View allAll Photos Tagged Unchanging
“what’s it all mean?” i asks Sam.
“in an ontological sense?” Sam replies,
as he plug-cuts a herring by biting its head off
and spitting it over the side of the boat into the water.
“sure,” i says,
as i wink over at Bud.
“well,” says Sam,
“if we avoid the pitfalls of eleatic monism
and stick with ontological pluralism,
we replace the idea of reality being unique and unchanging
with the idea of Becoming,
and we immediately arrive at
a more fundamental and elemental ontic plurality.”
“that right?” i says.
“eventually,” continues Sam,
“it was Avicenna, an Islamic philosopher,
who was the first to argue that existence is not a predicate,
that essence actually precedes existence, you know,
that existence, i.e., al-wujud,
when thought of in terms of necessity
would ontologically translate into
a notion of the Necessary-Existent-Due-to-Itself
i.e., wajib al-wujud bi-dhatihi,
which is without description or definition,
and particularly without quiddity or essence,
i.e., la mahiyya lahu.”
“sure, but is ‘the self,’” i says,
making quotation marks in the air with my fingers
and winking again over at Bud,
“something we can know with epistemological certainty?”
“ah, falling back to the old Cartesian Other argument
first formulated by Anselm of Canterbury,” Sam retorts.
“yeah,” Bud chimes in,
“piscor ergo sum.”
i look over at Bud, clench my fist
and make a pumping motion with my arm.
“what’s that mean?” i whisper over to Bud.
“i fish therefore i am,” he whispers back.
Sam stops cutting bait and looks at me and Bud.
“what it all means, you two assholes,
is that whether you’re chasing money, women or fish,
you gotta get up river before all the other sons of bitches.”
Another shot of the Old Lifeboat Station at Mumbles - taken during my last, of frequent, visits to Wales.
Given the unchanging conditions on the day, I opted to create the image in the same "high-key" style as the last picture I posted of this location...
A 10-stop filter served to flatten the sea completely, and I emphasised the mist in post editing to knock the distant land back for a minimal look.
The building's red roof and window frames add a splash of colour and interest to an otherwise calm, muted image.
Canon 6D MkII | 24-105mm lens at 24mm | ƒ/11 | 120 sec | ISO 100 | Lee Big Stopper & Soft Grad filters | Tripod | Taken 14-08-2019 at Mumbles
**Photos available to buy**
Or visit my Redbubble shop - www.redbubble.com/people/andrew-hocking
Copyright Andrew Hocking 2019
The Symposium (Ancient Greek: Συμπόσιον = drinking party ) is a philosophical text by Plato dated c. 385–370 B C E. It concerns itself at one level with the genesis,purpose and nature of Love.
“what if the man could see Beauty Itself, pure, unalloyed, stripped of mortality, and all its pollution, stains, and vanities, unchanging, divine,...the man becoming in that communion, the friend of God, himself immortal;...would that be a life to disregard ?”
” Is Love love of something,or of nothing ... ?
Plato, ~ The Symposium ~
~░H░A░P░P░Y░♥░2░0░1░5░!!░ Living is being happy ...
Why Thank You, my Friends for Comments & Faves ✿ ♡ ✿
PS : A Brand New Year & almost a week is already history … We count not months or years,but moments … ,on the edge of Time …
You all have an invitation to my 2015 Symposium,my friends !
I repeat my vow in unchanging colors of the ageless bamboo -
which still creates ten thousand generations of shadows. (Gyokuran, 11th century poet)
The 14th century Hokoku Temple in Kamakura is known as Takedera - the Bamboo Temple - because of this fabulous glade.
This shot - along with others of Takedera - is part of the japan 09 set.
Between going and staying the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.
All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.
Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.
The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.
I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.
The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause
Between Going And Staying
Octavio Paz
In these uncertain times it's sometimes nice to return to something that is stable and unchanging. This view from the summit of Scafell, looking east across Eskdale, hasn't seen much change since the last ice age, some 12-13000 years ago. It is difficult to see any trace of Man's activity on this landscape (the cairns on Bowfell's summit - left of centre - are too small for the resolution of the image).
What ever happens to Britain's future and it's place in the world in the next few months, the sun will still rise every day and views like this will never change
🔸◾️ F A L L E N ◾️🔸
With the hope that some of the mist forecast overnight would linger in a local wood until sunrise, my alarm was set to get me up at 5am. Yeah... that didn't happen! The hope for mist was just that, hope. And with an overcast morning forecast I knew I the light would be pretty much unchanging for a few hours. So I had a lie-in until 6.30
I'm not a fan of "popping greens" in spring woodland photography - yet I've found it tricky to control. While I've been furloughed, I've been steadily learning more about colour grading. A YouTude video by Nemanja Sekulic helped me with the principles of colour grading to darken & desaturate Spring woodland images. A photo I'll post later is much more exaggerated than this one.
I'd be keen to hear what you think! Is it too much, or too little (or is it the third bowl of porridge?!) 👇👇👇
This composition takes the eye down the trunk of a fallen tree. The foreground has a smattering of bluebells for a splash of colour.
The ISO had to be dialled up to 400 to quicken the shutter and freeze the leaves moving in the wind. I used a polarising filter to reduce glare from the leaves. In post, I colour graded and desaturated.
Canon 6D MkII | 24-105mm lens at 46mm | ƒ/11 | 1/5 sec | ISO 400 | Tripod | Polarising Filter | Taken 04-05-2020 at Bosahan Woods, Constantine
Copyright Andrew Hocking 2020
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging;
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging;
Not only green when summer's here,
But also when 'tis cold and drear.
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree!
Thy leaves are so unchanging!
There are painters who must,
having found the place, must,
repaint it, compelled to repeat it,
each a variant, yet always the same,
always different
I awake to a perspective that is wide,
always differentiated from the prior,
always almost similar, but never with
the same exactitude, differing attitude,
same longitude, identical latitude,
always different
horizon distanced, in all ways a view
encompassing, duality near, far distant,
harmoniously, eyes open, magnetized
to wake before 6am by the suns modesty,
first light, first clarity, a curtain risen, yet,
always different
am I so blessed or thus cursed, for the urge
to disclaim and ode, compose and thus self-
decompose, analyze, reflect, slice apart, needing
the comprehensive understanding this me/place
scripts the raw appreciation, daily differentiated
always the same
this peaceful venue seizures, chest calmly
pounding at the insistence it commands,
the price I must pay for the prize to praise,
to sing, weep, reward restful sleep with lyrics
eked out, pouring, unsustainable yet finished,
always different
a single May Iris, returns, born from a torrential,
thunder, lightning, sky mayhem, rises by a sundial
greets midst a planted clump, upright rises, lavender,
in a majestic solitary, absent but a day prior, yet mine eyes
failed to witness its discernible emerging birthing creation,
always different,
always the same
here, I am Iris too, always the same, a day aged,
but the differences minute but stolid actualized,
this overnight sensation, my body’s restoration,
what I visualize, indivisible, now visible, realized,
miracle of continuity, unchanging chained change,
always different ,
always the same
wonder, am I more blessed, or a s~lightly cursed being,
my breath restored, wet eyes full brimming, changed,
revived but always modified, a newer old man, whose
sum total always a different number, but in sequential,
compelled to confess, no understanding of this miracle,
always the same,
always different,
this daily visionary miracle
-Nat Lipstadt via hellopoetry
The oak tree hangs onto autumn colours. The evergreens are unchanging. And then the winter storm changes the landscape.
What is most needed today
(Arthur Pink, "Eternal Punishment")
It is the deepening conviction of the writer,
that what is most needed today, is a wide
proclamation of those truths which are the
least acceptable to the flesh.
What is needed today, is a scriptural setting
forth of the character of God—
His absolute sovereignty,
His ineffable holiness,
His inflexible justice,
His unchanging veracity.
What is needed today, is a scriptural setting
forth of the condition of the natural man—
his total depravity,
his spiritual insensibility,
his inveterate hostility to God,
the fact that he is "condemned already"
and that the wrath of a sin-hating God
is even now abiding upon him!
What is needed today, is a scriptural setting
forth of the alarming danger which sinners
are in—the indescribably awful doom which
awaits them, the fact that if they follow their
present course only a little further—they shall
most certainly suffer the due penalty of their
iniquities!
What is needed today, is a scriptural setting
forth of the nature of that dreadful punishment
which awaits the lost—
the awfulness of it,
the hopelessness of it,
the unendurableness of it,
the endlessness of it!
Excepting the Cross of Christ, nothing else
so manifests the heinousness of sin—as the
doctrine of eternal punishment.
It is just because these truths have been
withheld so much from public ministry to
the saints—that we now find so many
backboneless, sentimental, lop-sided
Christians in our assemblies!
A clearer vision of the awe-inspiring attributes
of God—would banish much of our levity and
irreverence.
A better understanding of our depravity by
nature—would humble us, and make us see
our deep need of using the appointed means
of grace.
A facing of the alarming danger of the lost
sinner—would cause us to "consider our ways"
and make us more diligent to make our "calling
and election sure."
A realization of the unspeakable misery which
awaits the lost (and which each of us fully merited)
would immeasurably deepen our gratitude, and bring
us to thank God more fervently—that we have been
snatched as brands from the burning, and delivered
from the wrath to come! It would also make us far
more earnest in our prayers—as we supplicate God
on behalf of the unsaved.
Por favor, no use esta imagen en su web, blogs u otros medios sin mi permiso explícito. © Todos los derechos reservado.
