to take the picture. The sound of the camera clicking ruined the moment.

Five years.

 

It was five years ago, to the very day, that Roderick Burgess had changed his own life. Changed his own destiny. Using the occult and esoteric knowledge gained from half a life time of study, he had finally managed to perform a ritual.

 

The Ritual.

 

He had summoned one of The Endless, beings of unfathomable power. The ritual itself had taken many days, and drained Burgess almost to the point of death itself. Fitting, since the dark rite had been intended to summon Death itself.

 

The plan, conceived through loss, heartache, alcohol and creeping insanity, was to force Death to bring back his firstborn and favourite son. His Randall. Just the thought of his son made Burgess sigh and hang his head, wishing things all those years ago had of gone differently. Back when Randall was still alive.

 

The ritual had been a success, in spite of his doubts. The Being had appeared, within the confines and wards he had carefully constructed, and Burgess had felt his heart leap, joyful at the thought of soon seeing his son again.

 

And then it had all started to go wrong. The Being, this creature, this thing of almost divine power, would not help him. Would not even speak, although it clearly understood speech. It did not even acknowledge the grief Burgess felt, the noble cause of his sacrifice, all for the life of another.

 

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, with the ritual wards ever harder to maintain, and Burgess was almost ready to give up, when a visitor arrived at his Manor. The Corinthian. Another learned man, Burgess thought, and a tarrying one. Like a nightmare made flesh. If only he knew how right he actually was.

 

The Corinthian had been kind, generous in his gifts of knowledge, imparting secrets of binding and holding, ways to trap this Being and keep him prisoner. These new earthly shackles worked perfectly, and Burgess knew the silent stranger would never get free. Not until the resurrection of Randall was complete.

 

And yet..

 

Five years had passed. Every day Burgess visited the chamber beneath his vast house, a house that grew, even as his own wealth and influence grew. Every day he would repeats his pleas, his reasons, his threats. And each day was met by that unblinking, black-eyed stare, and silence.

 

The past few weeks had seen Burgess experiment more with the relics that the Being had been summoned with. Relics the Corinthian had explained were powerful beyond imagining, capable of almost anything, but which could also warp and destroy any humans who tried to use them. Any humans. It was such an odd way of talking, on reflection.

 

At first Burgess was satisfied, keeping the relics locked away, content with the influence they were clearly having, with his fortunes waxing to ever increasing extents. But now he was tired of waiting. He had discovered that wearing the Helm, that dark, forbidding, skull like helm, somehow connected him with his own dreams. He could see them, crystal clear, all around him, even when he was awake. Wearing the jewel, the large Ruby that had been a round the being’s neck, made the dreams even more lifelike, he could hear the sounds of his dreams, hear people’s voices. And the Sand..ah, the sand. That small pouch of dark earth, that he had almost been ready to throw away..made the waking dreams so real. He could touch them, converse with them, influence them.

 

And of course, in these dreams, Randall was alive.

 

Today would be the day Randall came back. Burgess was tired of waiting, and deep down, knew that his prisoner would never cooperate, never help. He gathered up the relics, including the black, flowing robes that the Being had been wearing, and strode from the Manor and up the hill behind. At the top was a stone circle, ancient and weathered, old even when his ancestor had built the house all those years ago.

 

Burgess discarded his suit, pulling on the robes. Taking up the pouch of sand, he sprinkled a trail along each point of the star, watching it sparkle. He took up that sinister helm, settling it over his head with an involuntary shudder. Lastly, came the jewel, which he slipped around his neck and tied fast.

 

Burgess closed his eyes, took a deep breath, feeling the world around him shift and change. He opened his eyes, and stood looking directly into his dream.

 

The dream was always the same. He was on this very hill, the hill Randall had most liked to play on as a boy, and then most liked to study on, first as a young man, and later as a scholar. Randall was there now, sitting cross legged on the toppled stone, reading a book and eating an apple. Burgess smiled, unable to look away from his son, the best part of himself.

 

As the dream took hold, fuelled as it was by his own obsession, the relics of The Endless began to take hold. The form of Randall, at first a hazy shimmer, became solid, vital, casting a shadow in the afternoon sun, the smell aftershave fill the air. Burgess stepped closer, foot brushing through dry leaves, and Randall looked up, the sound audible even to a dream.

 

Randall smiled, breaking into that disarming smile Burgess remember, and jumped to his feet. The son he had mourned all these years was back, right in front of him, healthy and vital. Arms open, he moved to hug his son, feeling the warmth, the strength, and knew, just knew that his son was alive once more.

 

Burgess laughed in pleasure, smiling at his son. The fact his smile was concealed by a skull, he was clad in dark robes of unknown origin or wearing a pulsing red jewel seemed not to bother Randall at all. And so, Roderick ceased to let it bother him at all. In fact, nothing could bother him ever again, now his son was returned.

 

The dream son that was Randall smiled once more at his father. His father, the fanatic, the obsessed, the one who kept someone captive against their will for years, all in the belief it was for a good cause. Randall smiled, and beckoned, grabbing his father’s hand and starting to lead him around the top of the hill, just as they used to do years ago.

 

Burgess took the hand willingly, eyes on his son. Eyes that were clear, no longer dimmed by the Helm, for the helm was gone. As were the robes, and the jewel. All that was left was Roderick and Randall, talking and laughing as they used to, 30 years of suffering turned back in an instant. The hill was now just as they both remember and loved, the trees in full bloom, the grass sweet, the worn but sturdy fence around the south side, which fell away to a sheer drop. Burgess had always cautioned his son about playing there, lest he slip and fall into the ravine below. But with the fence there, newly installed when Randall turned 15, that would never happen.

 

Roderick Burgess again took his dead son’s hand for a moment, squeezing it and smiling as he looked up into the summer sky. Roderick leaned forward, totally happy in the moment, and placed both hands on the fence, leaning forward to bask in the joy of being alive, of Randall being alive.

 

His body was found 3 days later, crumpled and broken at the bottom of the hill, his limbs torn and gashed, but the black robe without a mark, the helm without a dent. The Ruby and pouch of sand were never seen again.

    

Name: Krahhu

Element: Iron

Primary Color: Gold

Tool: Spear-headed Mace

Mask: Unknown

In the depths of the caves within the region of earth, Krahhu guards the legendary Golden Mask of Earth. Like the vast supply of iron lying inside the caves, he waits patiently, unmoving, unblinking. He, if you can call Krahhu a "he" after having become nothing but a shell only striving to guard the mask, allows none to approach. Not even the protector's are allowed to draw near, lest he rises from his comatose state and moves the metals in the soil according to his will.

The world feels different when seen from another angle.

Eyes wide, unblinking, absorbing everything — not just the light, but the questions unspoken, the stories untold.

Here lies a quiet moment of stillness and curiosity, captured just before it slips away. The shadows cradle him like a secret, while his gaze dares you to stop, look closer, and wonder what he sees that you do not.

*Working Towards a Better World

 

The New York Times has an interesting article about this subject in their paper today:

"An unblinking Look at Sexual Assaults on Campus"

www.nytimes.com/2015/01/26/movies/the-hunting-ground-a-fi...

 

I feel that money speaks not the heart, no girl or woman should be raped, it is completely unacceptable. We CAN and we MUST stop this barbaric behavior!

 

Thank you for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day! xo❤️

The Buddha tree or Bodhi tree.

According to Buddhist texts the Buddha, after his Enlightenment, spent a whole week in front of the tree, standing with unblinking eyes, gazing at it with gratitude.

2019

His face seems familiar, but maybe that's what the creator wanted...

The Seated Man on Castleton Rigg, the North York Moors.

I put my face against

the horse's shoulder Boss

I breathed onto the frost

so white upon his coat

I saw the patch I left

a darker spot as dark

as darkness gets I let

the horse cut through the field

the spot was looking out

an empty eye unblinking

unblinking Boss which one

of us was that supposed

to be O was it you

so steady Boss or was

that patch of empty me

-----Maurice Manning

From the edges of silence, he watches, unblinking, unbound.

Yumi no Kage bends his synthetic bow, no breath, no mercy.

Distance offers no refuge.

In the age of steel lords, even the wind cannot hide you

 

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Shallan had never bothered imagining what Damnation might look like. Yet here she was. The land was made of a deep, glassy black stone. Kind of like obsidian, with a black sky overhead, a cold sun -if it could even be called that- hanging at the end of a roadway of clouds.

 

No, she wasn’t dead, this was Shadesmar.

 

Pattern stood beside her. His black cloak hung at the sides too stiffly. Above the rigid, high collar, where his head should be, was a large, floating symbol of twisted design full of impossible angles and geometries.

 

In front of her was a dark ocean of shifting glass beads, clattering against one another. With her freehand, Shallan retrieved a sphere from that sea of beads. She stared, unblinking into that black sphere. Understanding flooded her mind, she held a soul, the soul of a building. Each bead in that vast ocean was the soul of something from the over side. She clutched the sphere that was the soul of a building, and tried to make it move. It resisted. She further pressed her mind against it, and it still resisted.

 

"You could be a ship," she said

 

"I am a building," came the reply in her mind.

 

"A grand ship, with sails."

 

"I am a building."

 

--Paraphrased from Brandon Sanderson’s “Oathbringer”

November 2nd, 2008 - Chicago, United States

 

I always thought one of the things that made Grant Wood's "American Gothic" the masterpiece it undoubtedly is was the way the couple portrayed look not straight out at us, but slightly to one side, their expression wary, distrustful, suspicious. The object of their distrust is not specific, but general - they are suspicious of everything they do not know.

