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The Daintree Rainforest, also known as the Daintree, is a region on the northeastern coast of Queensland, Australia, about 105 km, by road, north of the city of Cairns. Whilst the terms "Daintree Rainforest" and "the Daintree" are not officially defined, it is generally accepted and understood that they refer to the area from the Daintree River north to Cooktown, and from the coastline west to the Great Dividing Range. The popular tourist destination of Mossman Gorge, some 30 km south of the Daintree River, is often included in the definition.
At around 1,200 square kilometres, the Daintree is a part of the largest contiguous area of tropical rainforest in Australia, known as the Wet Tropics of Queensland. The region, along with a select number of other rainforest areas on the Australian east coast, collectively form some of the oldest extant rainforest communities in the world. At around 180 million years old, these ancient, self-sustaining forests are nearly 10 million years older than the Amazon of South America (the world’s largest rainforest and top region for biodiversity), and have witnessed dinosaurs, ice ages, and early humans all come and go.
In 2009 as part of the Q150 celebrations, the Daintree Rainforest was announced as one of the Q150 Icons of Queensland for its role as a "natural attraction".
The rainforest is named after the Daintree River, which in turn was named in honour of the Australian geologist and photographer Richard Daintree. It is a remnant of what was once a vast forest that covered the entire Australian continent. It is a rare survivor of 120 million years of altered climatic conditions resulting from continental drift, which has reduced the extent of the original forest to a few restricted areas on the east coast.
The area includes the Daintree National Park, some areas of State Forest, and some privately owned land, including a residential community. Some of the privately owned land north of the Peninsula Range is being progressively purchased for conservation purposes under a $15 million government scheme involving equal contributions from the Cairns Regional, the Queensland, and the Australian Governments. As of May 2011, 72% of the properties earmarked for buyback or compensation had been secured. These 'buyback' areas of tropical rainforest included 215 blocks of land purchased by the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service, and 13 purchased by private conservation agencies.
The Daintree Rainforest contains approximately 3,000 different plant species, from nearly 210 plant families; with over 900 different types of tree, one single hectare could, realistically, contain anywhere from 100 to 150 individual species. The forests contain 30% of the total frog, reptile and marsupial species in Australia, 90% of the continent's bat and butterfly species, 7% of the country's bird species, and over 12,000 species of insects, along with a multitude of lower animals, fungi, lichens, mosses, and microorganisms – all within an area constituting 0.12% of Australia's landmass. Part of the forest is protected by the Daintree National Park and drained by the Daintree River. The roads north of the river wind through areas of lush forest, and have been designed to minimize impacts on this ancient ecosystem.
On 29 September 2021, the eastern Kuku Yalanji people won formal ownership of 160,213 hectares of country stretching from Mossman to Cooktown, including the Daintree National Park after a historic deal was made between the traditional custodians and the Queensland Government, on top of an earlier Native Title agreement.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hijra_(South_Asia)
Hijra (for translations, see [n 1]) is a term used in South Asia – particularly in India and Pakistan – to refer to trans women (male-to-female transgender individuals).[1][2] In different areas of Pakistan and India, transgender people are also known as Aravani, Aruvani or Jagappa.[3]
In Pakistan and Bangladesh, the hijras are officially recognized as third gender by the government,[4][5] being neither completely male nor female. In India also, transgender people have been given the status of third gender and are protected as per the law despite the social ostracism. The term more commonly advocated by social workers and transgender community members themselves is khwaja sira (Urdu: خواجہ سرا) and can identify the individual as a transsexual person, transgender person (khusras), cross-dresser (zenanas) or eunuch (narnbans).[6][7]
Hijras have a recorded history in the Indian subcontinent from antiquity onwards as suggested by the Kama Sutra period. This history features a number of well-known roles within subcontinental cultures, part gender-liminal, part spiritual and part survival.
In South Asia, many hijras live in well-defined and organised all-hijra communities, led by a guru.[8][9] These communities have sustained themselves over generations by "adopting" boys who are in abject poverty, rejected by, or flee, their family of origin.[10] Many work as sex workers for survival.[11]
The word "hijra" is an Urdu word derived from the Semitic Arabic root hjr in its sense of "leaving one's tribe,"[12] and has been borrowed into Hindi. The Indian usage has traditionally been translated into English as "eunuch" or "hermaphrodite," where "the irregularity of the male genitalia is central to the definition."[13] However, in general hijras are born with typically male physiology, only a few having been born with intersex variations.[14] Some Hijras undergo an initiation rite into the hijra community called nirwaan, which refers to the removal of the penis, scrotum and testicles.[11]
Since the late 20th century, some hijra activists and Western non-government organizations (NGOs) have lobbied for official recognition of the hijra as a kind of "third sex" or "third gender," as neither man nor woman.[15] Hijras have successfully gained this recognition in Bangladesh and are eligible for priority in education.[16] In India, the Supreme Court in April 2014 recognised hijra and transgender people as a 'third gender' in law.[17][18][19]
Nepal, Pakistan, India, and Bangladesh have all legally recognized the existence of a third gender, including on passports and other official documents.
Terminology
The Urdu and Hindi word hijra may alternately be romanized as hijira, hijda, hijada, hijara, hijrah and is pronounced [ˈɦɪdʒɽaː]. This term is generally considered derogatory in Urdu and the word Khwaja Sara is used instead. Another such term is khasuaa (खसुआ) or khusaraa (खुसरा). In Bengali hijra is called হিজড়া, hijra, hijla, hijre, hizra, or hizre.
A number of terms across the culturally and linguistically diverse Indian subcontinent represent similar sex or gender categories. While these are rough synonyms, they may be better understood as separate identities due to regional cultural differences. In Odia, a hijra is referred to as hinjida, hinjda or napunsaka, in Telugu, as napunsakudu (నపుంసకుడు), kojja (కొజ్జ) or maada (మాడ), in Tamil Nadu, Thiru nangai (mister woman), Ali, aravanni, aravani, or aruvani, in Punjabi, khusra and jankha, in Sindhi khadra, in Gujarati, pavaiyaa (પાવૈયા).