El Real Señorío de Molina fue un señorío jurisdiccional medieval en España establecido en torno a la villa de Molina de Aragón, en la actual provincia de Guadalajara. Fue fundado como señorío independiente entre los reinos de Castilla y de Aragón por Manrique Pérez de Lara. Desde 1321 el título de Señor de Molina quedó ligado los de Rey de Castilla, primero, y Rey de España, después. Mantuvo el fuero casi invariado desde su fundación hasta su abolición en 1813 y tuvo una división administrativa similar a la de las comunidades de villa y tierra.
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Real de Molina was a medieval manor court in Spain established around the town of Molina de Aragon, in the province of Guadalajara. It was founded as an independent dominion between the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon Perez Manrique de Lara. Since 1321 the title of Lord of Molina was bound the King of Castile, first, and King of Spain, later. Remained almost unchanged immunity from its foundation until its abolition in 1813 and was an administrative division similar to that of village communities and land.
Más Información / More Information: es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Real_Señor%C3%ADo_de_Molina
There are worlds beneath our world
And deep beneath the skin
We always peel the layers back again
We peel the layers back again...
I'm so bored of being stuck at home -- seeing and doing the same things everyday is just absurd for me! I don't feel like I'm living my life at all. I've always wanted to travel somewhere. No, not malls or anything. I just need a getaway to some new place. But, believe me, trying to break out from the unchanging routine of the caging life is hard.
Holy fuuu. +8000 stream views!
For my friend NatuurfotoRien/Rien in Holland, who loves corvids.
I had this odd notion that when I retire I would carve a totem pole, and so over the years, I learned more and more about northwest coast art, culture, and carving. One of the pieces I studied was this - a huge cedar sculpture carved by the great sculptor, Bill Reid, to whom the telling of this ancient story is credited.
Bill Reid was a Haida indian (Haida is their word for “human”). The Haida tribe lives in the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of northern Canada (below Alaska), in a special place they call Haida Gwaii. Bill is widely credited for reviving the arts of the northwest coast - he was an amazing sculptor. I am disappointed I will never meet him.
The northwest coast tribes have many gods - all animals. Raven is the Haida equivalent of “fox”. Tricky, playful, smart, inquisitive - these are all qualities of Raven, whose play and trickery created the stars in the sky, the sun, the ocean and man.
The man-size (literally) sculpture is inside the University of British Columbia museum in Vancouver, Canada. When it was installed, Bill had the children of Haida Gwaii come to the installation - each with bottles of sand from the beach at Haida Gwaii, so Raven, could be installed in his native soil.
Here is his telling of their genesis myth - one of the most sacred stories in Haida culture:
The Story of the Raven Creating Man by Bill Reid
The great flood which had covered the earth for so long had receded, and even the thin strip of sand now called Rose Spit, stretching north from Naikun village lay dry. The Raven had flown there to gorge himself on the delicacies left by the receding water, so for once he wasn't hungry. But his other appetites - lust, curiosity and the unquenchable itch to meddle and provoke things, to play tricks on the world and its creatures - these remained unsatisfied.
He had recently stolen the light from the old man who kept it hidden in a box in his house in the middle of the darkness, and had scattered it throughout the sky. The new light spattered the night with stars and waxed and wane in the shape of the moon. And it dazzled the day with a single bright shining which lit up the long beach that curved from the spit beneath Raven's feet westward as far as Tao Hill. Pretty as it was, it looked lifeless and so to the Raven quite boring. He gave a great sigh, crossed his wings behind his back and walked along the sand, his shiny head cocked, his sharp eyes and ears alert for any unusual sight or sound. Then taking to the air, he called petulantly out to the empty sky. To his delight, he heard an answering cry - or to describe it more closely, a muffled squeak.
At first he saw nothing, but as he scanned the beach again, a white flash caught his eye, and when he landed he found at his feet, buried in the sand, a gigantic clamshell. When he looked more closely still, he saw that the shell was full of little creatures cowering in terror of his enormous shadow.
Well, here was something to break the monotony of his day. But nothing was going to happen as long as the tiny things stayed in the shell, and they certainly weren't coming out in their present terrified state. So the Raven leaned his great head close to the shell, and with the smooth trickster's tongue that had got him into and out of so many misadventures during his troubled and troublesome existence, he coaxed and cajoled and coerced the little creatures to come out and play in his wonderful, shiny new world. As you know the Raven speaks in two voices, one harsh and strident, and the other, which he used now, a seductive bell-like croon which seems to come from the depths of the sea, or out of the cave where the winds are born. It is an irresistible sound, one of the loveliest sounds in the world. So it wasn't long before one and then another of the little shell-dwellers timidly emerged. Some of them immediately scurried back when they saw the immensity of the sea and the sky, and the overwhelming blackness of the Raven. But eventually curiosity overcame caution and all of them had crept or scrambled out. Very strange creatures they were: two-legged like the Raven, but there the resemblance ended. They had no glossy feathers, no thrusting beak. Their skin was pale, and they were naked except for the long black hair on their round, flat-featured heads. Instead of strong wings, they had thin stick-like appendages that waved, and fluttered constantly. They were the original Haidas, the first humans.
For a long time the Raven amused himself with his new playthings, watching them as they explored their much expanded-world. Sometimes they helped one another in their new discoveries. Just as often, they squabbled over some novelty they found on the beach. And the Raven taught them some clever tricks, at which they proved remarkably adept. But the Raven's attention span was brief, and he grew tired of his small companions. For one thing, they were all males. He had looked up and down the beach for female creatures, hoping to make the game more interesting, but females were nowhere to be found. He was about to shove the now tired, demanding and quite annoying little creatures back into their shell and forget about them when suddenly - as happens so often with the Raven - he had an idea.
He picked up the men, and in spite of their struggles and cries of fright he put them on his broad back, where they hid themselves among his feathers. Then the Raven spread his wings and flew to North Island. the tide was low, and the rocks, as he had expected, were covered with those large but soft-lipped molluscs known as red chitons. The Raven shook himself gently, and the men slid down his back to the sand. The he flew to the rock and with his strong beak pried a chiton from its surface.
Now, if any of you have ever examined the underside of a chiton, you may begin to understand what the Raven had in his libidinous, devious mind. He threw back his head and flung the chiton at the nearest of the men. His aim was as unerring as only a great magician's can be, and the chiton found its mark in the delicate groin of the startled, shell-born creature. There the chiton attached itself firmly. Then as sudden as spray hitting the rocks from a breaking wave, a shower of chitons broke over the wide-eyed humans, as each of the open-mouthed shellfish flew inexorably to its target.
Nothing quite like this had ever happened to the men. They had never dreamed of such a thing during their long stay in the clamshell. They were astounded, embarrassed, confused by a rush of new emotions and sensations. They shuffled and squirmed, uncertain whether it was pleasure or pain they were experiencing. They threw themselves down on the beach, where a great storm seemed to break over them, followed just as suddenly by a profound calm. One by one the chitons dropped off. The men staggered to their feet and headed slowly down the beach, followed by the raucous laughter of the Raven, echoing all the way to the great island to the north which we now call Prince of Wales.
That first troop of male humans soon disappeared behind the nearest headland, passing out of the games of the Raven and the story of humankind. Whether they found their way back to the shell, or lived out their lives elsewhere, or perished in the strange environment in which they found themselves, nobody remembers, and perhaps nobody cares. They had played their roles and gone their way.
Meanwhile the chitons had made their way back to the rock, where they attached themselves as before. But they too had been changed. As high tide followed low and the great storms of winter gave way to the softer rains and warm sun of spring, the chitons grew and grew, many times larger than their kind had ever been before. Their jointed shells seemed about to fly apart from the enormous pressure within them. And one day a huge wave swept over the rock, tore them from their footholds and carried them back to the beach. As the water receded and the warm sun dried the sand, a great stirring began among the chitons. From each emerged a brown skinned, black-haired human. This time there were both males and females among them, and the Raven could begin his greatest game: the one that still goes on.
They were no timid shell-dwellers these, but children of the wild coast, born between the sea and land, challenging the strength of the stormy North Pacific and wresting from it rich livelihood. Their descendants built on its beaches the strong, beautiful homes of the Haidas and embellished them with the powerful heraldic carvings that told of the legendary beginnings of great families, all the heros and heroines and the gallant beasts and monsters who shaped their world and their destinies. For many generations they grew and flourished, built and created, fought and destroyed, living according to the changing seasons and the unchanging rituals of their rich and complex lives.
It's nearly over now. Most of the villages are abandoned, and those which have not entirely vanished lie in ruins. The people who remain are changed. The sea has lost much of its richness, and great areas of land itself lie in waste. Perhaps it's time the Raven started looking for another clamshell.
Three vessels to be seen daily on the River Thames, from Gordon Promenade, Gravesend.
Three Daws is used/owned by Gravesend Rowing Club, a short distance up river at the west end of the Promenade (Gravesend Sailing Club is at the other end...) and was in use on Sunday. I don't know anything about Noah II; it is there, like the mountain, unchanging.
Southwark is a Port Of London patrol vessel, one of 4, all named after districts/places in London: they patrol between Putney Bridge and the North Sea - 60 miles of river, which is quite a lot in technical terms. Southwark and Kew seem to be the most regularly seen at this point.
[DSC_8701a]
Title: Morning Beach
(Shot with FUJIFILM GFX50R)
Hawaii. United States. 2019. … 2 / 8
(Today’s photo. Previously unreleased.)
My new novel.