 

America's greatness has been built on the coexistence of conservative and progressive spirits, and the often creative tensions between the two. Somehow, in the really big moments, the right one of these two tendencies has more often than not prevailed. I hope with all my heart that tomorrow, the progressive ideal will win out.

 

Update (Nov 21st 2008) : This photograph is referenced in an eloquent and witty blog post here, which reveals, amongst other things, that Barack Obama actually refers to this painting in his book Dreams From My Father. I quote from the blogpost :

 

"[Obama] writes that American Gothic effectively evoked the world in which his grandparents grew up: “…a place where decency and endurance and the pioneer spirit were joined at the hip with conformity and suspicion and the potential for unblinking cruelty.” [...] He’s talking about the people who accepted their daughter’s marriage to a Kenyan man (in 1960); they loved and later helped raise the grandchild born from that marriage. And [he] credits them for instilling many of his most admirable traits."

 

An interesting alternative twist is put on the possible interpretation of this photograph in a post on Obama's conservativism on the blog Asymptotic Life. Is this not a painting, but a mirror ?

 

Please click here to view on black.

ELEPHANT PLAINS: Located in the Sabi Sand Game Reserve, neighbouring the Kruger National Park, the Elephant Plains Game Lodge promises a Big Five game viewing experience with high class luxurious and comfortable accommodation facilities. From rondavels to intimate honeymoon suites the lodge provides its guests with a vast range of options to choose from for their accommodation. Elephant Plains Game Lodge is famous for the enthralling Big Five game viewing where guests can avail two game drives a day. With amazing facilities like swimming pool, spa, gym, library, games room and much more; Elephant Plains Game Lodge serves the guests with one of the best accommodation services in South Africa. The lodge can accommodate up to 24 guests at a time and also offer wedding planning services for those who wish to celebrate the wedding in the wilderness of South Africa. www.elephantplains.co.za

KRUGER NATIONAL PARK is one of the largest game reserves in Africa. It covers an area of 19,485 km2 in the provinces of Limpopo and Mpumalanga in northeastern South Africa, and extends 360 km from north to south and 65 km from east to west. The administrative headquarters are in Skukuza. Areas of the park were first protected by the government of the South African Republic in 1898, and it became South Africa's first national park in 1926. To the west and south of the Kruger National Park are the two South African provinces of Limpopo and Mpumalanga. In the north is Zimbabwe, and to the east is Mozambique. It is now part of the Great Limpopo Transfrontier Park, a peace park that links Kruger National Park with the Gonarezhou National Park in Zimbabwe, and with the Limpopo National Park in Mozambique. The park is part of the Kruger to Canyons Biosphere an area designated by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) as an International Man and Biosphere Reserve (the "Biosphere"). The park has nine main gates allowing entrance to the different camps. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kruger_National_Park

SABI SAND: The Sabi Sand Game Reserve is situated in the southwestern corner of the world-renowned Kruger National Park in South Africa and consists of 65000 hectares. It is the most prestigious game reserve in South Africa and is famous for incredible leopard and lion sightings. www.sabisandsgamereserve.com

This is the second story round in a series that is a collaborative effort between me and a very good friend(and Muse) who wished to remain in the shadows.

 

Lucidity’s Penny Dreadful 2 The Emerald

 

First Part, Lucidity’s Perspective:

Lucidity looks down at the mysterious note clutched in her hand.

It had been delivered to her by a youth, who had said it had been given it to him to deliver specifically to her. No other information would he give up as to even the gender of the person who had paid him to do the task.

She had tipped him as he had unabashedly held up an empty palm before giving her the mysterious handwritten note he was firmly holding. Then he had darted off without looking back, disappearing into the crowd.

Very peculiar Lucidity thought as she watched the figure dashing off, taking a few minutes to ponder…

She had come here this evening to participate in this Church run charity casino being held in the basement of an old castle that had been converted to a B & B / Events centre.

It was a dress up affair, and Lucidity fell right into place with the ladies sporting their luxurious evening gowns and their men looking dapper in full tux attire. The jewels worn by the ladies dazzled as they moved about, playing the various games of chance, rings and bracelets flickering as they cast their money down.

Lucidity had dressed up also. She would have loved to have worn her red satin gown with her rubies. But her beautiful ruby necklace had been stolen by a mystery thief who had snuck into her bedroom, silent as a cat, and had spirited it away. So tonight she wore her green satin ballgown and her emeralds.

There was also a dance floor set up at one end, by the exits, with a band up on stage. Lucidity had been dancing with several of the men whom had signed her dance card. But had taken a breather and found herself at a table where a game of cards was taking place. She was watching the game when, with a tug at her satin gown, had turned and looked down at the young lad delivering to her the mysterious note she now held,

Lucidity decided to move off to a discreet cornet before reading the note.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Second Part: Another’s Perspective:

Arriving home from another long day of work, tired, from sleepless nights. She let herself into her small apartment. Grabbing a quick bite to eat, and a shower, thinking about settling upon her time worn brown leather couch to watch some re-runs.

Unable to stop yawning and unable to fight the weariness that settled upon her,

she decided to call it an early night, maybe tonight she would sleep, maybe she would have a peaceful and refreshing sleep. Stumbling into her room and turning off the lights she slipped under her covers, and was soon curled into a tight fetal position, fast asleep….

 

… Standing, stretching, smiling to herself, filled with vitality and energy. Her lips curled upwards into a smile and with emerald colored eyes glowing.

Looking down at the tangled sheets on the bed she laughed softly to herself. The night is young, the night has just begun.

 

Wondering at how people of social standing deemed it necessary to post their itinerary on social media, but thankful they did. Having discovered last night that a certain Lady was scheduled to go to a charity casino this very evening.

She had employed a messenger service to deliver a dictated note to the Lady during the event.

 

Stepping into the closet, she retrieved a few packages that had been carefully hidden the night before.

Quickly heading into the living room, applying light makeup, and swiftly dressing in the outfit she had acquired. A wonderfully silky little black dress and a white blouse. A tied black ribbon bow tie beneath her collar, and a old style Blackjack dealer’s cap.

Checking herself in the mirror, yes, perfect, she looked every bit the role of a casino dealer.

She was ready for a game of chance.

Off to the church, to see how the game might unfold

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Third Part: Lucidity’s Perspective:

Lucidity stared at the open letter for a few minutes, reading it over quite carefully. It sounded like a scavenger hunt.

It instructed her to go outside into the gardens at the stroke of eleven. Alone. Once there she was to find a bush of roses that surrounded a fountain adorned with a statue of an imp.

There she would find a second letter, with further instructions.

She looked around with curiosity, no one seemed to be paying attention to her, yet she had a nagging impression that the letter sender was there.

In the end her curiosity had beguiled her to the point that, after first deciding not to follow the notes rather intriguing directions, She had finally changed her mind and decided to slip away unnoticed and find the second letter.

She tried to remain calm, but her mind was going miles a minute as she tried to figure out what this was all about. She also admitted she had found it exciting, and rather scintillating.

She spent the remaining time at various tables, placing bets without any real feeing for the game.

One of the blackjack dealers, a pretty lady in a silky dress and blouse, had bumped into her and started a conversation, asking if Lucidity was having any luck.

Lucidity had answered that she had not as of yet but was hoping her luck may turn around later.

The dealer had winked at her, almost like she knew something, and told her that she was sure Lucidity’s luck would change.

Wit an hour to go, Lucidity hoped the charming dealer was right.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Fourth Part: Another’s Perspective:

Arriving at the church which was awash with soft lighting, the grounds speckled with lengths of dancing shadows.

She quickly slipped around to the back, locating the small fountain lit and radiating light from small diamonds of water that were tossed upwards by the arcing spray of water, there she placed a small package within the rose bush.

 

A silver flask around which was tied a golden necklace adorned with, the fire ruby she had acquired last night.

Wrapping the flask within a small sheet of parchment, upon which was written,

the second note that the Lady would read this very day.

 

“ Here is your hearts desire,

returned to you the ruby fire.

Now sip from the flask if you so dare,

to find your other desire, but have a care,

The nectar might be fire to your own hot flame, it may be that very spark,

or perhaps be a liquid from which you should refrain, cold, and full of menace dark.”

  

Smiles to her self, the Lady shall either sip and the game shall go on, or run away with her precious bauble. Wonders how she will choose.

 

Slipping in through the unlocked vestry door, she made her way down to the basement where the casino event was being held. Tuxedos and gowns, perfumes and laughter,

the patrons enjoying their evening and as is their nature giving forth generously to the games of chance, to help the less fortunate.

 

Glancing over she noticed the Lovely Lady, as always the center of attention of all about her. She appeared distracted and moved aimlessly from table to table.

Wondering if perhaps her distraction was caused by the first note she arranged to be delivered. Glancing at the clock, she noticed the time, thinking in about 60 minutes we shall see what path the Lady chooses.

 

Picking up a serving tray, she moved forward, gently bumping into the Lady from the side.

 

“ I am so very sorry, how clumsy of me. I do hope you are having good luck this evening.” She asked in a low voice, so that others might not hear.

 

“ Oh not so much as of yet, but I am hoping it shall change later” was the reply.

 

“ I am most certain it shall.” She nodded to the Lady and moved on , with a soft smile and a quick wink.

Watching the Lady’s eyebrows raise in brief puzzlement.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Fifth Part: Lucidity’s Perspective:

It was time, Time to head outside into the gardens as the mysterious letter she had been given had instructed her.