In North India, the goddess Bahuchara Mata is worshipped by Pavaiyaa (પાવૈયા). In South India, the goddess Renuka is believed to have the power to change one's sex. Male devotees in female clothing are known as Jogappa. They perform similar roles to hijra, such as dancing and singing at birth ceremonies and weddings.[21]
The word kothi (or koti) is common across India, similar to the Kathoey of Thailand, although kothis are often distinguished from hijras. Kothis are regarded as feminine men or boys who take a feminine role in sex with men, but do not live in the kind of intentional communities that hijras usually live in. Additionally, not all kothis have undergone initiation rites or the body modification steps to become a hijra.[22] Local equivalents include durani (Kolkata), menaka (Cochin),[23] meti (Nepal), and zenana (Pakistan).
Hijra used to be translated in English as "eunuch" or "hermaphrodite,"[13] although LGBT historians or human rights activists have sought to include them as being transgender.[24] In a series of meetings convened between October 2013 and Jan 2014 by the transgender experts committee of India's Ministry of Social Justice and Empowerment, hijra and other trans activists asked that the term "eunuch" be discontinued from usage in government documents, as it is not a term with which the communities identify.
Gender and sexuality
These identities have no exact match in the modern Western taxonomy of gender and sexual orientation,[24] and challenge Western ideas of sex and gender.[11]
In India, some Hijras do not define themselves by specific sexual orientation, but rather by renouncing sexuality altogether. Sexual energy is transformed into sacred powers. However, these notions can come in conflict with the practical, which is that hijras are often employed as prostitutes.[25] Furthermore, in India a feminine male who takes a "receptive" role in sex with a man will often identify as a kothi (or the local equivalent term). While kothis are usually distinguished from hijras as a separate gender identity, they often dress as women and act in a feminine manner in public spaces, even using feminine language to refer to themselves and each other. The usual partners of hijras and kothis are men who consider themselves heterosexual as they are the ones who penetrate.[26] These male partners are often married, and any relationships or sex with "kothis" or hijras are usually kept secret from the community at large. Some hijras may form relationships with men and even marry,[27] although their marriage is not usually recognized by law or religion. Hijras and kothis often have a name for these masculine sexual or romantic partners; for example, panthi in Bangladesh, giriya in Delhi or sridhar in Cochin.[23]
Social status and economic circumstances
Most hijras live at the margins of society with very low status; the very word "hijra" is sometimes used in a derogatory manner. The Indian lawyer and author Rajesh Talwar has written a book highlighting the human rights abuses suffered by the community titled 'The Third Sex and Human Rights.'[28] Few employment opportunities are available to hijras. Many get their income from extortion (forced payment by disrupting work/life using demonstrations and interference), performing at ceremonies (toli), begging (dheengna), or sex work ('raarha')—an occupation of eunuchs also recorded in premodern times. Violence against hijras, especially hijra sex workers, is often brutal, and occurs in public spaces, police stations, prisons, and their homes.[29] As with transgender people in most of the world, they face extreme discrimination in health, housing, education, employment, immigration, law, and any bureaucracy that is unable to place them into male or female gender categories.[30]
In 2008, HIV prevalence was 27.6% amongst hijra sex workers in Larkana.[6] The general prevalence of HIV among the adult Pakistani population is estimated at 0.1%.[31]
In October 2013, Pakistani Christians and Muslims (Shia and Sunni) put pressure on the landlords of Imamia Colony to evict any transgender residents. "Generally in Pakistan, Khwaja Sira are not under threat. But they are in Khyber Pakhtunkhwa Province because of a 'new Islam' under way", I.A. Rehman, the director of the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan.[32]
In a study of Bangladeshi hijras, participants reported not being allowed to seek healthcare at the private chambers of doctors, and experiencing abuse if they go to government hospitals.[33]
Beginning in 2006, hijras were engaged to accompany Patna city revenue officials to collect unpaid taxes, receiving a 4-percent commission.[34]
Since India's Supreme Court re-criminalized homosexual sex on 13 December 2013, there has been a sharp increase in the physical, psychological and sexual violence against the transgender community by the Indian Police Service, nor are they investigating even when sexual assault against them is reported.[35]
On 15 April 2014, in National Legal Services Authority v. Union of India, the Supreme Court of India ruled that transgender people should be treated as a third category of gender or as a socially and economically "backward" class entitled to proportional access and representation in education and jobs.[36]
Language
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The hijra community due to its peculiar place in sub-continental society which entailed marginalisation yet royal privileges developed a secret language known as Hijra Farsi. The language has a sentence structure loosely based on Urdu and a unique vocabulary of at least a thousand words. Beyond the Urdu-Hindi speaking areas of subcontinent the vocabulary is still used by the hijra community within their own native languages.
In South Asian politics
In 2013, transgender people in Pakistan were given their first opportunity to stand for election.[37] Sanam Fakir, a 32-year-old hijra, ran as an independent candidate for Sukkur, Pakistan's general election in May.[38]
The governments of both India (1994)[39] and Pakistan (2009)[40] have recognized hijras as a "third sex", thus granting them the basic civil rights of every citizen. In India, hijras now have the option to identify as a eunuch ("E") on passports and on certain government documents. They are not, however, fully accommodated; in order to vote, for example, citizens must identify as either male or female. There is also further discrimination from the government. In the 2009 general election, India's election committee denied three hijras candidature unless they identified themselves as either male or female.
In April 2014, Justice KS Radhakrishnan declared transgender to be the third gender in Indian law, in a case brought by the National Legal Services Authority (Nalsa) against Union of India and others.[17][18][19] The ruling said:[41]
Seldom, our society realises or cares to realise the trauma, agony and pain which the members of Transgender community undergo, nor appreciates the innate feelings of the members of the Transgender community, especially of those whose mind and body disown their biological sex. Our society often ridicules and abuses the Transgender community and in public places like railway stations, bus stands, schools, workplaces, malls, theatres, hospitals, they are sidelined and treated as untouchables, forgetting the fact that the moral failure lies in the society's unwillingness to contain or embrace different gender identities and expressions, a mindset which we have to change.