B♭ (B-flat)
I'm releasing it. This will truly be the last time I share it.
I won't release any more after this.
It's just a rough draft from the beginning — more like notes.
If you're interested, please give it a read. :)
The setting is New York.
僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
公開します。これで本当に最後の公開です。
これ以上は公開しません。
冒頭からの走り書きです。メモ程度です。
よかったら読んでください。:)
舞台はニューヨークです。
Images.
Bryony Jarman-Pinto … Water Come
youtu.be/z1ZAkZ5bSLs?si=56ao-cHyPzpnDsgp
::Photo Music and iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/photo-music/pl.u-Eg8qefpy8Xz
_________________________________
_________________________________
B♭ (B-Flat)
Further excerpt released. Just a rough draft from the beginning. Like a note. Please read if you'd like. :)
Setting: New York City.
Red, Yellow, Blue——
It was just past 7 p.m. when a light drizzle began to fall on East 52nd Street.
Anaya Patel leaned against the wall of the building next to Tot Ramen, where she was supposed to meet someone, and absently stared at the traffic light at the intersection to her right.
It was already July, yet the summer felt cooler than last year’s. She regretted stepping out in just a T-shirt.
When the light turned green, Anaya squinted, narrowing her gaze.
Kana, her old classmate, was waving and smiling as she ran toward her——
The flat ceiling of Madison Square Garden seemed to bulge slightly with the heat of the crowd, or so it appeared to Jack.
Cheers welcoming the presidential candidate clashed with shouts of outrage, rattling deep inside his ears.
Jack scanned the arena quickly before glancing back down at his iPhone. Several social media apps were open at once, and furious posts streamed across the screen.
One post in the bottom right corner—on Meta—caught his eye.
A death threat.
Presidential candidate Justin Bradford was about to take the stage with his fiancée, Eleanor Blake.
As a red spotlight—the color of the Republican Party—lit up the center of the stage, the couple stepped out.
And at that exact moment, a gunshot rang out.
It was subtle enough to be missed at first—but Jack heard it. Two shots.
As chaos erupted around him, Jack quietly closed his eyes, picturing the trajectory.
The first bullet—likely from his right, near the PA system. But that area should have been covered by agents from his own unit.
He calculated the second shot. It probably came from the left side of the stage.
It was aimed with precision, taking into account the positioning of both Justin and Eleanor.
There might have been a leak.
Then came a second report.
His colleague Ben Holloway’s voice, calm as ever.
The heart was missed, but both bullets had hit. One had grazed it and lodged in the epigastric area, just under the diaphragm.
Jack replied, equally calm.
“Justin’s Bombay blood. I confirmed it three days ago with Bellevue Hospital. They have reserves stored.”
Ben responded in a low voice, as if nothing had happened.
“Understood.”
Justin was rushed to Bellevue, the closest hospital to Madison Square Garden.
Jack called Elijah Kane directly from his smartphone.
Using WhatsApp or any other messaging app was strictly forbidden in the Secret Service.
Elijah answered before the first ring ended.
“Jack, it’s bad. We don’t have it. No Bombay blood.”
Jack was stunned.
“I confirmed it three days ago. I spoke directly to the person in charge—can't recall their name—but I saw the blood bags myself.”
After a pause, Elijah replied.
“That person died in a car accident yesterday.”
Anaya Patel waited for her husband Arjun at Tot Ramen.
With her was Mika (Sato), her best friend since college—Japanese.
Just as the server placed a steaming bowl of ramen in front of her, Anaya’s phone rang.
The caller ID said Bellevue Hospital.
She answered without hesitation.
Mika looked on, concerned.
“Is this Anaya Patel? I’m Sasha Wilson from Emergency.
You may have heard—Republican presidential candidate has been shot.
We need your blood.
Stay where you are. A Secret Service vehicle is en route.”
Following Mika’s gaze, Anaya turned to the display above the counter.
A live report from MSG was playing.
Then, a man in a sleek blue suit with brown skin approached her.
“I’m Rohan Shah, Secret Service.
Please come with me to the hospital.
The car is ready.”
He reached for her hand with urgency.
Just then, Anaya’s iPhone buzzed again. An unfamiliar number.
She tapped it.
“Hello?”
“Anaya Patel?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Jack. Jack Vance. Secret Service. I’ll be there shortly.”
“How do you know where I am?”
“We’re professionals. We have our ways.”
“But the Secret Service guy is already here.”
“No—he’s not!” Jack’s voice roared through the phone.
At that instant, the man in front of her pulled a rifle from under his jacket and aimed it at her forehead.
A small gunshot rang through the restaurant.
Anaya froze.
She couldn’t speak.
As the man collapsed to the floor, another figure emerged—also pointing a gun at her.
It was her husband, Arjun.
“Freeze! FBI!”
NYPD officers in uniform and FBI agents in gray suits stormed in.
“Hands behind your head! Get down on the floor!”
The cliché movie-like commands rang out as Anaya trembled. Mika, too.
But probably no one shook more than Arjun.
Jack arrived moments later.
“Anaya Patel!”
Still trembling, Anaya answered without looking up.
“That’s me.”
Jack, drenched in sweat, pulled her upright.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
A message from Elijah arrived with a link.
Jack, now in the passenger seat with Anaya, tossed her his iPhone.
“Open it!”
She tapped it—it appeared to be a livestream.
“Good evening, New York. And Los Angeles.
My name is Zakaria Haddad.
That’s my real name.
A few years ago, I lived in Gaza.
Now I’m in a room that mimics one you know very well.”
A man with brown skin and a beard sat in what looked almost exactly like the Oval Office.
He looked at his watch, then back at the camera.
“It’s time for breaking news.
Keep your eyes on your phones.”
Just then, an alert popped up:
BREAKING: Former Democratic President Owen Reed reportedly shot at the Los Angeles Convention Center
Zakaria bowed his head slightly and chuckled.
“A sad headline, isn’t it?
But don’t be sad, America.
In Gaza, we endured 55,000 times worse.
We lost more than 55,000 loved ones.
We wept—endlessly.”
Still looking down, he clenched his fists and slammed the desk.
When he looked up, tears glistened in his eyes.
“We do not seek money.
Nor honor through death.
All we want—
are tears.
Tears equal to the ones we shed.
Only those tears can heal us.”
Placing both elbows on the desk and clasping his hands, Zakaria gently rested his chin on them. He closed his eyes, and a heavy silence filled the room. The corners of his eyes seemed to tremble ever so slightly. Then, slowly, he began to speak.
“I am just one among fifty-five thousand. Even if I disappear, the will of fifty thousand others will remain—unchanging, undying, carried forward. I am here to give voice to that will.”
Zakaria opened the desk drawer, took out a Glock 17, and slid the action, chambering a round. He raised the gun to his temple.
A Sunni Muslim, he looked straight into the camera and spoke with a hint of sarcasm.
“God bless you. America.”
Zakaria closed his eyes and pulled the trigger straight back. A dry crack echoed through the room.
The screen cut to black in an instant.
To be continued...
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Exhibition in 2025
Theme
The Nightfly
My next novel, B♭
This exhibition will reflect its imagery.
A portion of the novel will be excerpted and shared publicly.
Images
Taylor Swift – This Love [Japanese Translation]
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=Y2g0HzhoVjnR46zS
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
Organizer
Design Festa
Venue
Tokyo Big Sight
Date
Fall 2025
Contact
exhibition.mitsushiro.nakagawa@gmail.com
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“A.I. - About Apple’s Identity”
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54271473379/in/dateposted...
---
### Will Apple Listen to Mark Zuckerberg’s Criticism?
I Don’t Think So—At Least Not for Someone Enchanted by the Apple Vision Pro.
Mark Zuckerberg, CEO of Meta, recently appeared on a well-known podcast, where he criticized Apple for failing to release an innovative product since the iPhone and for experiencing a decline in sales.
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:
Photo Music and iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/photo-music/pl.u-Eg8qefpy8Xz
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消えた境界線から生まれたもの ～ 去ってゆく川村記念美術館を振り返って ～
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54020588671/in/dateposted...
What Emerged from the Vanishing Boundaries~ Reflecting on the Departing Kawamura Memorial Museum ~
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54020588671/in/dateposted...
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8mm film of our honeymoon resurrected after decades.
youtu.be/zH-dG7bMeL4?si=yLF5_f1m-LhAVdPp
We found the 8mm film of our honeymoon for the first time in decades, and burned it onto a DVD.
On June 6, 1993, we got married, and headed straight to Nassau, Bahamas, via New York.
Our destination was the pink sand beach where the late Princess Diana went on her honeymoon.
If you're heading to the Bahamas, this might be a good reference.
The hotel we stayed at was the Ramada Hotel, which no longer exists.
My wife is showing us the hotel room.
But now you can see the beautiful scenery in real time.
When I played the DVD that arrived, it showed footage of our arrival in the Bahamas.
Please take a look if you'd like.
This time, we asked Fujifilm to make the DVD.
I'll post the link below.
Digitize videos and photos and convert them to DVDs | Fujifilm
fujifilmmall.jp/conversion/?_gl=1*1smvac9*_gcl_au*NTA1NDU....
#Bahamas #Nassau #PinkSandBeach #Honeymoon #1993
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Important Notices.
I have relaxed the following conditions.
I will distribute my T-shirt to the world for free.
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50656401427/in/dateposted-p...
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50613367691/in/dateposted-p...
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Notice regarding "Lot No.402_”.
From now on I will host "Lot No.402_".
The work of Leonardo da Vinci who was sleeping.