She was at a blackjack table and was so excited that she walked away before the dealer had dealt the second round. She had been dealt the Ace of clubs, which a friend had once told her meant Change of Luck. Not normally a superstitious sort, lucidity had seen this as an omen and had decided to leave on time or else risk jinxing things.

She walked through the crowded room, weaving in and out of the other partying guests.

She entered the hallway and gave herself a look as she swished by a floor length mirror. Her emeralds sparkled gaily, not quite as nice as her purloined rubies had, but still a wonderfully brite shimmer. She also loved the way her green gown flowed and swirled along her figure as she walked. It made her feel so very euphoric.

The hallway led to the side entrance, where the hedged in gardens were located. It was in the shape of a maze, with sitting benches ,flowers and fountains in each of the corners, and a large pavilion in the square centre.

No one had seen her leave, nor was there anyone outside around the garden. She had the whole place to herself, unless of course the letter writer was also out here, waiting?

Shivering with excitement at the thought of a mystery person playing this game she was in, Lucidity scurried out of the door and headed to the opening in the Hedged maze that served as both the exit and the entrance.

At the hedge opening was a stand that held maps if one did not wish to become lost. Lucidity grabbed one, and went inside, choosing the right-hand side to start.

It was a cool autumn evening, the stars were out, and a full moon illuminated the are with ample light for a night of exploring.

She reached the first corner, but the fountain in the centre was of a naked Greek Goddess pouring an urn.

Lucidity turned back and chose another right hand path leading further into the hedge. She paused, had that been a shadow moving? Or just her imagination.

Shrugging it off, Lucidity headed down the path. Soon, around a corner, she heard another fountain gurgling.

Turning the corner of the hedge path, she found herself in a rose garden, and there in the centre, was unmistakably the fountain mentioned in the letter.

Her heart pounding, Lucidity briskly walked up to it, skirting the benches and rose bushes.

She stopped as she saw something sparkling in the sprays of water from the fountain, lit up by a light.

She gasped, confounded by what she saw.

A note, a silver flask, and…. Her ruby necklace, the one that had been stolen from her beach cottage as she had slept.

She picked up the note with trembling hands, her rings flashing and sparkling, as she read the words written out in a very neat scroll.

“ Here is your hearts desire,

returned to you the ruby fire.

Now sip from the flask if you so dare,

to find your other desire, but have a care,

The nectar might be fire to your own hot flame, it may be that very spark,

or perhaps be a liquid from which you should refrain, cold, and full of menace dark.”

 

She laid the note down and picked up the flask with her necklace attached.

What game was being played, and what kind of challenge was this?

Letting the Ruby necklace dangle from her fingers, she uncorked the flask, taking a sniff.

It was not unpleasant, almost smelled like lilac and roses, with a hint of something, not bitter, but bold, definitely bold.

So what game is this, and Lucidity’s mind went to Alice and her wonderland. Had she gone into a rabbit hole of her own, and found a potion like Alice? Would it make her tall, small, sleepy?

I had better sit on a bench, Lucidity told herself, for she knew that her decision, despite the warnings in her head, had been made.

She swished to a nearby bench and straightening her gown, slipped upon its cold wrought iron seat.

Taking one look around, she lifted the flask, and quickly drank the contents…….

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Sixth Part: Another’s Perspective:

Watching as the sparkling fountain lights reflected from the tilting flask, watching the Lady's soft painted lips touched the opening, and her smooth throat move with the swallowing of it's contents.

"Oh my yes, the Lady takes the chance, sure of herself and her poise, and the walls she has built around herself. her protection, we shall she how her poise shelters her now." She whispers.

Waiting a few moments, eyes unblinking, her gaze taking in the Lady, as her head begins to nod, and she leans sideways on the wrought iron bench. Quickly slipping from the shadows and sliding onto the bench beside her. Wrapping an arm about, holding her upright. Arm gently wrapping around a bare shoulder, tender, comforting, like a lover's embrace. Her emerald eyes glowing in anticipation of the hours to come.

Places her lips against the ear of the Lady, and whispers.

"You can hear, you can feel, you can understand. Your movements are sluggish now, soon you will be unable to move. You will feel everything, you will hear my every word, but tomorrow, if tomorrow comes, this evening will seem like a dream, or a nightmare."

Stands and takes the Lady's arm, guiding her along the pathway to the front of the church, head tilting and laughing softly. Telling all they encounter, that her dear friend had perhaps a wee bit to much champagne, and that she was taking her home for the night.

Went to the white limosine parked out front, telling the driver to take them home. Giving him the Lady's address to her beach front home.

Upon arriving the driver so graciously offered to assist her with taking her friend inside, she thanked him most kindly, politely refusing the offered aid, reached into the Lady's purse and generously gave the driver a large tip, and added a bit more, for she could afford to be generous, with money not hers.

Guiding the Lady inside, she made their way to the bedroom, gently helped the Lady to lie on her back upon the bed, and opened the balconey doors to allow the night breeze to gently blow through.

" I hope you enjoyed the drive home, so scenic, so lovely, you were such a peaceful quiet travelling companion."

She smiled as she watched the Lady's eyes tracking her movements, muscles straing to try to move, her lips gently opening and closing as if trying to speak.

"Oh my dear, I am afriad you can not speak, this shall be mostly a one way conversation I am afraid, your eyelids will soon close, you will sooon stop struggling to move, you shall be powerless, defenceless, in fact you shall be no more than a living, breathing doll."

Wondering how the poised Lady was taking those words, if the chinks were forming, if the walls were crumbling, the mere theft of baubles might become the least of her concerns.

Strolling over she sat beside the Lady, balanced on the edge of the mattress. Reaching out while the Lady's eyes could still follow her movements, tenderly brushed back the long auburn hair from her face. With a gentle touch she began to remove the Lady's fashionable evening wear, sliding off the gown, slipping off her oh so fashionable heels, and pausing. Watching the eyes struggling to stay open, to stay focused on her. Her lips curling into a half smile, removed the rest of the evening's wear. The delicate under garments, laughing softly to herself as the skin rose in a wonderful pattern of goosebumps at the lightest touch of her fingertips upon smooth curves.

Then with an even more gentler touch, the ladies glittering emerald jewels were touched, lifted and then carefully slipped off and away from her comatose figure,…and added to the pile of her slinky clothes

 

" Mmmm, I wish you could tell me how you feel at this moment, your society standing can not give you fortitude now, your money can not buy you protection, your friends can not form a barrier against what is to come. I hope you are finding this experience enlightening."

 

As the Lady's eyelids closed she stood and walked over to the small knapsack she had carried with her this night, removing from it a few small implements and bottles. Oh what to do, what to do, so little time, so many possibilities.

Sitting back down beside the Lady, gazing at her crimson toned flesh of blushing skin and watching with amusement at the rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Almost able to see the soft smooth skin jump above the location of the rapidly breathing heart. With a soft touch placed her fingernail upon the throat of the Lady, then slowly drew it downwards, following a path along soft curves and valleys. Flesh reacting to it's touch. Scarlet tipped breast rising and stiffening at the gentle scrape of nail against flesh. Abdominal muscles dancing, involuntary movements, involuntary reactions, but so delightful.

Lowered her hand further, fingertips still softly stroking, touching, teasing.

Reached for her small gathering of tools, and selected a small pair of scissors. Raising them up to beside the Lady's head slowly opened and closed them, so that the Lady might hear.

" These are finest swiss scissors, blades like razors, so very sharp." She murmured.

Running a fingertips through the soft curls nestled between the Lady's thighs, she took the scissors, and began to cut and trim. Removing curls, reshaping the lovely patch, and admiring the creativity of her handiwork, creating a heart design. Taking another little bottle, adding some coloring to the remaining hairs, shading them a robust pink color.

Laughs softly to herself, imaging the Lady feeling, but not knowing.

Now perhaps a little discomfort, will unsettle her more. Taking another small tool from the bag, filling it with ink, and plugging it in. The sudden hum of motor and needles making it seem to very harsh and loud in the other wise quiet room.

Begins to trace and move the needles over a small patch of silky smooth skin, quick and sure with her touch. Soon the skin permanently marked with a small tattoo. The Lady now marked, scarred, she will always feel just a little possessed.

Eyes glowing, resists temptations, reaches out and taking a stiffened bud of flesh between thumb and finger gently tugs and pinches, imaging how that sensation must feel with out the abiltiy to see or move.

Glancing up at the lighting sky, sunrise shall happen soon. She must get home and into bed before the " Kitten" at home awakens to their shared existence.

" A shame our introduction was so brief. I hope it was as memorable for you as it will be for me."

Walks again to the Lady's purse, slips out the Ruby necklace and adds to it the emeralds, for after all they do so match her eyes. Paints her lips with fresh lip gloss, and leans down and places a kiss on the Lady's lower stomach, marking her once again.

" Was such a pleasure meeting your dear Lady, a shame I never even got your name from your lips, nor you mine. Though I am almost certain, you shall remember me."

Laughing, slips out the door, leaving the Lady unmoving and naked upon the bed ,and makes her way home, to get there before the sun fully rises.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

 

Seventh Part: Lucidity’s Perspective:

Lucidity awoke late the next morning in a sweat, groggy like she was experiencing a hangover, though she did not remember drinking. But she did remember the dream.

She now lay on the bed, keeping her eyes closed a s she basked in the last remnants of the dream she had been having.

It had been quite erotic, quite fulfilling as she had felt the prickling fingers from an unknown lady gently going over her figure. Almost had seemed so real it was surreal!

The dream began fading away, as they want to do, from her waking memory.