Justice Radhakrishnan said that transgender people should be treated consistently with other minorities under the law, enabling them to access jobs, healthcare and education.[42] He framed the issue as one of human rights, saying that, "These TGs, even though insignificant in numbers, are still human beings and therefore they have every right to enjoy their human rights", concluding by declaring that:[41]
Hijras, Eunuchs, apart from binary gender, be treated as "third gender" for the purpose of safeguarding their rights under Part III of our Constitution and the laws made by the Parliament and the State Legislature.
Transgender persons' right to decide their self-identified gender is also upheld and the Centre and State Governments are directed to grant legal recognition of their gender identity such as male, female or as third gender.
A bill supported by all political parties was tabled in Indian parliament to ensure transgender people get benefits akin reserved communities like SC/STs and is taking steps to see that they get enrollment in schools and jobs in government besides protection from sexual harassment.[43]
History
The ancient Kama Sutra mentions the performance of fellatio by feminine people of a third sex (tritiya prakriti).[44] This passage has been variously interpreted as referring to men who desired other men, so-called eunuchs ("those disguised as males, and those that are disguised as females"[45]), male and female trans people ("the male takes on the appearance of a female and the female takes on the appearance of the male"),[46] or two kinds of biological males, one dressed as a woman, the other as a man.[47]
During the era of the British Raj, authorities attempted to eradicate hijras, whom they saw as "a breach of public decency."[48] Anti-hijra laws were repealed; but a law outlawing castration, a central part of the hijra community, was left intact, though rarely enforced. Also during British rule in India they were placed under the Criminal Tribes Act 1871 and labelled a "criminal tribe," hence subjected to compulsory registration, strict monitoring and stigmatized for a long time; after independence however they were denotified in 1952, though the centuries-old stigma continues.[49]
In religion
The Indian transgender hijras or Aravanis ritually marry the Hindu god Aravan and then mourn his ritual death (seen) in an 18-day festival in Koovagam, India.
Many practice a form of syncretism that draws on multiple religions; seeing themselves to be neither men nor women, hijras practice rituals for both men and women.
Hijras belong to a special caste. They are usually devotees of the mother goddess Bahuchara Mata, Lord Shiva, or both.
Hijras and Bahuchara Mata
Bahuchara Mata is a Hindu goddess with two unrelated stories both associated with transgender behavior. One story is that she appeared in the avatar of a princess who castrated her husband because he would run in the woods and act like a woman rather than have sex with her. Another story is that a man tried to rape her, so she cursed him with impotence. When the man begged her forgiveness to have the curse removed, she relented only after he agreed to run in the woods and act like a woman. The primary temple to this goddess is located in Gujarat[50] and it is a place of pilgrimage for hijras, who see Bahucahara Mata as a patroness.
Hijras and Lord Shiva
One of the forms of Lord Shiva is a merging with Parvati where together they are Ardhanari, a god that is half Shiva and Half Parvati. Ardhanari has special significance as a patron of hijras, who identify with the gender ambiguity.[50]
Hijras in the Ramayana
In some versions of the Ramayana,[51] when Rama leaves Ayodhya for his 14-year exile, a crowd of his subjects follow him into the forest because of their devotion to him. Soon Rama notices this, and gathers them to tell them not to mourn, and that all the "men and women" of his kingdom should return to their places in Ayodhya. Rama then leaves and has adventures for 14 years. When he returns to Ayodhya, he finds that the hijras, being neither men nor women, have not moved from the place where he gave his speech. Impressed with their devotion, Rama grants hijras the boon to confer blessings on people during auspicious inaugural occasions like childbirth and weddings. This boon is the origin of badhai in which hijras sing, dance, and give blessings.[
Hijras in the Mahabharata
Mahabharata includes an episode in which Arjun, a hero of the epic, is sent into an exile. There he assumes an identity of a eunuch-transvestite and performs rituals during weddings and childbirths that are now performed by hijras.[53]
In the Mahabharata, before the Kurukshetra War, Iravan offers his lifeblood to goddess Kali to ensure the victory of the Pandavas, and Kali agrees to grant him power. On the night before the battle, Iravan expresses a desire to get married before he dies. No woman was willing to marry a man doomed to die in a few hours, so Arjuna as Brihinala marries him. In South India, hijras claim Iravan as their progenitor and call themselves "aravanis."[52]
"Sangam literature use ' word 'Pedi' to refer to people born with Intersex condition, it also refers to antharlinga hijras and various Hijra, The Aravan cult in Koovagam village of Tamil Nadu is a folk tradition of the transwomen, where the members enact the legend during an annual three-day festival. "This is completely different from the sakibeki cult of West Bengal, where transwomen don't have to undergo sex change surgery or shave off their facial hair. They dress as women still retaining their masculine features and sing in praise of Lord Krishna,". "Whereas, since the Tamil society is more conservative and hetero-normative, transwomen completely change themselves as women. In the ancient times, even religion has its own way of accepting these fringe communities." The Bachura Devi worship in Gujarat and Jogappa cult of Karanataka are the other examples.the kinds of dialects and languages spoken by these community in different parts of the country and the socio-cultural impact on the lingo. 'Hijra Farsi' is the transgender dialect, a mix of Urdu, Hindi and Persian spoken in the northern belt of India, Pakistan and Afghanistan and 'Kothi Baashai' is spoken by the transgender community in Karnataka, Andhra, Orissa and parts of Tamil Nadu. "They even have sign languages and typical mannerisms to communicate. The peculiar clap is one such"
—Gopi Shankar Madurai, National Queer Conference 2013[54][55]
Each year in Tamil Nadu, during April and May, hijras celebrate an eighteen-day religious festival. The aravani temple is located in the village Koovagam in the Ulundurpet taluk in Villupuram district, and is devoted to the deity Koothandavar, who is identified with Aravan. During the festival, the aravanis reenact a story of the wedding of Lord Krishna and Lord Aravan, followed by Aravan's subsequent sacrifice. They then mourn Aravan's death through ritualistic dances and by breaking their bangles. An annual beauty pageant is also held, as well as various health and HIV or AIDS seminars. Hijras from all over the country travel to this festival. A personal experience of the hijras in this festival is shown in the BBC Three documentary India's Ladyboys and also in the National Geographic Channel television series Taboo.