That is the number when it was put up for auction.
No sign was written on the work.
So this work couldn't conclude that it was his work.
However # as a result of various appraisals # it was exposed to the sun.
A work that no one notices. A work that speaks quietly without a title.
I will continue to strive to provide it to many people in various ways.
October 24 2020 by Mitsushiro - Nakagawa.
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 402 _.Copyright©︎2025 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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Profile.
In November 2014 # we caught the attention of the party selected to undertake the publicity for a mobile phone that changed the face of the world with just a single model # and will conclude a confidentiality agreement with them.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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Here’s a translated version with a style suitable for a news site introduction:
---
### **Interview and Novel: My Work**
I published a book in the past.
At that time, I uploaded my interview as a PDF online, both in Japanese and English.
Now, I am making it available for free.
More details can be found on Amazon.
**Writing a Novel.**
**Photography Techniques.**
**The Sense of Distance Between the Creator and the Work.**
These all share a common theme.
I put into words the things I felt and left them behind as a record.
I hope my text reaches many readers.
Thank you.
**Mitsushiro**
🔗 **[Access the Files Here](drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...)**
### **Contents**
📄 **1. Interview (English Version)**
📖 **2. Novel: *Unforgettable* (English Version)**
📄 **3. Interview (Japanese Version)**
📖 **4. Novel: *Unforgettable* (Japanese Version)**
*(This novel is dedicated to future artists.)*
*(456 pages in Japanese manuscript format.)*
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
---
### **Synopsis**
Kei Kitami, a student preparing for university entrance exams, meets Kaori Kamimura, an event companion six years his senior, through social media.
Kaori has come to Tokyo with a dream—to befriend famous artists.
To achieve this, she needs the influence of Ryo Osawa, a well-known radio producer.
During a live radio broadcast, Osawa speaks directly to Kaori:
*"I have a wife and child. But still, I want to see you."*
Meanwhile, Rika Sanjo, Kei’s classmate who secretly harbors feelings for him, is closely watching Kaori’s every move...
---
Main story
There are two reasons why a person faces the sea.
One to enjoy a slice of shine in the sea like children bubbling over in the beach.
The other to brush the dust of memory like an old man who misses old days staring at the shine
quietly.
Those lead to only one meaning though they do not seem to overlap. It’s a rebirth.
I face myself to change tomorrow a vague day into something certain.
That is the meaning of a rebirth.
I had a very sweet girlfriend when I was 18.
After she left I knew the meaning of gentleness for the first time and also a true pain of loss. After
she left # how many times did I depend too much on her # doubt her # envy her and keep on telling lies
until I realized it is love?
I wonder whether a nobody like me could have given something to her who was struggling in the
daily life in those days. Giving something is arrogant conceit. It is nothing but self-satisfaction.
I had been thinking about such a thing.
However I guess what she saw in me was because I had nothing. That‘s why she tried to see
something in me. Perhaps she found a slight possibility in me # a guy filled with ambiguous unstable
tomorrow. But I wasted days depending too much on her gentleness.
Now I finally can convey how I felt in those days when we met.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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iBooks. Electronic Publishing. It is free now.
0.about the iBooks.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
1.unforgettable '(ENG.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216576828?ls=1&...
2.unforgettable '(JNP.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216584262?ls=1&...
3. Streamlined trajectory.(For Japanese only.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/%E6%B5%81%E7%B7%9A%E5%BD%A2%E3%8... =11
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My Novel : Unforgettable'
(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
Kei Kitami, a student preparing for university entrance exams, meets Kaori Kamimura, an event companion six years his senior, through social media.
Kaori has come to Tokyo with a dream—to befriend famous artists.
To achieve this, she needs the influence of Ryo Osawa, a well-known radio producer.
During a live radio broadcast, Osawa speaks directly to Kaori:
*"I have a wife and child. But still, I want to see you."*
Meanwhile, Rika Sanjo, Kei’s classmate who secretly harbors feelings for him, is closely watching Kaori’s every move...
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
All Translated by Yumi Ikeda .
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon Live in Dublin
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
Main story
There are two reasons why a person faces the sea.
One to enjoy a slice of shine in the sea like children bubbling over in the beach.
The other to brush the dust of memory like an old man who misses old days staring at the shine
quietly.
Those lead to only one meaning though they do not seem to overlap. It’s a rebirth.
I face myself to change tomorrow a vague day into something certain.
That is the meaning of a rebirth.
I had a very sweet girlfriend when I was 18.
After she left I knew the meaning of gentleness for the first time and also a true pain of loss. After
she left # how many times did I depend too much on her # doubt her # envy her and keep on telling lies
until I realized it is love?
I wonder whether a nobody like me could have given something to her who was struggling in the
daily life in those days. Giving something is arrogant conceit. It is nothing but self-satisfaction.
I had been thinking about such a thing.
However I guess what she saw in me was because I had nothing. That‘s why she tried to see
something in me. Perhaps she found a slight possibility in me # a guy filled with ambiguous unstable
tomorrow. But I wasted days depending too much on her gentleness.
Now I finally can convey how I felt in those days when we met.
1/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24577016535/in/dateposted...
2/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24209330259/in/dateposted...
3/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/23975215274/in/dateposted...
4/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24515964952/in/dateposted...
5/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24276473749/in/dateposted...
6/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24548895082/in/dateposted...
7/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24594603711/in/dateposted...
8/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24588215562/in/dateposted...
9/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24100804163/in/dateposted...
Fin.
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
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Title of my book : unforgettable'
Author : Mitsushiro Nakagawa
Out Now.
ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
in Amazon.
Unforgettable’ amzn.asia/d/eG1wNc5
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The schedule of the next novel.
Still would stand all time. (Unforgettable '2)
(It will not go away forever)
Please give me some more time. That is Japanese.
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My Works.
1 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48072442376/in/dateposted...
2 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48078949821/in/dateposted...
3 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48085863356/in/dateposted...
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Do you want to hear my voice?
:)
1
About the composition of the picture posted to Flicker. First type.
2
About the composition of the picture posted to Flicker. Second type.
3
About when I started Fotolog. Architect 's point of view.
4
Why did not you have a camera so far?
5
What is the coolest thing? The photo is as it is.
6
About the current YouTube bar. I also want to tell # I want to leave.
7
About Japanese photographers. Japanese YouTube bar is Pistols.
8
The composition of the photograph is sensibility. Meet the designers in Milan. Two questions.
9
What is a good composition? What is a bad composition?
10
What is the time to point the camera? It is slow if you are looking into the viewfinder or display.
11
Family photos. I can not take pictures with others. The inside of the subject.
12
About YouTube 's photographer. Camera technology etc. Sensibility is polished by reading books.
13
About the Japanese newspaper. A picture of a good newspaper is Reuters. If you continue to look at useless photographs # it will be useless.
14
About Japanese photographers. About the exhibition.
Summary. I wrote a novel etc. What I want to tell the most.
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I talked about how to make a work.
About work production 1/2
About work production 2/2
1 Photo exhibition up to that point. Did you want to go?
2 Well # what is an exhibition that you want to visit even if you go there?
3 Challenge to exhibit one work every month before opening a solo exhibition at the Harajuku Design Festa.
4 works are materials and silhouettes. Similar to fashion.
5 Who is your favorite artist? What is it? Make it clear.
6 Creating a collage is exactly the same as taking photos. As I wrote in the interview # it is the same as writing a novel.
7 I want to show it to someone # but I do not make a piece to show it. Aim for the work you want to decorate your own room as in the photo.
8 What is copycat? Nowadays # it is suspected to be beaten. There is something called Mimesis?
kotobank.jp/word/Mimesis-139464
9 What is Individuality? What is originality?
www.youtube.com/user/mitsushiro/
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Explanation of composition. 2
1.Composition explanation 2 ... 1/4
2.Composition explanation 2 ... 2/4
3.Composition Explanation 2 ... 3/4
4.Composition Explanation 2 ... 4/4
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My shutter feeling.
Today's photo.
It is a photo taken from Eurostar.
This video is an explanation.
I went to Milan in 2005.
At that time # I went from Milan to Venice.
We took Eurostar into the transportation.
This photo was not taken from a very fast Eurostar.
When I changed the track # I took a picture at the moment I slowed down.
Is there a Japanese beside you?
Please have my video translated.
:)
In the Eurostar to Venice . 2005. shot ... 1 / 2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/49127115021/in/dateposted...
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Miles Davis sheet 1955-1976.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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flickr.
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/
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instagram.
www.instagram.com/mitsushiro_nakagawa/
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Pinterest.
www.pinterest.jp/MitsushiroNakagawa/
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YouPic
youpic.com/photographer/mitsushironakagawa/
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twitter.
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facebook.
www.facebook.com/mitsushiro.nakagawa
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threads.
www.threads.net/@mitsushiro_nakagawa
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Blue sky.
bsky.app/profile/mitsushironakagawa.bsky.social
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Amazon.
www.amazon.co.jp/gp/profile/amzn1.account.AHSKI3YMYPYE5UE...
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My Statistics (as of May 12, 2025)
Flickr and YouPic views:
Flickr 25,354,244 View
Youpic 8,533,634 View
x.com/mitsushiro/status/1921858836618481746
My statistics (as of December 15, 2024)
How many views have you had on Flickr and Youpic
Flickr 24,260,172 Views
Youpic 7,957,826 Views
x.com/mitsushiro/status/1868185157909582014
My statistics (as of August 1, 2024)
How many views have I had on Flickr and Youpic
Flickr 23,192,383 Views
Youpic 7,574,603 Views
My statistics. (As of February 7, 2024)
What is the number of accesses to Flickr and YouPic
Flickr 21,694,434 Views
Youpic 7,003,230 Views
What is the number of accesses to Flickr and YouPic?