Lucidity gave an exquisite yawn, stretched and opening her eyes.

She blinked several times as she looked around the dimly lit room. Asking herself…

‘Where in bloody hell am I”

She realized that she was not at home in her bed, but in her bedroom at her oceanside weekend cottage. The balcony door was open and she could hear gulls shrieking and the waves crashing on the beach below.

“How did I get here?”

She tried to think, her mind going over last night’s events.

Then she gave a gasp, it was not all a dream.

For she had actually received a strange note, had gone into the garden, had found the flask and had drunk of its contents.

Lucidity sat up in bed, her sweaty figure slippery upon the red satin sheets.

She was naked, but yet could not remember undressing.

No, wait, she could remember a part of her dream where the mystery lady had undressed her, removed her emeralds ..

“Had that bit been real” lucidity questioned herself.

Then added…

“If so then…!”

She looked down between her legs. That bit had been real, the hair cutting, the new heart shaped tattoo….

“My jewels?” Lucidity uttered, remembering she had been wearing her emeralds.

Sliding out of bed she put on her black sating robe over her now cooling figure.

She looked around, failing to find her jewels. She opened her purse, the ruby necklace was not there. And her wallet had been opened, several notes had spilled out. But why were they not taken also, only her jewels had been.

Lucidity sat back down on the slippery satin sheets that covered her bed, and tried to remember.

Tried to figure out what she was feeling, that even though she had been robbed again by the same thief it would seem, she felt oddly at ease with it, like she had been lovingly been given something quite lovely in return for her loss….

“It was all very curious.” Lucidity murmured, remembering the lines from Alice I Wonderland…

 

To Be Continued

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

   

Done in Ai, Finalized in Photoshop

 

Inspired by and Reimagined

 

“Crowned in shadow, feared in silence.”

 

Centered in the ruins of an empire long erased, the lion reveals its true majesty — horns vast and cruel, mane rippling like a living nebula of violet fire. Its gaze is absolute judgment, unblinking, unwavering. The abyss bends to its will, purple constellations flickering like dying stars above. This is no beast, no guardian — this is the King of the Void.

 

Steel throats inhale the silent world.

Glass eyes wait, unblinking, for the fracture.

Every lens is a wound sharpened to witness.

Every shadow is a verdict.

Here, machinery dreams of ghosts; and Aeon Von Zark carves the real

one captured rupture at a time.

At the heart of a silent forest, the strange artifact stands, like a forgotten relic of a civilization that never was. Time seems to have halted around it, frozen in a mute anticipation.

 

Light fractures upon its surface, concentrated into a piercing halo—an unblinking eye staring into the unseen. This tangled ring of metal, rigid yet almost organic in its coils, evokes a mechanism from beyond, a sealed gateway between dimensions. It appears neither fully abandoned nor entirely functional—simply suspended, like an unfinished note in a symphony from another world.

 

The natural elements observe in quiet vigilance. The trees, silent witnesses to its intrusion, cast fractured shadows on the ground, as if the object distorts even the very weave of light itself. The wind does not stir. The air is dense, heavy with an inaudible resonance, as if matter itself holds its breath.

 

This anonymous monument holds a mystery, a question posed to the void. Its secret is impenetrable, and yet it seems to whisper to those who linger too long. Is it a key? A scar from an ancient fracture between the real and the unreal? A mere illusion woven from light and shadow?

 

The absence of human presence is striking. No footprints, no sign of passage—nothing to suggest interaction. As if this place belongs to no one, and yet demands the full attention of an unknown gaze.

 

A forgotten vestige of the future. A monument to a past that never was. A machine with no function, or a portal to the inexpressible.

I trained the unblinking eye of my old T2i on Congress Valley for this very long exposure from atop Yarnell Hill on the night of a full moon. In the distance the tiny town of Congress sleeps through the quiet night. To the north traffic makes its way up and down the hill on Arizona Route 89.

 

Daytime shot from about the same spot:

www.flickr.com/photos/woodbits/2198635679/in/album-721576...

After the beings had created Silmä, the gods and the world itself, they went back into the void they came from to observe their creations. It was universally agreed that none of them should intervene lest to upset the delicate balance.

 

(Then it all went to shit anyway when Hate and Cruelty decided to usurp. They also universally agreed not to speak of that again.)

 

As they had no true corporal form they tended to take on the forms they felt most comfortable with from day to day though most of them settled on one form over the millennia.

 

(Except the first being, it tended to just be a wisp of black smoke but quaintness was to be expected from beings as removed from earthly matters as the strived to be.)

 

The sixth being was the most uninterested one of them all. They had settled on a permanent form as the first of them all and since then hadn’t spoken a word nor opened their eyes. Only on its forehead a third eye appeared unblinking for the most part but gave no indication that it processed what it saw.

 

(They had simply put them in a bassinet where they laid motionless, drifting. Harbinger tended to take up residence right beside the bassinet when it took corporal form, an eternally grinning jester looking over the sleeping form, occasionally waving a chubby hand in front of the third eye as if to test what would happen.)

 

||

 

Have I recently mentioned that I got the best friends? Ara gifted me Barachiel's airbrush job as BDay present and omg?? He perf <3

 

The 'what is what'

DollChateau Williams (grey skin) with airbrushing by Ara

First shooting with a new model. Indoor shooting with differents background and "homemade" lamp! I liked the result. I didn't do a lot of editing, just a bit on the skin & the eyes.

How do you like the shot?

More shots in low key and high key are coming in the next few days !

 

Feel free to leave a comment/like and share my gallery !

 

Music to listen to : Mr Probz - Waves ( Robin Schultz Remix) : www.youtube.com/watch?v=6MH9qWemtPo

 

GHOST DATA - Become God

 

Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 6 - Finale

---------------------------------------------------------------

< Sound City, Volume 1 - Chapter 5

 

The suits alarms are ringing in her head like saws teeth chewing into her brain. That smell. Asphalt. Rain. The suits system flashed a prompt on her eyes HUD.

 

"Engage Overdrive+?"

 

She tries to reconcile the display. She tries to focus, only to remember that the HUD is in the eye. Her body is like lead. Even barely shifting takes every bit of effort she can muster.

 

Vinzer stomps closer. "Oh, hoho noooo way. We are /so/ not done yet." He pulls an extending baton from his belt.

 

What is this prompt? She tries to focus now on Vinzer. Five feet away? Four? She blinks. Closer now. The prompt blinks.

 

As Vinzer approaches his hand rears back, he's not trying to kill her. This is torture. His pace quickens, to make sure he gets his full force behind the blow. He takes aim at her kidney.

 

"ENGAGE."

 

His hand swings forward. She shifts her weight to face him and quickly extends her left leg upward as hard as she can. Vinzer stops abruptly, his hands trembling as they reach for his groin. A cherry stained grin covers her lips at feeling the crunch.

 

She rolls back. Guns. Find them. She sees one, pushed into the corner where the asphalt meets the sidewalk. Vinzer stumbles to reach for the shotgun he tossed aside earlier.

 

Like lightning, the servos whir in her VES Suit and she kicks the ground to slide to the sidewalk. The armor sparks and clangs on the pavement as she reaches for the pistol.

 

Vinzer is screaming as he moves quicker towards the weapon. His stomping only a tiny piece of his rage, surely.

 

She has it. She grips the pistol, lines up the sights, the shot flies wide. Vinzer reaches the shotgun, leaning down to grab it.

 

"Sh!t!" The pistol must have lost alignment in the scuffle. She ignores the sights. Hit. Right shoulder. Vinzer is shook, then turns screaming with the shotgun in his left hand. He fires. She springs up to a crouch away from the shot.

 

"STAY STILL SO I CAN KILL YOU." Vinzer has lost any form of composure he ever pretended to have. As if she would be that stupid. She aims for center mass. Stop him. The shot grazes his left thigh. He slams the shotgun into the wound in anger as he screams. "B1TCH!"

 

She's got it now. One more shot. She just needed to get a bead. Vinzer racks the shotgun one-handed. She's rushing him, head on. Low and fast. Just like he taught you. Vinzer tries to get a steady shot on her, but he can't get a lead on her. "STAY FNCKING STILL!"

 

The shotgun booms. Miss. Now is her chance. She slides to a stop, crouched with one leg extended. Just a few feet away now. Perfect. She steadies her shot with both hands. Just below the sternum, slightly to the left. At this angle... she can't miss.

 

Vinzer racks the shotgun again, he lines the barrel with her neck. There is no hesitation in the trigger pull.

 

Her body is tossed back. Like a battering ram to the chest. She managed to avoid taking the blast to her face, but a second shot that close... no time for that now. As the pistols final shell casing hits the ground she wonders: was her shot true?

 

Vinzer stands looking at the stain growing on his chest. He stumbles forward, gasping... relentless. He awkwardly racks the shotgun, his pace random as he stumbles towards her.

 

The suits alarms go wild, looping the same message on repeat.

 

"... SYSTEMS MALFUNCTIONING.

CEASE USE IMMEDIATELY AND SEEK EMERGENCY MEDICAL ATTENTION.

 

WARNING!

 

CRITICAL SYSTEMS FAILURE. ALL SYSTEMS MALFUNCTIONING.

CEASE USE..."

 

Her mask bubbles with the red fluid that's supposed to be inside her. "Deactivate emergency protocols. Authorization Jin.." She coughs heavily. "...rai" The suit grinds back to life.

 

Vinzer stands close, raising the shotgun to follow her as she stands up. He drools his words out. "SHTUPID B1SH..." The trigger slides back. Click.