Hijras in Islam
There is evidence that Indian hijras identifying as Muslim also incorporate aspects of Hinduism. Still, despite this syncretism, Reddy (2005) notes that a hijra does not practice Islam differently from other Muslims and argues that their syncretism does not make them any less Muslim. Reddy (2003) also documents an example of how this syncretism manifests: in Hyderabad, India a group of Muslim converts were circumcised, something seen as the quintessential marker of male Muslim identity.[clarification needed]
In films and literature
Bangladesh
The film Common Gender (2012) relates the story of the Bangladesh hijra and their struggle for survival.
India
Hijras have been portrayed on screen in Indian cinema since its inception, historically as comic relief. A notable turning point occurred in 1974 when real hijras appeared during a song-and-dance sequence in Kunwaara Baap ("The Unmarried Father"). There are also hijras in the Hindi movie Amar Akbar Anthony (1977) who accompany one of the heroes, Akbar (Rishi Kapoor), in a song entitled "Tayyab Ali Pyar Ka Dushman" ("Tayyab Ali, the Enemy of Love"). One of the first sympathetic hijra portrayals was in Mani Ratnam's Bombay (1995). 1997's Tamanna[56] starred male actor Paresh Rawal in a central role as "Tiku", a hijra who raises a young orphan. Pooja Bhatt produced and also starred in the movie, with her father Mahesh Bhatt co-writing and directing. Deepa Mehta's Water features the hijra character "Gulabi" (played by Raghubir Yadav), who has taken to introducing the downtrodden, outcast widows of Varanasi to prostitution. Not surprisingly, perhaps, the film generated much controversy. There is a brief appearance of hijras in the 2004 Gurinder Chadha film Bride & Prejudice, singing to a bride-to-be in the marketplace. There's also a loose reference, in the guise of "Rocky" ("Rokini") in Deepha Mehta's Bollywood/Hollywood.
The 1997 Hindi film Darmiyaan: In Between directed & co-written by Kalpana Lajmi is based on the subject of Hijra, wherein a fictitious story of an actress bearing a son that turns out to be neuter.
In the 2000 Tamil film Appu directed by Vasanth, a remake of the Hindi film Sadak, the antagonist is a brothel-owning hijra played by Prakash Raj. (In Sadak, the brothel-owning character was played by Sadashiv Amrapurkar under the name "Maharani".)
In 2005, a fiction feature film titled Shabnam Mausi was made on the life of a eunuch politician Shabnam Mausi. It was directed by Yogesh Bharadwaj and the title role played by Ashutosh Rana.
Jogwa, a 2009 Marathi film, depicts the story of a man forced to be hijra under certain circumstances. The movie has received several accolades.[57]
In Soorma Bhopali, Jagdeep encounters a troupe of hijra on his arrival in Bombay. The leader of this pack is also played by Jagdeep himself.
In Anil Kapoor's Nayak, Johnny Lever, who plays the role of the hero's assistant, gets beaten up by hijras, when he is caught calling them "hijra" (he is in habit of calling almost everyone who bothers him by this pejorative and no one cares much, except this once ironically, as the addressees are literally what he is calling them.)
One of the main characters in Khushwant Singh's novel Delhi, Bhagmati is a hijra. She makes a living as a semi-prostitute and is wanted in the diplomatic circles of the city.
Vijay TV's Ippadikku Rose, a Tamil show conducted by postgraduate educated transgender woman Rose is a very successfully running program that discusses various issues faced by youth in Tamil Nadu, where she also gives her own experiences.
In addition to numerous other themes, the 2008 movie Welcome to Sajjanpur by Shyam Benegal explores the role of hijras in Indian society.
In the Malayalam movie Ardhanaari, released on 23 November 2012, director Santhosh Sowparnika tries to depict the life of a transgender person. Manoj K Jayan, Thilakan, Sukumari and Maniyanpilla Raju perform leading roles.
In August, 2015, a music video featuring 7 hijras dressed in outfits or uniforms of various professions and singing the National Anthem of India created by a YouTube channel Yathartha Pictures went viral for being the first National Anthem video sung by hijras in India.[58][59] The hijras featured in the video were brought together by the Humsafar Trust, a Mumbai-based NGO which promotes LGBT rights.[60][61]
Tamil
Vaadamalli by novelist Su.Samuthiram is the first Tamil novel about Aravaani community in Tamil Nadu, published in 1994. Later transgender activist A. Revathi became first Hijra to write about transgender issues and gender politics in Tamil, her works have been translated in more than 8 languages and acting as a primary resources on Gender Studies in Asia. Her book is part of research project for more than 100 universities. She is the author of Unarvum Uruvamum (Feelings of the Entire Body); is the first of its kind in English from a member of the hijra community.[62][63][64] She also acted,directed several stage plays on Gender and Sexuality issues in Tamil and Kannada."The Truth about Me: A Hijra Life Story" by Transgender A.Revathi[65] is part of the syllabus for Final Year students of The American College in Madurai. Later Naan Saravanan Alla" (2007) and Vidya's "I am Vidya" (2008) became first transwoman autobiography.[66][67]
Pakistan
The 1992 film Immaculate Conception[68] by Jamil Dehlavi is based upon the culture-clash between a western Jewish couple seeking fertility at a Karachi shrine known to be blessed by a Sufi fakir called 'Gulab Shah' and the group of Pakistani eunuchs who guard it.