(As of November 13, 2023)
Flickr 20,852,872 View
Youpic 6,671,486 View
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Japanese is the following.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
Title of my book unforgettable' Mitsushiro Nakagawa Out Now. ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
Mitsushiro Nakagawa belong to Lot No. 204 _ . Copyright©︎2024 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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Title.
朝の砂浜。
( FUJIFILM GFX50R shot )
ハワイ。アメリカ。2019. … 2 / 8
(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）
僕は小説のタイトルを決定しました。
僕の新しい小説のタイトル。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
僕はもう少し書き加えました。
:)
Images.
Bryony Jarman-Pinto … Water Come
youtu.be/z1ZAkZ5bSLs?si=56ao-cHyPzpnDsgp
::写真の音楽とiTunesプレイリストをリンク::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/photo-music/pl.u-Eg8qefpy8Xz
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
さらに公開します。
冒頭からの走り書きです。メモ程度です。
よかったら読んでください。:)
舞台はニューヨークです。
— 赤、黄色、青ーーー
イースト５２ndストリートに小雨が舞いはじめたのは、午後七時過ぎだった。
アナヤ・パテルは、待ち合わせたトットラーメンのとなりのビルの壁面にもたれ、右手に見える十字路の信号機をぼんやり眺めていた。もう７月だというのに、昨年よりも冷夏に感じ、Tシャツ一枚で出かけてきたことを後悔していた。
十字路の信号が青に変わると、アナは目を細め、凝視した。同級生のカナがこちらへ手を振りながら微笑み、駆け寄ってきていた——
マジソンスクエアガーデンの平坦な天井は、吐き出された人の熱気でいつもより膨らんでいるように、ジャックには見えた。大統領候補を歓迎する声とそれを罵倒する叫び声が錯綜し、鼓膜の奥を揺らしていた。
ジャックは、軽く場内の隅々まで目を凝らしてから、再びアイフォンに目を落とした。画面には、いくつかのSNSが同時に広がっており、それぞれが激しい書き込みによって文字が流れてゆく。
右下の、メタの書き込みに、ジャックは目を留めた。殺害予告だ。
大統領候補のジャスティン・ブラッドフォードは、フィアンセのエリノア・ブレイクとともに間も無くステージに立つ。
共和党を示す赤い光がステージ中央に差し込むと、二人は同時に現れた。
と、同時に、銃声が響いた。
一聴しただけでは気づかなかったがジャックの耳は聴き分けた。弾は二発だ。
騒然とした場内をよそに、ジャックは静かに目を閉じた。発射音から着弾までを想像した。
一発目の弾は、ジャックの右手、たぶん、PA近辺からだ。しかし、ジャックと同じ配属のシークレットサービスが張り込んでいたはずだ。もうひとつの弾丸をジャックは再び目を閉じて計算した。
弾は、たぶん、ステージ左手側からだ。ジャスティンとエリノアの二人の立ち位置を計算しているようだ。ひょっとしたら情報が漏れていたかもしれない。
ジャックの耳に第２報が入った。同僚のベン・ホロウェイの冷静な声だ。心臓ははずれたものの、2発の弾丸が打ち込まれていた。弾は心臓をかすめ、心窩部、ちょうど横隔膜の下に食い込んでいた。
ジャックも冷静に、ベンへ伝えた。
「ジャスティンはボンベイブラッドだ。三日前にベルビュー病院に確認した。予備の血液は保管されている」
ベンは、何事もなかったかのように、わかったと静かにいった。
マジソンスクエアガーデンにもっとも近いベルビュー病院に、ジャスティンを運び込む。ジャックは、病院で控えているイライジャ・ケインにスマートフォンから直接電話した。シークレットサービスではもちろんワッツアップなどのSNSはご法度だ。
ワンコールが切れる前にすぐイライジャは反応した。
「ジャック、大変だ。血液がない。ボンベイブラッドがないんだ」
ジャックは、耳を疑った。
「三日前に、俺は直接担当の、名前は忘れたな。とにかく目の前でブラッドバッグを確認したぞ」
イライジャは、数秒の沈黙の後、応えた。
「その血液の管理者は、きのう、交通事故で亡くなったんだ」
アナヤ・パテルは、夫のアルジュンをトットラーメンで待った。
学生時代からの親友、ミカ（佐藤）（日本人）も一緒だ。
店員が、アナヤの目の前にラーメンを差し出したとき、スマートフォンが鳴った。
登録してあるベルビュー病院からだった。
アナヤは、躊躇わずに出た。着信を見たミカは不安げにアナヤを見守った。
「アナヤ・パテルさんですか？ 私は救急部のサーシャウィルソンと言います。すでにご存知かもしれませんが、共和党大統領候補が撃たれました。あなたの血が必要です。すぐに病院へ来てください。シークレットサービスの車が迎えに行きます。動かないでください」
アナヤは、呆然としているミカの視線を追って、背後を振り返った。カウンターのちょうど左上に下がったディスプレイには、MSGの現在が男性レポーターによって放映されている。
アナは開いた入り口に目を移した。青い、洗練されたスーツをまとった褐色の肌の男性が、足早にアナに寄ってきた。
「シークレットサービスのロハン・シャーと言います。私と一緒に病院へ来てください。外に車を用意してあります」
彼は真剣な眼差しでアナへ伝え、手を引こうとした瞬間、アナのアイフォンが再び震えた。番号だけ浮かびあがっている。登録されていないようだ。アナは慌てて、タッチした。
「はい」
「アナヤ・パテルさん？」
「ええ、あなたは？」
「ジャック。ジャック・ヴァンス。シークレットサービスです。もうすぐそちらへ到着します」
「わたしの場所をどうやって？」
「わたしたちはプロだ。あらゆる手段を用意しています」
「もう、シークレットサービスの人が来てるわ」
ジャックの、違う！ という怒声が響いた瞬間、目の前の男性はスーツの内から小銃を引き抜き、アナの額に向けた。
店内に小さな銃声が響いた。
アナは、震えることすら忘れ、言葉を失い、放心していた。
目の前の男性がゆっくり床へ崩れると、夫のアルジュンが、やはりアナに銃を向けて現れた。
「フリーズ！FBI ！」
数人の制服を着たNYPDとグレイのスーツを纏ったFBIが叫んだ。
「全員、手を頭の後ろに回して床に伏せろ！」
映画のようなお決まりのセリフに、アナは震えていた。もちろん、ミカも。たぶん、アナの夫のアルジュンが最も震えていただろう。
遅れて、ジャックが店内に向け、叫んだ。
「アナヤ・パテル！」
アナは、見上げることなく、そのままに応えた。足がまだ震えている。
「わたしです」
額に汗を浮かべたジャックは、アナの身を起こすと、いった。
「すぐに病院へ行く」
病院にいるイライジャから、リンク付きのメッセージが届いた。
助手席に乗り込んだアナへジャックはアイフォンを放り投げると、リンク先を開け、と叫んだ。
慌てて、アナが触れると、どうやら生放送のようだった。
「こんばんわ、ニューヨーク。そしてロサンゼルス。私の名前はザカリア・ハッダード。本名だ。
数年前、ガザに住んでいた。今は、みなさんがよく目にする部屋を真似た部屋に私はいる」
褐色の、顎髭をたくわえたザカリアは、アメリカ大統領執務室とほとんど同じ部屋の椅子に座っていた。
腕時計にゆっくり目を落としてから、再び、カメラに視線を向けた。
「そろそろブレイキングニュースだ。スマートフォンの速報に注目して欲しい」
ザカリアがそういった途端、速報が流れた。
【民主党前大統領のオーウェン・リードがロサンゼルス・コンベンション・センターで銃撃された模様です】
ザカリアは、一瞬俯いて笑いを堪えながらいった。
「悲しい速報じゃないか。アメリカのみなさん。でもどうか悲しまないで欲しい。私が経験したガザではこの55,000倍だ。55,000人以上の大切な人を失い、そして、涙を流した」
ザカリアは、再び俯いたまま、両手を固く握りしめ、力強く机を叩きつけた。
顔を上げたザカリアの目にはうっすらと涙が溢れていた。
「私たちは、お金を求めない。また、死による名誉も求めない。私たちが欲しいのは、55,000人が流した涙と同じだけの涙だ。流された涙と同じだけの涙だけが、私たちを癒す」
両肘を机につき、両手を組むと、ザカリアは静かに顎を乗せた。目を閉じて、しばらく沈黙が続いた。目尻が細かく震えているようだった。そのままゆっくり口を開いた。
「55,000人のうちの私はひとりに過ぎない。私が消えても５万人もの意思は決して消えず、引き継がれる。私は、私たちの意思をここに表明するためにいる」
ザカリアは、机の引き出しから、グロック１７を取り出すと、スライドしてチャンバーに弾を流した。そして、自分のこめかみに向けた。
スンニ派である彼は、まっすぐにカメラを見つめ、皮肉混じりにいった。
「神のご加護を。アメリカ」
ザカリアは、目を閉じると、トリガーを真っ直ぐに引いた。乾いた音が部屋に響いた。映像は、瞬時に黒へ切り替わった。
つづく。
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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２０２5年の展示
テーマ
The Nightfly
僕の次の小説。B♭（ビーフラット）
そのイメージになります。
小説の一部分を抜粋し、公開します。
Images.