 

She grabs the shotgun with her left hand, rotating it down as she grabs it with the other hand. She shoves the stock into his jaw with all her strength. Vinzers head snaps back like a whip. His knees hit the ground with a thud.

 

Without a moments hesitation, she reaches down as low as she can and sends an uppercut squarely on his chin. The force is so much that it sends him toppling back on the ground. Spitting up now, his speech is barely audible. "Ill be back, b1sh." His laugh is masochistic. "You can't kill me"

 

She stands over him. Her body is nothing but agony. Pieces of her suit crumble and fall to the ground. She lifts her heel directly over his face as high as she can and looks down at him. "I can try." Her foot slams down in a blur. Wet. Crunching. Visceral. Then... the clang of the armored heel hitting the pavement. She lifts her foot to reveal Vinzers scattered teeth. Perfectly white, perfectly fake, perfectly destroyed.

 

A shot of electricity jolts her body.

 

"OVERDRIVE+ DISENGAGED." The suit chirps.

 

Her eyes flutter back in their sockets and her eyelids twitch as her body goes rigid. Clang. The armor hits the ground. The rain splatters down on her unblinking and emotionless face, mask hanging loose. The rain pools and runs down her cheeks, weeping for her.

  

"So.... Where are we going?" He's holding her hand. Times like these remind her just how big he is. Her heart. It hasn't... She looks up at him, his eyes sparkling in the light.

 

"Don't you have someplace /you/ want to go?" She laughs.

 

"I sure do. I always do." He nods and squeezes her hand.

 

"So? Where do /you/ want to go?" She looks up at him excitedly.

 

"Wherever you want to go." He smirks.

 

She smiles wide, holds herself tight against his arm, and lays her head against him.

  

"Let's go home."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sound City Files, Volume 1 - EPILOGUE >

  

There's still more to tell... don't miss the incredible Epilogue!

 

❤️ Epi!

  

"Should I put it in my pocket?

Should I keep it on a leash?

Whatever I do it just wants to break free.

 

It's peering in a window with it's unblinking stare,

It's clearly fascinated with what goes on in there.

 

Should you wear a pirate's eyepatch to try and restrict it's reach?

Maybe we could distract it if I waved around this peach." ~ Savlonic

As a kibble of cat food flew past my head, I heard the scream Meow Meow Meow! (translation, You Don't Take Photo's Of Me Anymore! You Think I'm Ugly)

 

I do love you I replied in a soothing voice, and you're not ugly

 

Everything on the counter came crashing to the floor, Meow Meow Meow MEOW! (translation, You Think I'm Too Old and I have hair growing out of my ears!)

 

With a heavy sigh I replied, You look younger than ever sweetheart and you have Always had hair growing out of your ears.

 

The contents of the water dish, downed in one big gulp gets chucked at the unsuspecting wall where it clatters to the floor, MEOW MEOW MEOW!!! (Translation, You're Never Home Anymore, You Stay Out Late Walking The Dog, You Come Home Smelling Like A Stray and my CAT BOX HAS A CAKA POOEY IN IT AND IT'S BEEN THERE FOR TEN (censored) MINUTES!!!

 

After a short uncomfortable silence, I look at the cat staring at me with unblinking eyes, Your asleep when I'm home, we get home before dark, It's the neighbors dog and that CAKA POOEY has only been there for FIVE minutes.

 

With big blue eyes squinted down to slits, the cat looks at me, turns, saunters over to the bed, hops up, looks back at me again, continues on to where my pillow is, climbs on the pillow, looks at me once more then ... tail goes up, legs squat down ...

 

NOOOOOOOOOOO, I'm SORRY!!!! I'll TAKE MORE PHOTO'S OF YOU!

  

and that is why you get a photo of my cat Fuego today on Cliche Saturday.

 

View saying Sorry at the very beginning to avoid all this

 

for

Cliche Saturday HCS

because whats more cliche than one mad hairy little Flame Point Siamese cat with a tude! (OMG, I think he just read this over my shoulder. I heard the bedroom door slam and the words Meow Meow Meow (Translation, I hate you!)

-Good evening Gotham! Our top story tonight: GCPD has its hands full as a mysterious vigilante has been dispensing hard justice on Gotham criminals. Could this be the work of the supposed Batman? Or is this another crimefighter at work? We bring you-

 

-In the wake of the Blackgate riots not one year ago, dozens of escaped inmates have become inspired by their rescuers, and have started donning masked personas of their own. Though the majority of inmates are now back in custody, and awaiting transfer to Stryker's Island, Metropolis, police are still searching for the mastermind the media has branded "The Bloody Butterfly-"

 

-Jeremy Seinfeld's trial concluded today. The 38 year old calling himself Zodiac Master was arrested four months ago when he orchestrated the hijacking on flight-

 

-John Comet marks the fifth child to have gone missing in the past two days. The three year old was snatched from his bed between 6 and 7 pm. Commissioner Gordon has assured the families that their children *will* be found safely, warning the kidnappers that-

 

-After much hushed tones, The Falcone Construction company is proud to announce that Arkham Asylum will open it's doors to the public once more. The newly established warden, Charles Cavendish, has declared no case or ailment is too small to be treated and no families shall be ignored. Of course, skepticism is high, with the involvement of Carmine Falcone, not all changes are expected to be well received-

 

I shouldn't be here. Five children have disappeared, more have probably gone unreported but *Uhn* here I am. Martin Cole was the third victim, admitted to Gotham General yesterday to receive treatment for his hemophilia. Doctors described "A Ragdoll" crawling through the window, and taking the toddler while he slept. When I returned there to pick up any clues, this... Thing attacked me. One of Falcone's men? Or does he work for the kidnappers?

 

"Who are you? What do you know about the missing children?"

 

He's clad in black. Metal, blood soaked horns adorn his head. He doesn't speak, only growls. That's fine by me, because I'm wasting enough time. Have to end this. Fast.

 

"Penny One, tell me you have something on this monster"

 

Alfred- One moment sir.

 

Over Comms, at the Batcave, there's movement on the newly named Batcomputer.

 

Alfred- I'm afraid reports are scarce, Master Bruce, all I can find is a news report dating five years ago. "The Metalhead Murderer," they called him. He killed the Blüdhaven police chief, two of his captains, and then... Nothing. Vanished.

 

So our mystery man has a name...

 

"Metalhead, then. Falcone hire you to bring me in?"

 

MH- Wrong, Bat. Falcone may've wanted you alive. But my employer? *He* wants you dead.

 

Batman- Then he's going to be disappointed.

 

===The Gotham Sewer Systems===

 

Maxie Lloyd. Age two. Male. Catch of the day.

His captor whistles through crooked teeth, and, emerging from the broken pipes, a trail of rodents follow them dutifully. The toddler cries, of course- he's only human, but the rat-man, this sewer king, continues on his way, his soul filled with nothing more than general apathy. The Ratcatcher approaches what appears to be a dead end, only for him to locate a series of bricks in the wall, and clap them sequentially with his lantern. As if by some form of magic, dark magic, the wall gives way to the Ratcatcher's lair. Horrified by what he sees, little Maxie Lloyd lets out a shriek, only for it to be muffled by the Ratcatcher's rubber glove around his mouth. He may've learned to block out the screaming, but his rats haven't.

 

"Quiet."

 

Above them, are ten children, chained up along the walls. Puncture marks in their right arms denote where a needle has freshly pierced their skin. Along the walls are jars of spiders, snakes, snails, preserved in greenish liquids. The floors are littered with Ratcatcher's pets, feasting on victims from long ago. From his laboratory, a dark figure watches them, little more than unholy mass of rags and bones. Noticing him, The Ratcatcher mutters "Fresh meat" and hoists the child up for his inspection.

It's crying, the figure thinks. Why is it crying? Half the fun was finding out why. Hematophobia, fear of blood? Misophobia, fear of rats? Agoraphobia, fear of social embarrassment? Or... Yes, perhaps. Nick nack paddy wack, give the dog a bone.

 

"Yes, Mr Flannegan, this one will do nicely."

 

The figure leans over, locking eyes with his new patient. His eyes are red, red with a splash of yellow. His pupils are dilated, but he is unblinking. And he gives his diagnosis.

 

"Phobophobia. The fear, of fears. Oh, don't worry, child, it's only natural."

 

He leans over to the Ratcatcher, the man he called Flannegan, and whispers in his ear.

"I want him ready for the trials. Prepare test 01.11"

 

The screaming child is carried off, and the figure grins, a single candle illuminates his horrific visage, a visage that gives even Flannegan nightmares, let alone the children he's kidnapped. And with good reason, the figure laughed, after all, Formidophobia is remarkably common. The fear, of Scarecrows.

The eyes of the jury are fixed upon me..unblinking.

 

I am sort of tired of the way the front page of my stream is all Jamelah, all the time, so here... look at some windows.

 

Now I have to go take minutes at a meeting. You know, I would really like to get to a place in life where I don't have to take minutes at meetings anymore.

On the faded floor of the abandoned mansion lies a man — too still to be asleep, too perfect to be dead. He is young, heartbreakingly handsome, dressed immaculately in a U.S. Civil War cavalry uniform: tight blue breeches clinging to his sculpted legs, a dark shell jacket on a wide open chest, and tall black riding boots polished to a ghostly shine. His lips are parted as if whispering something long after the breath has gone.

 

In the hallways at the threshold, a figure stands in the shadows — tall, angular, and unblinking. A man in a long, black coat that absorbs the moonlight like velvet. His eyes shimmer like mercury. He watches the cavalryman with an intensity that borders on reverence… or hunger.