Murad (which means desire; the English title was Eunuch's Motherhood), was an award winning biographical Telefilm drama made by Evergreen Media Europe for Pakistan's television channel Indus TV that aired in 2003. The cast had the country's top male television actors playing "hijras": Sohail Asghar, Nabeel, Qazi Wajid, Kamran Jilani. It was directed by Kamran Qureshi, written by Zafar Mairaj and produced by Iram Qureshi. It won both Best TeleFilm and Best Director awards at 2003 Indus Telefilm Festival.[69][70] The story revolves around "Saima", a trans woman, who adopts a helpless child "Murad" and her relationship with him against the backdrop of her struggling throughout her life and her "desire" for her son. She has sent him away to live at a hostel so she can earn a living as a dancer, after her son gets cross with her, due to teasing (verbal and sexual) they face while dancing. This was the first time that influential male actors came out to support "hijra" rights during interviews; noting that in Pakistani English at that time eunuch was the term to describe a transgender person, and "khwaja sara" (also khwaja sira) had not yet replaced what is now considered a derogatory term due to decades of heckling and name calling, "hijra".[71][72]
In 2004, Kamran Qureshi directed a trans drama, Moorat ("effigy," however, the English title was Eunuch's Wedding. It was produced by famous actor and producer Humayun Saeed and Abdullah Kadwani with more than a dozen star-studded cast members for a 33-episode series.[73][74] It was nominated for Best Drama Serial, Abid Ali for Best Actor, and Maria Wasti for Best Actress at the Lux Style Awards 2005.[69][75] The show was credited for making people understand the pain and abuse that khwaja sara (hijra) constantly endure when people make fun of the way they look or dress without knowing them or how they were naturally born this way. The story involves a young lady who is arranged to marry. It turns out her husband is transgender. The story unfolds trans community and their deprived and isolated world. It portrays eloquently how they, too, are not far away from the human emotions and feelings and their world not much different from the heterosexual community. Even though they are in plain sight, they are tthey are taboo subjects and are not taken seriously. This makes them suffer endlessly in silence wrapped in slurs. The 33-episode series therefore touches on transgender abuse, women abuse, poverty, immorality of arranged marriages, and child abuse.[76]
Bol (Urdu: بول meaning Speak), is a 2011 Urdu-language social drama Pakistani film. It concerns a patriarch, Hakim, who is a misogynist, a domestic abuser, a bigot, and a zealot who forces religion on his family. They face financial difficulties due to Hakim wanting a son. He rejects his transgender daughter, Saifi, as he wanted an heir and she identifies as a girl. Saifi is deeply loved by the rest of her family. As she grows up, men want to take advantage of her and she does not understand at first. However, her oldest sister intervenes and teaches Saifi about what kind of touching is inappropriate. As Saifi grows older, she is not allowed to leave the house. She finds her sister's dresses compelling and tries them on, revealing her gender identity. A neighbour played by famous South Asian singer Atif Aslam, who is in love with one of the sisters, gets Saifi a job at a place where they paint trucks, with the blessing of Saifi's sisters and mother. Saifi dresses like a boy; however, other boys sense her lack of self-esteem and eventually gang-rape her. She is saved when another transgender person, played by Almas Bobby (a transgender actor), finds her and takes her home. Hakim overhears Saifi telling her mother and Zainab what happened. When everybody is asleep, Hakim locks the room and suffocates his child for luring the men for the "shame" he would have to bear if the story got out.[77] It received several positive reviews from critics and went on to win the Best Hindi film award in IRDS Film awards 2011 by Institute for Research and Documentation in Social Sciences (IRDS).[78]
Outside South Asia
The novel Bombay Ice by Leslie Forbes features an important subplot involving the main character's investigation of the deaths of several hijra sex-workers.
The novel City of Djinns by William Dalrymple also features a chapter on hijras.
The novel A Son of the Circus by John Irving features a plot-line involving hijras.
In the graphic novel Habibi by Craig Thompson, the protagonist, Zam, is adopted by a group of hijras.
In the 2009 Brazilian soap opera Caminho das Índias (Portuguese: "The way to India"), hijras are shown in some occasions, especially at weddings and other ceremonies where they are paid for their blessing.
In the TV comedy Outsourced (2011), a hijra is hired by Charlie as a stripper for Rajiv's "bachelor party", much to Rajiv's utter horror.
A short film, under the direction of Jim Roberts, is being made by Rock Star Productions in which the protagonist is portrayed as a hijra. This film is set to be released on 1 May.[year needed][citation needed]
Kamran Ahmed Mirza is a popular gender performance artist in Oregon, United States.
Documentaries
Jareena, Portrait of a Hijda (1990)
Ladyboys (1992)
Bombay Eunuch (2001)
The Hijras: India's Third Gender (2001)
India's Ladyboys (2003)
Between the Lines: India's Third Gender (2005)
Middle Sexes (HBO documentary includes segment on modern Hijda) (2005)
Shabnam Mausi (2005)
The Hijras of India (BBC radio documentary)
Kiss the Moon (2009)
Call me Salma (2009)
Mohammed to Maya also titled Rites of Passage (2012)
Smuggling is understood to have prospered since Polperro developed as a port in the 12th century.[12] It reached its zenith in the late 18th century when Britain's wars with America and France precipated the high taxation of many imported goods, making it worthwhile for the local fishermen to boost their income by the covert importation of spirits, tobacco and other goods from Guernsey. Much of the success of the smuggling trade through Polperro is ascribed to the influence of Zephaniah Job (1749–1822), a local merchant who became known as "The Smuggler's Banker". A more organised Coast Guard service was introduced in the 19th century along with stiff penalties, and led to much less smuggling. Part of the South West Coast Path was originally used by Revenue Officers as they patrolled the coast in search of smugglers. Whilst the Coast Path is maintained by the National Trust, the foreshore belongs to the Duchy of Cornwall.
Chromatic decisions are better understood when viewed Large and on Black
Monterey County, CA
For the six word story group
History of Red Planet Day
Red Planet Day is celebrated on November 28 as it commemorates the launch of the Spacecraft Mariner 4 by NASA in 1964, which was the first craft to ever reach Mars. It took almost eight full months for the craft to reach the red planet, finally performing a fly-by on July 14, 1965.
The Mariner 4 spacecraft was designed to gain information in fly-by mode that allowed for planetary exploration and closeup scientific observations of the planet Mars, then transmitting the information back to humans on Earth.
Many things have been learned about Mars in the years since the space program has been able to gather information. For instance, it is now understood that, like Earth, the Red Planet has a terrain that is varied, including canyons, volcanoes, deserts, polar ice caps and seasons.
One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.
Lucius Annaeus Seneca
IMG_7092.jpgw.jpgq
"They wanted to make us believe that traveling was leisure time, when in reality it was time for life." Chano Sánchez.
Photography has allowed me to look at the world with new eyes continuously. The more I learn the more I want to continue learning, to continue photographing, to find new places and to return to those I already know and photograph them again but in a different way.