Taylor Swift … This Love 【和訳】
youtu.be/PfJzQuqWSSE?si=Y2g0HzhoVjnR46zS
Mitsushiro - Nakagawa
主催
デザインフェスタ
場所
東京ビッグサイト
日程
2025年 秋。
exhibition.mitsushiro.nakagawa@gmail.com
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重要なお知らせ。
僕は以下の条件を緩和します。
僕はTシャツを無料で世界中へ配布します。
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50656401427/in/dateposted-p...
m.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/50613367691/in/dateposted-p...
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タイトル
“” A.I. アップルのアイデンティティについて””
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54271473379/in/dateposted...
マークザッカーバーグ氏の批判に、アップルは耳を傾けるだろうか。
僕にはそう思えない。アップルヴィジョンプロに夢を見せられた僕には。
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新婚旅行の8mmフィルムを数十年ぶりに復活😃
youtu.be/zH-dG7bMeL4?si=yLF5_f1m-LhAVdPp
新婚旅行の8mmフィルムが数十年ぶりに出てきて、DVDに焼きました。
１９９３年６月６日、僕らは結婚し、そのままニューヨークを経由して、バハマのナッソーへ向かいました。
目的地は、亡くなられたダイアナ妃が新婚旅行へ向かったピンクサンドビーチです。
もしもこれからバハマへ向かうならば、参考に見てもよいかもしれません。
泊まったホテルは、今はもうないラマダホテル。
妻がホテルの部屋を紹介しています。
でも、今はリアルタイムで美しい景色が見られますね。
届いたDVDを再生したら、バハマに到着したところからの映像でした。
もしもよかったら見てください。
今回、DVD化を依頼した場所は、富士フィルムさんです。
下にリンクを貼っておきます。
ビデオや写真をデータ化しDVDに変換 | 富士フイルム
fujifilmmall.jp/conversion/?_gl=1*1smvac9*_gcl_au*NTA1NDU....
#バハマ #ナッソー #ピンクサンドビーチ #新婚旅行 #1993
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” Lot No.402_ ” に関するお知らせ。
今後、僕は、” Lot No.402_ ”を主催します。
このロットナンバーは、眠っていたレオナルドダヴィンチの作品がオークションにかけらた際に付されたものです。
作品にはサインなどがいっさい記されていなかったため、彼の作品だと断定できませんでした。
しかし、様々な鑑定の結果、陽の光を浴びました。
誰にも気づかれない作品。肩書がなくとも静かに語りかける作品。
僕はこれから様々な形で、多くの皆様に提供できるよう努めてゆきます。
2020年10月24日 by Mitsushiro - Nakagawa.
Copyright©︎2021 Lot No.402_ All rights reserved.
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プロフィール
2014年11月、たった1機種で世界を塗り替えた携帯電話の広告を請け負った選考者の目に留まり、秘密保持同意書を結ぶ。
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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インタビューと小説。
僕の本について。
僕は、昔に本を出版しました。
その際に、僕のインタビューをPDFでネット上へアップロードしていました。
その日本語と英語。
僕は、無料でを公開します。
詳細は、アマゾンのサイトへ解説しました。
小説の書き方。
写真の撮影方法。
作品への距離感。
これらはすべて共通項があります。
僕は、僕が感じたことを文章にして、残しました。
僕のテキストが多くの人に読んでもらえることを望みます。
ありがとう。
Mitsushiro.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
１ インタビュー 英語版
２ 小説。unforgettable’ 英語版。
３ インタビュー 日本語版
４ 小説。unforgettable’ 日本語版。(この小説は未来のアーティストへ捧げます)
(四百字詰め原稿用紙４５６枚)
あらすじ
大学を目指している北見ケイは、SNS上で、6歳年上のイベントコンパニオン、上村香織に出会う。
上京してきた香織の夢は、有名なアーティストの友達になるためだ。
そのためにはラジオ局のプロデューサー、大沢亮の存在が必要だった。
大沢は、ラジオの生放送中、香織へ語りかける。
「僕には妻子がある。しかし、僕は君に会いたいと思っている」
ケイの同級生で、彼を想っている三條里香は、香織の動向を探っていた。。。。。
本編
人が海へ向かう理由には、二つある。
ひとつは、波打ち際ではしゃぐ子供のように、今の瞬間の海の輝きを楽しむこと。
もうひとつは、その輝きを静かに見据えて、過ぎ去った日々を懐かしむ老人のように記憶の埃を払うこと。
二つは重なり合わないようではあるけれども、たったひとつの意味しか生まない。
再生だ。
明日っていう、曖昧な日を確実なものへと変えてゆくために、自分の存在に向き合う。
それが再生の意味だ。
十八歳だった僕には大切な人がいた。
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
５ 流線形の軌跡。 日本語のみ。
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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iBooks.電子出版。（現在は無料）
0.about the iBooks.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
1.unforgettable’ ( ENG.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216576828?ls=1&...
2.unforgettable’ ( JNP.ver.)(この小説は未来のアーティストへ捧げます)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216584262?ls=1&...
3.流線形の軌跡。
itunes.apple.com/us/book/%E6%B5%81%E7%B7%9A%E5%BD%A2%E3%8...
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僕の小説。英語版
My Novel Unforgettable' (This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
All Translated by Yumi Ikeda .
1/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24577016535/in/dateposted...
2/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24209330259/in/dateposted...
3/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/23975215274/in/dateposted...
4/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24515964952/in/dateposted...
5/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24276473749/in/dateposted...
6/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24548895082/in/dateposted...
7/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24594603711/in/dateposted...
8/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24588215562/in/dateposted...
9/9
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24100804163/in/dateposted...
Fin.
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon Live in Dublin
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
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Title of my book : unforgettable'
Author : Mitsushiro Nakagawa
Out Now.
ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
in Amazon.
Unforgettable’ amzn.asia/d/eG1wNc5
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僕の作品。
1 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48072442376/in/dateposted...
2 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48078949821/in/dateposted...
3 www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/48085863356/in/dateposted...
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あなたは僕の声を聞きたいですか？
:)
1
フリッカーへ投稿した写真の構図について。１種類目。
2
フリッカーへ投稿した写真の構図について。２種類目。
3
Fotologを始めた時について。 建築家の視点。
4
なぜ、今までカメラを手にしなかったのか？
5
何が一番かっこいいのか？ 写真はありのままに。
6
現在のユーチューバーについて。僕も伝え、残したい。
7
日本人の写真家について。日本のユーチューバーはピストルズ。
8
写真の構図は、感性。ミラノのデザイナーに会って。二つの質問。
9
良い構図とは？ 悪い構図とは？
10
カメラを向ける時とは？ ファインダーやディスプレイを覗いていては遅い。
11
家族写真。他人では撮れない。被写体の内面。
12
ユーチューブの写真家について。カメラの技術等。感性は、本を読むことで磨く。
13
日本の新聞について。良い新聞の写真はロイター。ダメな写真を見続けるとダメになる。
14
日本の写真家について。その展示について。
まとめ。僕が書いた小説など。僕が最も伝えたいこと。
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作品制作について 1/2
作品制作について 2/2
１ それまでの写真展。自分は行きたいと思ったか？
２ じゃ、自分が足を運んででも行きたい展示とは何か？
３ 原宿デザインフェスタで個展を開くまでに、毎月ひとつの作品を展示することにチャレンジ。
４ 作品とは、素材とシルエット。ファッションと似ている。
５ 自分が好きなアーティストは誰か？ どんなものなのか？ そこをはっきりさせる。
６ コラージュの作成も写真の撮り方と全く同じ。インタビューに書いたように小説の書き方とも同じ。
７ 誰かに見せたい、見せるがために作品は作らない。写真と同じように自分の部屋に飾りたい作品を目指す。
８ パクリとは何か？ 昨今、叩かれるパクリ疑惑。ミメーシスとは？
https://ja.wikipedia.org/wiki/ミメーシス
https://kotobank.jp/word/ミメーシス-139464
９ 個性とはなにか？ オリジナリティってなに？
おまけ 眞子さまについて
という流れです。
お時間がある方は是非聴いてください。
:)
www.youtube.com/user/mitsushiro/
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構図の解説２
1.構図の解説２ ... 1/4
2.構図の解説２ ... 2/4
3.構図の解説２ ... 3/4
4.構図の解説２ ... 4/4
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僕のシャッター感覚
In the Eurostar to Venice . 2005. shot ... 1 / 2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/49127115021/in/dateposted...
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Miles Davis sheet 1955-1976.
drive.google.com/drive/folders/1vBRMWGk29EmsoBV2o9NM1LIVi...
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flickr.
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/
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YouTube.
www.youtube.com/user/mitsushiro/
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instagram.
www.instagram.com/mitsushiro_nakagawa/
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Pinterest.
www.pinterest.jp/MitsushiroNakagawa/
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YouPic
youpic.com/photographer/mitsushironakagawa/
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fotolog
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twitter.
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facebook.
www.facebook.com/mitsushiro.nakagawa
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threads.
www.threads.net/@mitsushiro_nakagawa
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Blue sky.
bsky.app/profile/mitsushironakagawa.bsky.social
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Amazon.
www.amazon.co.jp/gp/profile/amzn1.account.AHSKI3YMYPYE5UE...