 

The stranger steps forward, his boots silent. As he kneels beside the prone man, he runs a gloved hand along the seam of the breeches. His hand lingers at the ridge of the breeches, then glides to the narrow waist, pressing gently — as if memorizing the contours of a body long lost to him. The air bends slightly around them, as if time is folding inward.

 

The Apparatus That Learned to Watch Itself Die

 

It stands where presence has been evacuated,

a spine of lenses and joints

assembled from the remains of intention.

 

No hand touches it now.

No eye commands it.

It observes by inertia,

records by ritual,

breathes through circuits that never believed in air.

 

This machine was not built to remember.

It was trained to persist.

 

Fog coils around it like obsolete data,

layers of erased weather looping in place.

The world fractures behind the glass,

not because it is broken; but because it refuses coherence.

 

The lens is a mouth that never speaks.

The tripod, a skeleton refusing collapse.

Each bolt is a vow made by engineers

who thought neutrality was possible.

 

Here, seeing is no longer an act.

It is a condition.

 

The apparatus does not capture reality; it stalls it.

Freezes the scream between frames,

holds time in a clenched mechanical jaw,

chews meaning into metadata dust.

 

This is not surveillance.

This is devotion.

 

A shrine erected to the myth

that observation absolves the observer.

 

But something has shifted.

 

The machine has begun to watch itself watching.

A recursion without exit.

An eye devouring its own reflection

until the image rots into pure signal.

 

It does not sleep.

It does not judge.

It does not forgive.

 

It waits.

 

For collapse to become legible.

For humanity to admit it outsourced its soul

to a witness that never blinked.

 

And when nothing remains to be recorded,

the apparatus will still be standing; faithful, immaculate,

filming the absence

like a final sacrament.

Traditional accounts say that, around 530 BCE, Gautama Buddha, wandering as a monk, reached the sylvan banks of Falgu River, near the city of Gaya, India.

There he sat in meditation under a peepul tree (Ficus religiosa or Sacred Fig), which later became known as the Bodhi tree.

According to Buddhist scriptures, after three days and three nights, Siddharta attained enlightenment and the answers that he had sought.

The Buddha then spent the succeeding seven weeks at seven different spots in the vicinity meditating and considering his experience.

Several specific places at the current Mahabodhi Temple relate to the traditions surrounding these seven weeks:

The first week was spent under the Bodhi tree.

During the second week, the Buddha remained standing and stared, uninterrupted, at the Bodhi tree.

This spot is marked by the Animeshlocha Stupa, that is, the unblinking stupa or shrine, which is located on the north-east of the Mahabodhi Temple complex.

There stands a statue of Buddha with his eyes fixed towards the Bodhi tree.

The Buddha is said to have walked back and forth between the location of the Animeshlocha Stupa and the Bodhi tree.

According to legend, lotus flowers sprung up along this route, it is now called Ratnachakarma or the jewel walk.

 

This picture is a close-up of a sculpture which is inside the Mahabodhi Temple complex which was built to mark that location in Bodh Gaya (बोधगया), in the Indian state of Bihar.

 

Join the photographer at www.facebook.com/laurent.goldstein.photography

 

© All photographs are copyrighted and all rights reserved.

Please do not use any photographs without permission (even for private use).

The use of any work without consent of the artist is PROHIBITED and will lead automatically to consequences.

. lo más terrible de la vida

es descubrir su ausencia / the most terrible thing about life

is finding it gone.

 

C. Bukowski

 

The Bronx. New York. August '09

 

View On Black

Toronto City Hall, seen behind the TORONTO 3D sign was taken at Nathan Phillips Square, Toronto.

 

" The Toronto City Hall, or New City Hall, is the seat of the municipal government of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, and one of the city's most distinctive landmarks. Designed by Finnish architect Viljo Revell and landscape architect Richard Strong, and engineered by Hannskarl Bandel, the building opened in 1965." - Wikipedia

 

" From the air, the building is seen as a giant unblinking eye, thus the building's original nickname of "The Eye of Government". When finished, the building generated widespread controversy among many who felt that it was "too futuristic" for the city."

  

‘Curious’ the Caucasian Squirrel - On a bright morning in the North Aegean, beneath a sky just cleared of rain clouds, I revisited the same mulberry tree where I had previously spotted a young Caucasian – Anatolian squirrel. I named it “Curious,” inspired by its bold, unblinking gaze.

 

No sooner had I arrived than I felt a pair of round black eyes fixed upon me from above. There it was — motionless, alert, and watching me. I smiled and whispered "Good morning" as I gently pressed the shutter. For a few minutes, we simply watched each other. Then, in a flash, it darted up the tree to resume its breakfast among the branches.

 

After half an hour, it descended swiftly to a century-old olive tree — its home — and paused on its favorite branch as if posing just for me.

 

I feel lucky and grateful to have shared this peaceful moment with such a graceful forest spirit. I hope to gain its trust for many more gentle encounters in the days ahead.

  

Anatolian Squirrel (Sciurus anomalus) – Distribution and Details in Turkey

The Anatolian squirrel (Sciurus anomalus), also known as the Caucasian squirrel or Persian squirrel, is a tree squirrel species native to parts of the Middle East. It is the only native squirrel species in Turkey and plays an important ecological role in forested habitats.

 

Distribution in Turkey

The Anatolian squirrel is widely distributed throughout much of western, central, and southern Turkey, particularly in the following regions:

 

Aegean Region: Olive groves, oak woodlands, and fig orchards (like those in Pelitköy) provide suitable habitat.

 

Marmara Region: Thrace and surrounding mixed forests.

 

Central Anatolia: Especially in forested and steppe transition zones.

 

Mediterranean Region: Taurus Mountains and surrounding coastal forests.

 

Eastern Black Sea foothills: Patchy populations, typically in deciduous and mixed forests.

 

They prefer forests with oak, pine, walnut, almond, fig, and mulberry trees — and are commonly spotted in traditional olive groves, especially where some natural tree cover is retained.

 

Habitat & Behavior

Arboreal (tree-dwelling), diurnal (active by day).

 

Solitary and territorial, though tolerant of other squirrels in rich feeding areas.

 

Nests in tree hollows or builds leaf nests high in the canopy.

 

Feeds on a variety of nuts, seeds, fruits, and tree buds, including figs, almonds, acorns, and mulberries.

 

In cultivated landscapes like olive groves, they adapt well if large trees are present. The presence of fig and mulberry trees near human settlements helps maintain stable populations.

 

Conservation Status & Threats

Currently classified as Least Concern (LC) on the IUCN Red List.

 

However, local population declines have been observed due to:

 

Habitat fragmentation (especially loss of old trees and tree hollows),

 

Agricultural expansion, and

 

Climate change impacts, particularly in southern and drier regions.

 

Monitoring efforts in Turkey are still limited, and there's a growing call among researchers and nature photographers for increased ecological surveys and community awareness programs.

 

Curiosity

The Anatolian squirrel has adapted well to traditional Turkish agroforestry landscapes. In mythology and folklore, squirrels are sometimes seen as guardians of trees, and this species continues to serve that symbolic role in Anatolia.

  

I've captured some unforgettable moments with my camera, and I hope you feel the same joy viewing these images as I did while shooting them.

 

Thank you so much for visiting my gallery, whether you leave a comment, add it to your favorites, or simply take a moment to look around. Your support means a lot to me, and I wish you good luck and beautiful light in all your endeavors.

 

© All rights belong to R.Ertuğ. Please refrain from using these images without my express written permission. If you are interested in purchasing or using them, feel free to contact me via Flickr mail.

 

Lens - hand held or Monopod and definitely SPORT VR on. Aperture is f5.6 full length.. All my images have been converted from RAW to JPEG.

 

I started using Nikon Cross-Body Strap or Monopod on long walks. Here is my Carbon Monopod details : Gitzo GM2542 Series 2 4S Carbon Monopod - Really Right Stuff MH-01 Monopod Head with Standard Lever - Really Right Stuff LCF-11 Replacement Foot for Nikon AF-S 500mm /5.6E PF Lense -

 

Your comments and criticism are very valuable.

 

Thanks for taking the time to stop by and explore :)

   

They walk on, wrapped in silence or stories, their paths crossing the frame like whispers.

Behind them, the face—larger than life, void of life.

It doesn’t watch.

It waits.

Not for someone in particular, but for anyone unaware enough to forget they’re being seen.

And in that split second, you realize:

you were never the observer.

Two empty benches, abandoned to the cold of the night, frame an anomaly born from the void. Where the world should be silent, it trembles with an impossible presence—a spectral mechanism embedded in the shadow of the vegetation. The illusion of an organic architecture, torn apart by light, pierces the scene with an ethereal breath.

 

The interwoven circles evoke an unblinking eye, an entity frozen in immobile contemplation. Its beams of light reveal nothing tangible but instead open invisible breaches, as if space itself were fractured, drawn into a temporal loop that defies all logic.

 

These benches, emptied of any presence, become the remnants of an endless wait. Who was meant to sit there? What encounter was left unfinished? Is this an intersection between two worlds, or the last witness of an irreversible erasure?

 

Where one expected refuge, only an erosion of matter remains—a trace of a presence that perhaps never existed.

"His name long since lost to time, the soldier still stands his post.

 

His unblinking eyes have seen the golden age of humanity and the end of their world as they knew it.

 

As the Earth reclaims the city he stands in, he refuses to falter standing watch on the land he fought to defend.

 

We must join him, humanity is on the brink. Besieged on all sides as the darkness comes to claim us all.