Shortly after I moved to Parma in 2014, I escaped as soon as I could to Le Cinque Terre. I had seen photos of these colorful fishing villages, but it was not until I had them before my eyes that I understood the fascination that they provoke to anyone that visit them. Once there I really knew that my first visit would conclude with this photograph of Manarola at blue hour. An image of such an incredible place could not miss in my portfolio.
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"Quisieron hacernos creer que viajar era tiempo de ocio, cuando en realidad era tiempo de vida." Chano Sánchez.
La fotografía me ha permitido mirar el mundo con ojos nuevos continuamente. Cuanto más aprendo más ganas tengo de seguir aprendiendo, de seguir fotografiando, de buscar nuevos lugares y de volver a los que ya conozco para fotografiarlos otra vez pero de un modo diferente.
Al poco tiempo de irme a vivir a Parma en 2014, me escapé en cuanto pude a Le Cinque Terre. Por más que había visto fotos de estos coloridos pueblos de pescadores, no fue hasta que los tuve ante mis ojos que entendí la fascinación que producen a todo aquel que tiene la suerte de visitarlos. Una vez allí tenía muy claro que mi primera visita concluiría con esta fotografía de Manarola a la hora azul. Una imagen de un lugar tan increíble no podía faltar en mi portafolio.
"Certain things can only be understood if we take the trouble to retrace their origins." José Saramago.
Not far from the Cais Palafítico de Carrasqueira, we find the town of Alcácer do Sal, a fantastic place to stay if you visit this area of the Alentejo. This town of just over 10,000 inhabitants, extends along the Sado River, which flows into the sea not far from here, in the most famous city of Setúbal. Alcácer do Sal, owes its name on the one hand to its role as a center of salt trade in Roman times, and on the other, to the construction of an important fortress (alcácer) during the Arab invasion of Portugal.
On our trip through Portugal, I decided to stay overnight, since access to the hotels in the town is relatively close to the road we came from that night after photographing Carrasqueira, in addition to having really fast access to continue our trip to Óbidos the following day. Of course, I decided to get up before dawn to capture the silhouette of part of the town on the river. The absence of wind allowed me to get a nice reflection, in addition to having a really spectacular sky before sunrise. I included the fishing boats and one of the footbridge on the river to transmit the essence of this place even better, in which if I had the opportunity to return one day, I would spend more time exploring the streets of its historical center.
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"Ciertas cosas pueden solo ser entendidas si nos preocupamos por rastrear sus orígenes." José Saramago.
No muy lejos del Puerto Palafítico de Carrasqueira, se encuentra el pueblo de Alcácer do Sal, un lugar fantástico para hospedarse si se visita esta zona del Alentejo. Esta localidad de poco más de 10000 habitantes, se extiende a lo largo del río Sado, el cual desemboca no muy lejos de aquí junto a la más famosa ciudad de Setúbal. Alcácer do Sal, debe su nombre por un lado a su papel como centro de comercio de sal en tiempos de los romanos, y por otro, a la construcción de una importante fortaleza (alcázar) en tiempos de la invasión árabe de Portugal.
En nuestro viaje por Portugal, decidí pernoctar aquí, ya que el acceso a los hoteles del pueblo está relativamente cerca de la carretera de la cual veníamos aquella noche tras fotografiar Carrasqueira, además de tener un acceso realmente rápido para continuar nuestro viaje hacia Óbidos el día siguiente. Por supuesto, decidí levantarme antes del amanecer para capturar la silueta de parte del pueblo sobre el río. La ausencia de viento me permitió conseguir un bonito reflejo, además de contar con un cielo realmente espectacular antes de la salida del sol. Incluir las barcas de pescadores y una de las pasarelas que hay sobre el río me pareció esencial para transmitir aún más la esencia de este lugar, al que si tengo la oportunidad de volver algún día, espero dedicar más tiempo para recorrer así las calles de su centro histórico.
Not so difficult once understood the trick, anyway a result possible only with your support, so THANKS A LOT TO ALL OF YOU!
1. tulipano, 2. Teatro Civico di Tortona, 3. angelo, 4. Teatro civico di Tortona (AL), 5. Racconigi, 6. dolce pasquetta, 7. The Abominable Snowman's daughter!, 8. I wish you a sweet easter,
9. fontana delle tartarughe, 10. Noi e Gorby, 11. scorci romani, 12. stazione centrale, Milano, 13. Stazione Centrale, Milano, 14. lucernai, 15. Milano, 16. Ebe,
17. croco, 18. tramonto a Basaluzzo, 19. la finestra sul cielo, 20. altare della patria, 21. in viaggio, 22. Il Vittoriano, 23. colosseo, 24. a sunny sky on the snow,
25. gruzzolo, 26. che poi.., 27. tris di cioccolati, 28. Teatro Eliseo, 29. maschera, 30. javier marin, 31. luna sul Vaticano, 32. fontana di trevi,
33. rialto, 34. il cielo su Lugano, 35. la fortuna di prendere il bus, 36. Lugano, 37. P, 38. natale a Venezia, 39. Sona (vr), 40. venezia,
41. Alessandria, 42. rialto, 43. lights!, 44. venezia, 45. happy new year!, 46. un nebbioso canaletto, 47. venezia, 48. Piazza Garibaldi vestita a festa,
49. pomodori, 50. venetian, 51. sul vaporetto, 52. solitudine, 53. auguri! best wishes!, 54. inusual venice, 55. birra, 56. Venezia,
57. osteria dal ponte, 58. allegria, 59. Isola San Giulio, 60. sull'orlo della sera, 61. Solvay Solexis, 62. lago d'Orta, 63. isola san giulio, 64. winter view,
65. isola san giulio, 66. celle, 67. snowy sunset, 68. arnaldo pomodoro, 69. Arnaldo Pomodoro a Orta San Giulio, 70. edicola affrescata, 71. scorcio, 72. ciclamini
73. love me fender, 74. fili d'erba, 75. elettrocitta', 76. in the mist, 77. crisantemi, 78. la boheme, 79. 'o babbasone, 80. Ciclamini,
81. stati d'animo, 82. Betty Boop, 83. semaforo rosso, 84. leone, 85. nebbia, 86. tramonto, 87. mollette multicolor, 88. accendini,
89. gialla, 90. luce d'autunno, 91. foliage, 92. scorcio romantico, 93. cicogne, 94. fuochi d'artificio, 95. sauternes, 96. cielo,
97. St Agricole, 98. archi e contrafforti, 99. attraverso una monofora
XA1415 understood to be on the Albany freighter through South Guildford in January 1977. Photo: Jim Bisdee.