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僕の統計（2025年5月12日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 25,354,244 View
Youpic 8,533,634 View
x.com/mitsushiro/status/1921858836618481746
僕の統計。（2024年12月15日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 24,260,172 View
Youpic 7,957,826 View
x.com/mitsushiro/status/1868185157909582014
僕の統計。（2024年8月1日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 23,192,383 View
Youpic 7,574,603 View
僕の統計。（2024年2月7日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 21,694,434 View
Youpic 7,003,230 View
僕の統計。（2023年11月13日現在）
フリッカー、ユーピクのアクセス数は？
Flickr 20,852,872 View
Youpic 6,671,486 View
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Japanese is the following.
humility & sadness
The Laysan Albatross (Phoebastria immutabilis) is one of two species of albatross we saw on the Baja trip. They breed in Hawaii, including the island of Laysan (where the first specimen was described from), but they range widely across the North Pacific. I posted an underwing shot so here's an upperside, showing a similarity to Black-browed Albatross. Its scientific name is Phoebastria immutabilis. Phoebastria is named after a Prophetess while immutabilis means unchanging. Not sure why it was named this as the underwing pattern shows much variation.
The oldest known wild bird on the planet is a Laysan Albatross, an adult female which was ringed on Midway Island in 1956. As they don't breed until they are five years old, she must have been hatched in 1951 (or earlier) and was still rearing a chick as recently as 2021 when she was at least 70.
all changing phenomena arise within unchanging consciousness.
youtu.be/UqAhD_Zpclc?si=3h135wzI4rHh8zQT
reposting an old picture which was named "the sound of silence" with slight changes.
Between going and staying the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.
All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can't be touched.
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.
Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.
The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.
I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.
The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.
Octavio Paz
Rotunda II
Oeuvre d'Alexander Brodsky
2010
Bois, verre gravé, métal
Collection PERMM Museum
of contemporary Art, Perm, Russie
dans le jardin des Tuileries
Exposition Contrepoint d'art russe contemporain
dans le cadre de l'année France-Russie 2010 au musée du Louvre
www.louvre.fr/llv/exposition/detail_exposition.jsp?CONTEN...
Alexander Brodsky creates impressive metaphors of contemporary reality which always have the air of the eternal and of otherworldly melancholy. His Pet Corner - a model of the unique life of human animals in urban cages - represented Russia at the architectural biennale in Venice. His Coma (in which oil slowly fills up a city) was said by Boris Orlov, a living Sots-Art master, to be the best work of the 1990s. Back then, it seemed to be a harbinger of doom; today, one remembers it as a prophecy coming true. Brodsky's visual language affirms the sublime, growing out of the ashes. Many of his works are realized in destruction, and in touching the order of loss, they manage to convey to us unchanging truth about ourselves. extrait du site du musée de Perm
Places worth visiting this winter
⠀
Quite often celebrating grandiose holidays🎉 with our family and loved ones, we think in advance about gifts and places where it is worth spending the holiday itself.😁
⠀
Some people celebrate their home🏠 as quite a comfortable place for a celebration, but still once a year, on such a significant holiday, it is worth taking to the streets of the city and going to places unusual for everyday pastime.😉
⠀
Perhaps, if you have children, you can visit the nearest slides in our city. Children will be happy, and adults can enjoy the view and atmosphere of the whole holiday.🎊
⠀
Also, do not forget about the unchanging tradition - ice rinks and Christmas trees.🎄 Such places can be visited either alone or with any of your loved ones.
What places are you planning to visit during the New Year holidays?🤔 Or will you hold a celebration in the walls of a house or apartment? Feel free to answer questions and share your plans in the comments!
⠀
#eyebrow #eyelash #face #flashphotography #hairstyle #lip #lipstick #neck #shoulder #skin #NikonD4 #safronoviv_photo
I should be glad of loneliness
And hours that go on broken wings,
A thirsty body, a tired heart
And the unchanging ache of things,
If I could make a single song
As lovely and as full of light,
As hushed and brief as a falling star
On a winter night.
Sara Teasdale
Explore #14 - 24.07.2009 & FP
Your parents had reached a long slow time,
as animals do, the great center of their lives,
when they gleam in their fells as though eternally,
unchanging. Or as a day can seem eternal
if you lie and watch the full clouds, conscious
of your own time: you soon must get up and leave.
So father, mother, the small shabby town,
its patch of earth going on as though forever: you
forgot them there, where they’d been since you started out
and where you could find them again—as anyone
forgets what he has to lean on
so deeply and heavily that it wounds his side
and the pain seems only himself.
From Home Again Home Again by A. F. Moritz
Best Viewed Large On Black - See where this picture was taken. [?]
Dreams and Dust
The poet, they say, often dreams so deep that he loses track of his soul in the whereabouts of the universe. Often he chases her, only to find her haunting some strange planets.
They say that once they are together again, the poet sighs with relief and takes her to drink in the source of thoughts and reflexions, to calm her down.
Often she struggles and tries to drag him to her nightmare world,
…filled with somber characters who despise reason and seduce her to unbound places, where concepts such as peace and silence do not exist.
The poet is said to be weak, too fragile to resist these spells of unborn beings
…inevitably he finds himself in one of those places, arguing with dark ghosts of his future. Hopelessly trying to bring them back to godly endeavors.
Over and over again, he fails. This is a mission he will never accomplish, a quest he will never survive.
So he succumbs. Lays on the desert soil, unable to resist any further.
And the world, any world, all the worlds, keep their unchanging movement around each other.
Indifferent.
Images and text by: Summer W(ardhani)
Shot at The Tower and The Quest, temporary installation by Alpha Auer and Frigg Ragu for Burning Life '09
Time goes by, my love endures.
I love you more with each breath,
Each beat of my heart.
Night goes by, my love is eternal.
Every sunset and sunrise
Strengthens my love for you.
Daylight fades, my love is everlasting.
I awake and you're sleeping beside me,
My heart swells.
Weeks pass by, my love is timeless.
I hold your hand,
Love shines in your eyes, a mirror of passion.
Months disappear, our love is unchanging.
We become one and share our hopes and dreams
And future.
Years fade, our love is evermore.
We vow to love and cherish each other
Till the end of time.
Decades vanish, our love is ageless.
We ripen and wrinkle like autumn leaves,
Our love matures while our life light fades.
My heart, I will love you "til death do us part".
We will shine beyond the earth as infinity of stars,
Souls entwined, heavenly sparks of... love.
The Gayatri is a mantra for 2 thousand years sung only by males of the Braman Class. Now it is known and sung the world over by yogis and buddhists / transendentalists and it's said to have magic power. WE learned it from Chendra-Shekar when we were recently at Canyon Ranch. Susan has gotten into the chants as part of her yoga practice and this painting seemed a visual expression of the tones and form of the Gayatri.
Does that help Roger?
Gayatri (Sanskrit: गायत्री, gāyatrī) is the feminine form of gāyatra, a Sanskrit word for a song or a hymn. Originally the personification of the Gayatri mantra, revered by both Buddhists and Hindus worldwide, the goddess Gāyatrī is considered the veda mata, the mother of all Vedas and also the personification of the all-pervading Parabrahman, the ultimate unchanging reality that lies behind all phenomena. Gayatri Veda Mata is seen by many Hindus to be not just a Goddess, but a portrayal of Brahman himself, in the feminine form. Essentially, the Goddess is seen to combine all the phenomenal attributes of Brahman, including Past, Present and Future as well as the three realms of existence.[citation needed] Goddess Gāyatrī is also worshipped as the Hindu Trimurti combined as one. In Hinduism, there is only one creation who can withstand the brilliance of Aditya and that is Gāyatrī. Some also consider her to be the mother of all Gods and the culmination of Lakshmi, Parvati and Sarasvati.[citation needed]
Gāyatrī is typically portrayed as seated on a red lotus, signifying wealth. She appears in either of these forms:
Having five heads with the ten eyes looking in the eight directions plus the earth and sky, and ten arms holding all the weapons of Vishnu, symbolizing all her reincarnations.[citation needed]
Accompanied by a white swan, holding a book to portray knowledge in one hand and a cure in the other, as the goddess of Education.[citation needed
Indeed, the metaphor that "life is not parallel lines only" suggests that life is not a straightforward, unchanging journey with a clear, unobstructed path. Unlike parallel lines, which never meet and follow a constant direction, life is full of intersections, divergences, and unexpected turns.
This phrase beautifully captures the essence of the human experience, which is characterized by its complexity, variability, and the interconnectedness of events and decisions. Life involves a series of changes, challenges, and opportunities that often require adaptation and reconsideration of one’s path.
The unpredictability of life means that while we may set out on a certain course, the interactions we have, the decisions we make, and the circumstances we encounter can lead us in new and sometimes surprising directions. These twists and turns can lead to personal growth, new experiences, and profound insights. Thus, embracing the non-linear nature of life can help us to adapt more readily to its inherent uncertainties....................ChatGPT3.5
DSC00687
Fidelma is a girl's name of Irish origin. Flowing from the Old Irish expression feideil, meaning "ever-good," "enduring," or "constant," it's a beautiful way to symbolize your unchanging love for your newest addition.
Sponsored by Le'La @ Designer Showcase Event
Le'La - Fedelma
Romper, Blazer, Belt, and Boots
Erika, Gen.x, Kupra, Maitreya, Legacy and Reborn
20 Color HUD
Designer Showcase LM: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Corrupted%20Innocence/62/4...