 

But we will stand defiant, unmoving and unblinking like the old soldier.

 

As humanity's Guardians on eternal watch"

 

This is kind of a proof of concept picture, at some point when the other Destiny figures come out I plan to try to build a small diorama around it.

 

My favorite parts of Destiny is the post collapse environments, seeing the earth take over humanity's old cities and the overall theme of hope despite it all, so long as people still take a stand humanity still has a chance, it's an old fashioned good vs evil story that I think we need right now.

Just when I think I will never ever take another shot of a garden lizard, I find one doing something so awesome it just has to be clicked.

 

Look at this guy here - he just lay there... languidly sprawled on the stalk of his choice, quietly watching us the entire time with his unblinking beady eye!

 

Creeeeeeepy! But Explored

1957 Oldsmobile Super 88, in total darkness at Big M Auto Dismantlers. This was mostly lit with a AA Maglite–from 3 directions, it's warm yellow-toned light enhancing the tones of the rust and dead leaves. I used a tiny bit of purple-gelled LED from the rear on the bumper and between the cars. 86-second exposure. Without the lighting I added, the frame would have been 100% black.

Ig

Somebody emailed me this picture a while ago, and soon after I heard the news that the conservationists in SW Brisbane had won their fight to preserve and protect a little pocket of bush wonderland from developers.

Hidden amidst the urban sprawl, away from the hustle and bustle of city life lies 200 hectares of secluded natural bushland and forest.

The locals treasure this place for a tranquil secluded walk or cycle, and they call it "Pooh's Corner"

 

www.couriermail.com.au/questnews/south/see-the-last-of-br...

……………………………………………………………………………

 

My little story of yesterday feels like it came out of Pooh Bear's collections.

A tiny turn of event that puts one offtrack from the usual quiet routine and gives one food for thought.

 

But one could read too much into these occasions I think… draw on insights, perhaps presume on a change in life direction ..

Just best to receive it as it is.

A little sparkle that just comes and goes.

The Tao of Pooh..

 

In short, came across a wild bunny in the park.

And I got to hold it.

( And for the wise guys out there, yes it was actually a hare.

I Choose To Call Them All Bunnies )

 

Afterwards as I sat cuddling Miss Woolly later on her sofa and looked up through the window at the moonless black night sky, the clouds had disappeared from that wild storm we had, and all the stars were twinkling so brightly .. something Pooh would enjoy ..

………………………………………………………………….

 

Which brings us to yesterday.

 

For some reason I was ahead of the Girlz in the park for a change, detoured towards a tall clump of stringy yellow wild flowers, stood there contemplating a photo possibility, though without the camera at that point, would bring it back tomorrow.

Risk in that, as quite often, they'd either be mown down or died off a bit by then..

 

Why did I look down? Just a habit in snake season, I s'pose.. a little patch of brown in the shadow of the scrub, with only a few inches growth of grass around it.. Perhaps thought it was a cow pat, to be avoided, it wasn't moving …

 

There he/she was, a pretty as a picture, a little bunny, nestled in the grass..

Well, ok, they are actually hares, but I Call Them All Bunnies ..

 

At first, thought it was dead… no movement at all, eyes were open, unblinking… didn't dash away..

Maybe died from fright of the thunder in the afternoon storm, soaked from the rain, out in the open.

 

There were habitat shelters feet away, so if it was alive, wouldn't he have hunkered down dry in these places ?

 

For a few seconds, I stood there, sadly pondering this sweet little guy and his short life… then there was a twitch of the nose !

…and another !

Was he injured? He still wasn't moving ..

And a credit to the Girlz, as they did obey when told not to come over..

 

Someone else would've walked on…

But I was stuck with doing nothing or something, and neither was comfortable.

 

If I just pick him up with bare hands, and look at him for injuries, like a broken leg or bite mark, would he bite me?

I had no idea. Do they carry horrendous germs that would give me yet another health challenge ?

 

Then what? I had no container to put him in either.

So back to the car and it started raining again, and off home drenched, to collect a few things.

If bunny wasn't there when I returned, that would be nature's answer for me. It meant he was fine.

 

On the way home to pick up a suitable travel container, gardening gloves and some doggy towels to line the container and one to wrap around him, I stopped at Marie's house to ask her advice.

 

Marie is a stout, pepper pot shaped lady, who surprises me, that she took on the commitment of wildlife carer, as she's obviously not in the best of physical health.

 

Had met her a few months ago on my previous mission, a rescue of a turtle dove, found on the road, not moving out of the way of cars, just sitting there.

 

He didn't struggle when I picked him up, so I thought, Oh, there Must be something wrong with him .. had a look and discovered a huge chunk of his chest missing down to the breast cartilage but smoothly healed over.

 

This wound had happened ages ago. A bite from a dog? It was too large for a little cat's mouth to do that. How did he survive !!!???

 

Rang the local vet and they gave me Marie's ph. no.

 

On arrival, Marie came outside to receive her new guest, and I opened the back car door, gently rolled back the cover, and what did I see, but the dove sitting on top of the basket, and in the next instance, flying past my head to the nearest telegraph pole.

 

My first reaction was to to laugh in embarrassment, that I'd assessed the situation so wrongly and wasted Marie's time and preparation.

Then laughed with relief .. said to Marie, I think this fella is going to be alright !

Marie wasn't fazed, smiled and said that these doves were surprisingly tough.

……………………………...

 

So here I was at Marie's door again, she was kind and helpful, also reminded me these little guys often do 'freeze' and pretend they're 'not there' if they're frightened, hoping to be undetected as I passed by.

 

As Marie herself stuck caring for the feathered variety, she referred me to Lorelle in another nearby street, as she was the 'furry' wildlife lady.

 

We agreed that BunBun might be ok and gone by the time I returned to the park…and that's what we hoped anyway..

 

Walked around the spot to find him again, couldn't see him in the dwindling light, thought, Good, that's my answer..

Was just leaving, and there he was, he hadn't moved.

 

Expected him to wriggle madly and spring out of my hands when I put the towel on him and picked him up, but he was so quiet and still.

Oh, this is not good, I thought..

 

Had a peek in amongst the towel, his face was nestled between front paws, he was adorable.

He didn't look sick nor distressed.

He looked relaxed.

He didn't look real.

Was I really holding a wild bunny?

 

Uncovered and had a quick look at his back half while his front half was still wrapped in the towel, and all looked normal.

No injuries. Perfect.

In fact, his little back legs, waved just a bit, to climb back into the warmth of the towel, as if to say, "Hey, I was comfy..all snuggled up like that.."

He wasn't a baby bun, but he wasn't an adult either.

 

This time I'd made sure there was a heavier cover on the travel box, so he couldn't get out while I was driving to Lorelle's.

 

With my terrible sense of humour, couldn't help thinking about the monster rabbit scene in Monty Python's "The Holy Grail", where this cute bunny flies around attacking the Knights of Ni..

Didn't want That happening in the car.

 

Anyway, had phoned Lorelle and she was waiting outside, holding a basket with a hinged lid and a bunny rug in it, all prepared.

Another wildlife carer with a big heart.

 

But did say for me not to be too hopeful, as it's common for them to freak out so badly and suddenly die just from the stress of human contact.

 

She also told me that these hares do not burrow, they live on top of the ground.

So what about that farmers' tale I been told about burrows ruining paddocks and injuring cows falling into holes ?

Must be another sort of hare..

 

It may have been that we stood chatting for a few minutes, making human noises, as he went to leap out of her arms when she had a look at his face.

When I held him so peacefully before, all was really quiet.

 

A little while later, still peeling off rain soaked clothes and drying wet dogs at home, Lorelle phoned to say she was releasing Bunny back in the same spot the same evening, as she was sure he was fine and he would want to feed at night.

 

Better to get them back to the natural as soon as possible, rather than keeping them, stressing them out unnecessarily and trying to hand feed them.

In fact, he'd just scampered across her kitchen floor quite well !

 

It did run through my silly head that I'd love to be a wildlife carer, ( and yes, I did impulsively offer volunteer assistance to Lorelle, but she didn't need any ) … and was this another turn in life's path to follow …

Or do I have a habit, that I rescue beings who are really okay …

 

At least Bun Bun got dry..

 

That's what Pooh would say, I think ..

 

Also learnt they're not territorial, so he might've moved on by now … but I still left half an apple out there tonight x

 

……………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Every photo walk is different - Young Fallow Deer in Morning Light - On the way home, it is never easy to predict what a Nikon Z8 memory card will carry. Sometimes you press the shutter within the first minutes and the card fills quickly; sometimes you wait patiently without taking a single frame, imagining the photograph long before it exists.

 

Wildlife follows its own rhythm — and occasionally, it takes you along with it.

 

This pre-Christmas morning at Bradgate Park began as the rising sun broke through dark, scattered clouds. As the light softened, the landscape slowly revealed itself. At times, gentle morning light becomes incredibly effective; at other moments, you work more technically, placing the strength of the light behind you and allowing experience to grow with every frame.

 

The first encounter came from the rocky hilltops: a young male fallow deer, standing still, looking directly into my lens with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Young Fallow Deer in Morning Light.”

 

After meeting two fellow photographer friends, I joined them along the River Lin, which flows through Bradgate Park in North Leicestershire. A small group of hinds crossed the river, resisting the powerful current — a moment of shared instinct and determination.

 

Later, while searching for Stonechat, as on previous visits, a herd of red deer appeared, spreading calmly across the greenery. The majestic stag once again became the natural favourite of our lenses, and I worked to capture several compelling poses from different angles under direct sunlight.