I have never understood the stress before Christmas. I have never baked, washed, bought gifts, sent Christmas letters, brought home the food, nor the tree nor any of the other things people speak about. Still my home is filled with the Chritmas feel and blessings when Christmas Eve arrives. The tree is decorated, and full of gifts underneath. And the smell from the kitchen is amazing!! What my wife is doing is a mystery though, I have seen very little of her lately.
So I should have had a lot of time to get around to your Flickr streams to wish you all a Merry Christmas. I guess I am only plain lazy, because I didn't do it. And now is the wonderful Christmas dinner soon readdy, and then we have to go to the barn for some three hours and then there is the opening of the gifts... So I think I have to wish you all a Merry Christmas this way, and promise to try to get around to you during the holiday.
This is the last of my night photos, the centre of our village called Mundal. The photo is a bit blurred, I am afraid I missed on something here. But it will have to do as an illustration to this Christmas greeting.
There are a coupple of more pictures in the first comment.
Tomorrow is the world ME day. A poorly understood illness. Hoping research will soon understand a bit better the mechanisms leading to it, and eventually find a cure, or a way to prevent it.
I apologize if my joke title is lame...
Pour la journée mondiale de la fibromyalgie, en espérant que la recherche ne tardera pas à en comprendre les mécanismes et trouvera bientôt un moyen de la traiter ou de la prévenir.
Smile on saturday theme "blue for you, ME 2019"
129/365
Life is best understood NOT when you are having fun all the time, but when you are struggling in it. Although even so, you should find self-happiness, at any time, even when climbing in vertical. Does it matter if you climb up or climb down, or living fast or slow? In the spiral of life, the most important is you know your reason and stick with it. Stick with the one you dear of and passion about.
I'm not entirely sure that I've understood it correctly, but I believe that the pigs are owned by someone. It's also clear, though, that they basically run wild, foraging on food -- mostly garbage -- wherever they can find it. Unlike cows, which are protected, pigs are eaten. The result is that they are extremely skittish -- every time I've even remotely tried to move closer they will run for the hills. I've never seen a pig like these ones, so I'll have to look around for information.
Le nom coquelicot vient en fait du mot « coquerico » qui désigne comme vous l’avez sans doute compris : le coq. En effet, il s’agit ici d’une métaphore entre la couleur de la fleur de coquelicot et celle de la crête du coq.
The name poppy actually comes from the word "coquerico" which means as you probably understood: the rooster. Indeed, this is a metaphor between the color of the poppy flower and that of the crest of the rooster.
I understood at a very early age that in nature, I felt everything I should feel in church but never did. Walking in the woods, I felt in touch with the universe and with the spirit of the universe.
~Alice Walker
No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath... We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it? [from Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller]
the Sassi in Matera, Basilicata, Italy
All lovely words
when understood
All so misconstrued
silence envelopes our delusions....
Read the rest and grab the event and designer info on Threads & Tuneage
Taken on Ippos
Love SL photography and looking for like minded artists or places to shoot? Come visit the Ippos Collective: 4 Picturesque SIMS to visit and/or settle. Come for the magic....stay for the friends. <3
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Never quite understood the connection between buttons and cute...but have heard it said my whole life. so who am I to question?
“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”
― Søren Kierkegaard
“Reflect upon your present blessings -- of which every man has many -- not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”
-Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
"The way we experience the world around us is a direct reflection of the world within us".
-Gabrielle Bernstein
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Candid street shot.
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Audi R8, if you understood the title, but i I was going to use it as my facebook timeline picture. I left room on the right to work with. I like rain a lot, so it's fun photographing wet cars. It looks a lot better on black, just saying.
Cut off from the sea by the suspicious port authorities in Shanghai it seemed that the only way I was going to get out of China was overland. This was my ticket.
In Shanghai I had inquired of every traveler I met about the path ahead of me. I had heard tales of this magnificent and exotic railway adventure before... they called it the greatest railway journey on earth. The longest stretch of steel rail ever layed.
An Australian traveller named Mark told me that he had heard that there was a guy in Beijing who could get me a ticket.
I asked Mark how I could find this guy in Beijing. He said just go there and ask for 'The Crocodile.' Just go to a city of some ten million souls and ask for 'The Crocodile'? It sounded almost insane to me.
Ditching Mark after he made moves on my Chinese girlfriend and ditching my Chinese girlfriend after she got all worked up when a soldier who was following me took a picture of us together on the riverfront... I understood her fear in that time of Tienenmen Square and I knew it was time once again to get moving. It was time to move north to Beijing... the city they once called Peking.
Tsu Tsu Mei was a nice girl. She had told me to call her Eleanor... because that was what she called her 'American name.' I couldn't do it because she just didn't look like an Eleanor to me... I always called her Tsu Tsu Mei. And I think that she really liked that I did... it would have been easier to call her Eleanor I'm sure... but each time I called her 'Tsu Tsu Mei' she gave me this look... it started with a big warm vulnerable smile that made it seem to me that she was melting inside with warm thoughts and shaking knees.
That look always made me want to scoop her up in my arms and give her the same feelings right back. Whenever I said her name and got that look... it just kind of summed everything up right there in that moment. I really liked that. Sometimes I wished that it had gone farther but the way it ended is why I have the memories I do... and I hope she does too... we never hurt each other... never not once... it was the hard and cold government of an opressive authoritarian regime that broke both of our hearts there in Shanghai. It wasn't either of us... it wasn't our fault.
I was with Mark the Australian when I met Tsu Tsu Mei... we were tooling around Shanghai and we had just gotten on the bus after a tour of the Shanghai Waterpipe Factory Number Seven where I had just purchased a fine example of a brass opium waterpipe. We had seen the place while riding the bus and jumped off... the factory was really happy to have foreigners tour the place. I couldn't believe that there were at least six other water bong factories in Shanghai. Somehow we had found the seventh.