Le'La LM: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/LeLa%20Island/139/117/2302
***
K&S Cosy Cafe Backdrop
Apple Fall - Carnaby Row Store
Kraftwork - Pretzel Cart
Myth - Fountain "Lilium"
WINGS HAIR - ES0126 / Ombre
Sapporo City ( The central area of town / Botanical garden ) 2019 Spring /
Helipterum roseum (Paper daisy) - ハナカンザシ（花簪）/
Language of flowers - Unchanging thought (変わらぬ思い) /
( oﾟ ∀ﾟ)ﾉ I hope everyone will have a wonderful new season. /
Dreams and Dust
The poet, they say, often dreams so deep that he loses track of his soul in the whereabouts of the universe. Often he chases her, only to find her haunting some strange planets.
They say that once they are together again, the poet sighs with relief and takes her to drink in the source of thoughts and reflexions, to calm her down.
Often she struggles and tries to drag him to her nightmare world,
…filled with somber characters who despise reason and seduce her to unbound places, where concepts such as peace and silence do not exist.
The poet is said to be weak, too fragile to resist these spells of unborn beings
…inevitably he finds himself in one of those places, arguing with dark ghosts of his future. Hopelessly trying to bring them back to godly endeavors.
Over and over again, he fails. This is a mission he will never accomplish, a quest he will never survive.
So he succumbs. Lays on the desert soil, unable to resist any further.
And the world, any world, all the worlds, keep their unchanging movement around each other.
Indifferent.
Images and text by: Summer W(ardhani)
Shot at The Tower and The Quest, temporary installation by Alpha Auer and Frigg Ragu for Burning Life '09
This series outlines a few simple activities to help keep your cat alert, healthy and happy. The collage illustrates some of the LOW TECH, tried and true, inexpensive toys sure to enrich your cat's life.
1) A cat and a ball of wool ...unchanging.
2) A cat and feathers ... timeless.
3) A cat and any configuration of cardboard - never-ending.
4) A cat and a hiding place - ageless.
5) A cat and a mouse - eternal.
6) A cat and her pet dog - endearing and enduring.
7) A cat and any old piece of anything - unending.
8) A cat and everything you found under the fridge - perpetual.
All photos from Google Images
I found an exposed roll of Bergger Pancro400 in the darkroom yesterday, and I had no idea what was on the roll. So, I processed it in my last bit of D-76 I'd made some weeks ago - a developer I haven't used before with Pancro400. One of these days I am going to shoot a roll of a single, unchanging subject and cut the roll up into 3 or 4 pieces, and do a comparison between BER49, Rodinal, Xtol, and D-76 to see how each performs with this emulsion.
I have no data about what camera was used, or how the film was exposed. I'm guessing it was my Minolta Autocord, though.
~Shaking in red, in red, in red,
To the edge of the dream, the dream,
We can't be separated.
How often have we given up to this stifling pressure?
My emotions that have no place to go wake me up,
Your pure smile is so cruel,
It knows that we're existences far apart.
So distant that it's cruel.
Even though the incurable wound only eats away at my heart,
Even now I can't completely kill the emotions (that dwell) (within) the darkness.
Shaking in red, in red, in red,
To the edge of the dream, the dream,
Destiny began to turn as we met.
A secret that no-one, no-one knows,
I fall, I fall, I fall,
I certainly can't return anymore, even if I carve out my sins.
While I was walking in the abyss of loneliness, I was saved,
By those unchanging, real eyes,
Even though the light is too bright, the new born shadow,
Deeply and pronouncedly creeps up on me .
The two heartbeats are exactly like two mirrors facing each other,
The (pains) are similar (but) different and continue infinitely,
Burning in red, in red, in red,
Erasing everything, everything,
An unfulfilled illusion begins to move.
Strongly, strongly,
Overcoming, overcoming, overcoming the fleeting night,
I certainly can't escape, even if I drown in my sins .
Shaking in red, in red, in red,
To the edge of the dream, the dream,
We met; destiny begins to turn,
A secret that no-one, no-one knows,
I fall, I fall, I fall,
I certainly can't return anymore,even if I carve out my sins~
----------
ON/OFF - Futatsu No Kodou To Akai Tsumi (Vampire Knight Opening Theme)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWjLDRa7JsE
(Translated from Japanese)
I found this outfit at an event and was inspired to do a tribute to one of my favourite mangas growing up.
The Broadway High Street is characteristically recognisable for the unchanging nature of its honey coloured period buildings and wide grass verges that has gone on to define a typical Cotswold scene. It runs from the upper high street, where you'll find photogenic mansions carved from Cotswold stone, down to the commercial section of the village where the road widens and ends at the village Green. For the wave of visitors and tourists that arrive each year, it's this part of the high street that is the main attraction with plenty of independent retail shops and cafés in close proximity to delight a complete range of individual tastes.
On the approach to the Northern Yukon Territory"s Dempster Highway last week, the birch and Aspen exhibited a vivid spectrum of red and gold, nicely set off by swirls of emerald and lavender Northern Lights.
( I utilized a regular photographic parlor trick of mine here, illuminating the fall foliage with my truck's parking lights)
Throughout most of the season during which my camera chronicles the Aurora's behavior it is done against a foreground of unchanging white, so brilliant Auroral displays enhanced by Autumn leaves are something of a special treat.
I like a window that's willing to change, to try new things, to experiment--yet still remains loyal to its core values.
Les phénomènes de la vie peuvent être comparés à un rêve, un phantasme, une bulle d'air, une ombre, la rosée miroitante, la lueur de l'éclair, et ainsi doivent-ils être contemplés.
Le Bouddha, Sutra Immuable
Cacilhas, December 2003.
[taken with Zoran COACH 1.0]
Dreams and Dust
The poet, they say, often dreams so deep that he loses track of his soul in the whereabouts of the universe. Often he chases her, only to find her haunting some strange planets.
They say that once they are together again, the poet sighs with relief and takes her to drink in the source of thoughts and reflexions, to calm her down.
Often she struggles and tries to drag him to her nightmare world,
…filled with somber characters who despise reason and seduce her to unbound places, where concepts such as peace and silence do not exist.
The poet is said to be weak, too fragile to resist these spells of unborn beings
…inevitably he finds himself in one of those places, arguing with dark ghosts of his future. Hopelessly trying to bring them back to godly endeavors.
Over and over again, he fails. This is a mission he will never accomplish, a quest he will never survive.
So he succumbs. Lays on the desert soil, unable to resist any further.
And the world, any world, all the worlds, keep their unchanging movement around each other.
Indifferent.
Images and text by: Summer W(ardhani)
Shot at The Tower and The Quest, temporary installation by Alpha Auer and Frigg Ragu for Burning Life '09
Archaelogical site of Nemea - Greece - Temple of Zeus ca. 330 BC.
“Greek ruins have an extraordinarily large constituency. They are of interest to archaeologists, architects, poets, lovers, historians, artists, painters, builders, scientists, scholars and of course photographers. For most observers ruins are a static thing, unchanging relics from a prior civilization. But for a photographer (or painter) ruins are wildly in motion as the sun moves across the sky, as clouds alter the display of light on irregular surfaces, as the sun´s course every day of the year, and as surrounding vegetation blossoms and dries”.
Robert McCabe – “Chronography”, Kapon Editions.
Another view over Yukon's disappearing past. At least the mountains remain steadfast and unchanging over the scale of time which we would recognise. Those great lithic mounds looked the same when these buildings were erected as they do now and they will remain the same long after these structures are gone. For us mortals, everything gives way to senescence and decay. Every dog has his day, and even memories will, in due course, evaporate, riding the wake of the people, places and things that formed them. . .
Photo taken with the Olympus OM-D E-M1 and M.Zuiko 40-150mm f/2.8 Pro hand held. All raw conversion and post processing carried out using DxO PhotoLab 6.1.1.
Sempiternal (sem·pi·ter·nal): eternal and unchanging; everlasting.
I'm a day late on #throwbackthursday but Birthday to my best friend @dark_imaginings who is always up for adventures and doing crazy concepts with me. 🎈
Snow White on Evergreen -
Dear friends
This year is one unique to the times.
I have a thing about countries with wintry weather. It is amusement to see humid air rising with my breath. It may sound silly but the gale whistling in rhythm with the door that wrestles with its lock is music. And warming my toes around a crackling hearth while looking out evokes so much sentimentality. The flurries falling so slow calls to mind delicate beauty that melts with heat, voices from the past, as well as dandruff. Even the little white stuff from God’s hair can cover polluted earth with purity. :D Alas, I live in scorching Singapore thus Christmas is never white but always green.
This year a contagious virus made me wear a mask.
Whatever thunders and storms, I want to continue to praise God. I want to thank Jesus for His completed victory on the cross. Even as things change around me, I will hold on and keep trusting Him. Even if the world is on fire, I want to anchor on His peace. His unchanging love will outlast any pandemic.
This year is ending. Hooray!
Have a wonderful Christmas.
See you again in a new born year. :)
Same old Jun
December 24th, 2020
New to our garden this Spring
Sweet William..........( Dianthus )
FLOWER of the homely but poetic name,
Loved by our fathers' fathers long ago,
Unchanging beauty thou hast yet to show,
A beauty ever fresh and yet the same,-
Here a deep crimson, here a scarlet flame,
Here a soft pink, and here a white like snow,
Setting this border's margin in a glow
Of colour that no lordlier flower can shame.
Whence came thy title? Is it wrong to dream,
That Shakespeare loved thee in the olden days,
And in a garden bordering Avon's stream
Honoured thy beauty with a word of praise,
And some good friend of flowers and poesy
Bestowed this title upon him and thee?
- Robert Henry Forster-