 

The Grey Heron ultimately defined the photograph of the day. Under clean, softly broken sunlight, framed against the River Lin, the scene felt complete.

 

After a 3.5-hour photo walk, as I returned to the car park, my favourite bird — the tiny Robin — seemed to offer a quiet farewell. Shot in direct sunlight, the background bokeh remained simple, while the feather details glowed beautifully. With the NIKKOR 500mm and 1.4x TC at ƒ/8.0, its poised and noble stance emerged clearly.

 

Good evening and thank you for looking.

 

Every photo walk is different - On the way home, it is never easy to predict what a Nikon Z8 memory card will carry. Sometimes you press the shutter within the first minutes and the card fills quickly; sometimes you wait patiently without taking a single frame, imagining the photograph long before it exists.

 

Wildlife follows its own rhythm — and occasionally, it takes you along with it.

 

This pre-Christmas morning at Bradgate Park began as the rising sun broke through dark, scattered clouds. As the light softened, the landscape slowly revealed itself. At times, gentle morning light becomes incredibly effective; at other moments, you work more technically, placing the strength of the light behind you and allowing experience to grow with every frame.

 

The first encounter came from the rocky hilltops: a young male fallow deer, standing still, looking directly into my lens with wide, unblinking eyes.

“Young Fallow Deer in Morning Light.”

 

After meeting two fellow photographer friends, I joined them along the River Lin, which flows through Bradgate Park in North Leicestershire. A small group of hinds crossed the river, resisting the powerful current — a moment of shared instinct and determination.

 

Later, while searching for Stonechat, as on previous visits, a herd of red deer appeared, spreading calmly across the greenery. The majestic stag once again became the natural favourite of our lenses, and I worked to capture several compelling poses from different angles under direct sunlight.

 

The Grey Heron ultimately defined the photograph of the day. Under clean, softly broken sunlight, framed against the River Lin, the scene felt complete.

 

After a 3.5-hour photo walk, as I returned to the car park, my favourite bird — the tiny Robin — seemed to offer a quiet farewell. Shot in direct sunlight, the background bokeh remained simple, while the feather details glowed beautifully. With the NIKKOR 500mm and 1.4x TC at ƒ/8.0, its poised and noble stance emerged clearly.

 

Good evening and thank you for looking.

 

I've captured some unforgettable moments with my camera, and I hope you feel the same joy viewing these images as I did while shooting them.

 

Thank you so much for visiting my gallery, whether you leave a comment, add it to your favorites, or simply take a moment to look around. Your support means a lot to me, and I wish you good luck and beautiful light in all your endeavors.

 

© All rights belong to R.Ertuğ. Please refrain from using these images without my express written permission. If you are interested in purchasing or using them, feel free to contact me via Flickr mail.

 

Lens - hand held or Monopod and definitely SPORT VR on. Aperture is f5.6 and full length. All my images have been converted from RAW to JPEG.

 

I started using Nikon Cross-Body Strap or Monopod on long walks. Here is my Carbon Monopod details : Gitzo GM2542 Series 2 4S Carbon Monopod - Really Right Stuff MH-01 Monopod Head with Standard Lever - Really Right Stuff LCF-11 Replacement Foot for Nikon AF-S 500mm /5.6E PF Lense -

 

Your comments and criticism are very valuable.

 

Thanks for taking the time to stop by and explore :)

 

Stare-Down, a show I curated at Revelry Gallery in Louisville's arts district, opened last night and runs through November 8. It is one of 65 photo shows taking part in the 2015 Louisville Photo Biennial. I chose the photos from a flickr group I started a few years ago called The Level Gaze.

 

Curator's Statement

 

It's rude to stare, we're told, but we all do it. The woman on the bus with the unusual scar holds our attention as long as we think that no one — especially the woman herself — catches us in the act. We track the approaching stranger and then avert our eyes when he gets close. We stare at the mirror, our selfies, our reflection in a plate glass window. And we gaze, rapturously, at the tube and the silver screen, immersing ourselves for hours at a time.

 

This exhibit, like the movies, invites your unblinking attention. And these captivating subjects will stare right back. They weren't chosen for their beauty (though some are quite beautiful). Despite their inscrutable gazes, they ask you into their lives — to wonder, to understand, to see them as they see themselves.

 

The 23 photographers in this show come from 11 nations, and their work represents a variety of photographic styles. As well as formal portraiture, you'll see street shooting (both indoors and out), environmental portraiture, and one self-portrait. Some were carefully composed; others were taken very quickly -- and expertly.

 

Photographers are incorrigible starers. Cameras give one license, after all. But sometimes photographers find themselves confronted with a penetrating gaze in return. Not a bad thing at all, as these photos attest.

 

Photographers in the show

 

Jorge Arteaga

Sergi Bernal

Michael Brohm

Mariano Del Valle

Andy Duncan

Mark Forman

Peter Gesierich

Dave Glass

Joey Harrison

Johan Jehlbo

Warren Kirk

Sara LaFleur-Vetter

Zun Lee

Dan Mitchell-Innes

Joyce Moore

Chris Moxey

Aslihan Mumcu

Chuck Patch

Mike Peters

Jack Radcliffe

Roland Ramanan

Michael Smith

Jonathan Steelandt

Pierre Wayser

 

Some advance press

 

My great thanks to the photographers who agreed to be in the show, to Mo Howe, for providing wall space and being such a good collaborator, and to Paul Paletti and his assistant Deena Fitzpatrick, for all they've done to make the Biennial so successful.

  

  

‘Curious’ the Caucasian Squirrel - On a bright morning in the North Aegean, beneath a sky just cleared of rain clouds, I revisited the same mulberry tree where I had previously spotted a young Caucasian – Anatolian squirrel. I named it “Curious,” inspired by its bold, unblinking gaze.

 

No sooner had I arrived than I felt a pair of round black eyes fixed upon me from above. There it was — motionless, alert, and watching me. I smiled and whispered "Good morning" as I gently pressed the shutter. For a few minutes, we simply watched each other. Then, in a flash, it darted up the tree to resume its breakfast among the branches.

 

After half an hour, it descended swiftly to a century-old olive tree — its home — and paused on its favorite branch as if posing just for me.

 

I feel lucky and grateful to have shared this peaceful moment with such a graceful forest spirit. I hope to gain its trust for many more gentle encounters in the days ahead.

  

Anatolian Squirrel (Sciurus anomalus) – Distribution and Details in Turkey

The Anatolian squirrel (Sciurus anomalus), also known as the Caucasian squirrel or Persian squirrel, is a tree squirrel species native to parts of the Middle East. It is the only native squirrel species in Turkey and plays an important ecological role in forested habitats.

 

Distribution in Turkey

The Anatolian squirrel is widely distributed throughout much of western, central, and southern Turkey, particularly in the following regions:

 

Aegean Region: Olive groves, oak woodlands, and fig orchards (like those in Pelitköy) provide suitable habitat.

 

Marmara Region: Thrace and surrounding mixed forests.

 

Central Anatolia: Especially in forested and steppe transition zones.

 

Mediterranean Region: Taurus Mountains and surrounding coastal forests.

 

Eastern Black Sea foothills: Patchy populations, typically in deciduous and mixed forests.

 

They prefer forests with oak, pine, walnut, almond, fig, and mulberry trees — and are commonly spotted in traditional olive groves, especially where some natural tree cover is retained.

 

Habitat & Behavior

Arboreal (tree-dwelling), diurnal (active by day).

 

Solitary and territorial, though tolerant of other squirrels in rich feeding areas.

 

Nests in tree hollows or builds leaf nests high in the canopy.

 

Feeds on a variety of nuts, seeds, fruits, and tree buds, including figs, almonds, acorns, and mulberries.

 

In cultivated landscapes like olive groves, they adapt well if large trees are present. The presence of fig and mulberry trees near human settlements helps maintain stable populations.

 

Conservation Status & Threats

Currently classified as Least Concern (LC) on the IUCN Red List.

 

However, local population declines have been observed due to:

 

Habitat fragmentation (especially loss of old trees and tree hollows),

 

Agricultural expansion, and

 

Climate change impacts, particularly in southern and drier regions.

 

Monitoring efforts in Turkey are still limited, and there's a growing call among researchers and nature photographers for increased ecological surveys and community awareness programs.

 

Curiosity

The Anatolian squirrel has adapted well to traditional Turkish agroforestry landscapes. In mythology and folklore, squirrels are sometimes seen as guardians of trees, and this species continues to serve that symbolic role in Anatolia.

  

I've captured some unforgettable moments with my camera, and I hope you feel the same joy viewing these images as I did while shooting them.

 

Thank you so much for visiting my gallery, whether you leave a comment, add it to your favorites, or simply take a moment to look around. Your support means a lot to me, and I wish you good luck and beautiful light in all your endeavors.

 

© All rights belong to R.Ertuğ. Please refrain from using these images without my express written permission. If you are interested in purchasing or using them, feel free to contact me via Flickr mail.

 

Lens - hand held or Monopod and definitely SPORT VR on. Aperture is f5.6 full length.. All my images have been converted from RAW to JPEG.

 

I started using Nikon Cross-Body Strap or Monopod on long walks. Here is my Carbon Monopod details : Gitzo GM2542 Series 2 4S Carbon Monopod - Really Right Stuff MH-01 Monopod Head with Standard Lever - Really Right Stuff LCF-11 Replacement Foot for Nikon AF-S 500mm /5.6E PF Lense -

 

Your comments and criticism are very valuable.

 

Thanks for taking the time to stop by and explore :)