As foreigners we were pretty much used to talking in english right in front of people knowing full well that they couldn't follow our conversation... especially the slang riddled prose we frequently used. When Tsu Tsu Mei got on the bus and stood next to me I turned to Mark and said "man she is the most beautiful Chinese woman I have ever seen."
Before Mark could agree... Tsu Tsu Mei let me know that she appreciated the compliment... she smiled and said "thank you" in perfect english.
Shocked that my subterfuge was exposed at first I was a little embarassed... until Mark took that half of a second to start in on her. No way I thought... I was the one who paid the compliment... I was going to be putting the moves on Tsu Tsu Mei. I'm not sure Australian guys understand the concept of a good 'wing man' but Mark sure had some learnin' to do. He needed to watch the movie 'Top Gun' and take some notes.
Tsu Tsu Mei and I arranged to meet later that night in downtown Shanghai and proceeded to become great friends. She even took me to meet her parents... Norman Tsu... the first deaf technical drafting instructor in all of China and his 'deaf wife Janie.'
Tsu Tsu Mei's father Norman was sent to the United States to study technical drafting in the fifties. He went to Gaudellet University and he confided in me that he really liked it... that he didn't want to come back to China... he stopped writing home and corresponding with the government... he wanted to drift away... but they corralled his mother who was a widow by this time... and they made her write Norman a letter that made it really clear that it was in her best interests that Norman return to China. That's how China got its first deaf technical drafting instructor. Or how they got him back.
Norman always referred to his wife as 'My deaf wife.' Both of them were deaf and we passed notes to each other over a marvellous dinner... while Tsu tsu Mei just kept smiling at me and at her parents... unbelievable food Normans deaf wife cooked. It was a feast... and not the Chinese food I was used to... this was exotic and unknown to me. The Tsu's really went out and they've been in my thoughts many times since then.
The Tsu family was really good to me and things were moving right along with Tsu Tsu Mei too until that soldier decided that he'd turn our little hand holding session on the Shanghai riverfrint into a Kodak moment. I had seen that guy following me before... he was the tallest Chinaman I'd ever seen... a full head above the rest of the general population. I found great amusement in shagging him... going into a store and going out the back door. It was really like a game. Still... he always found me... he was on me for days there in Shanghai. And after he took that picture I realized that my company with Tsu Tsu Mei wasn't looked upon favorably by the authorities. She was terrified of the repurcussions. I knew that was it... I wasn't going to get her or her family inot any trouble. I was going to get out of Shanghai.
I purchased a train ticket on a sleeper train for the seventeen hour ride from Shanghai to Beijing. How was it that I could go to a city the size of Beijing almost a thousand miles to the north and find this man called 'The Crocodile' simply by asking? It seemed completely insane... but such was the world I found myself in this year... for me, 1990 was the year of living insanely.
After seventeen hours of watching China slide by through the window accompanied by the soundtrack of nonstop kung fu videos on the train's television sets, I stepped off the carriage in Beijing, China's capital city. Which was a godsend because I could not have taken one more of those videos. The Chinese truly love them... they must be a part of their national identity... the way that the Japanese love Godzilla. Godzilla was a mechanism that helped the Japanese to cope with their loss of World War Two and the painful shock of getting Nuked twice. Even though Godzilla always stomps their cities to pieces they always triumph. It's like a morality tale with them.
When I was living in Osaka someone who worked in the studio that made the Godzilla movies decided to borrow the costume and wear it to a party where he caused it to be damaged to the tune of a hundred and seventy five thousand dollars. I wish I was at that party. Hanging out with the Nigerians. That would have been epic.
The first european looking guy I saw in Beijing... I stopped him as was my custom in the orient and inquired of the conditions and opportunities there in this new city. Blonde hair in China or Japan had always meant 'help desk' to me. We vagabonds and adventurers always stuck together and usually became instant friends as long as there wasn't a woman involved.
Then I asked him if he had ever heard of 'The Crocodile.'
He said that he would take me to see him right now. Right then. Right there. Unbelievable. I'm not kidding. No shit. I couldn't believe it either.
I had found 'The Crocodile.'
The man walked me to a hotel a few blocks away from the railroad station. It was an old building that looked straight out of the 1920's, like just about every other building in Beijing. You could see that it was really beautiful at one time... maybe even opulent or exclusive... but it, like anything else that was once beautiful or opulent, it seemed to fall into despair and decay under the custodianship of the communists. That was the way pretty much all of Beijing looked. With brown air and trees and bushes that were different from all those I had even known. I always notice the trees and bushes in a new city. Here on the other side of the world the plant life and the vegetation was odd to me... just unusual enough to stick out in my mind.
The man knocked on the door and we were answered by a nice looking blonde woman on her early twenties. She looked kind of pissed off but invited us in still. My guide just turned around and left with little more than a gesture to the woman. I followed her into the room.
It had become a bit of a self entertainment for me to wonder why the man I was seeking should be called "The Crocodile." It intrigued me from the moment I had heard it and in my mind I came up with all sorts of reasons for the nickname. None of them pleasant.
The room was an illustration in contrasts... inside "The Crocodile" had rented two rooms... he knocked down the wall that had seperated them and completely remolded it. This guy was livin' cush. He sat on the edge of his bed playing with the tv remote control as if it had befuddled him... I could tell from body language that his girlfriend and he had just been fighting.
"The Crocodile" stood up and turned around to face me... the guy must have been six and a half feet tall... and immediately I could see why they called him "The Crocodile."
He wore these braces on his teeth... the largest mass of metal I've ever seen in a persons mouth. Communist braces aren't very pretty... but these... "The Crocodiles" mouth looked like it had been installed by a blacksmith... an angry, drunken blacksmith. Like hammered bars of hot metal hand forged around each of his teeth.
I had to make myself stop staring as he got right down to business. Croc asked me when I wanted to leave... he said he had one ticket and he wanted a hundred and ten bucks American for it. There'd be no negotiating I could tell that right away. I had a feeling that if I tried that he'd have just relieved me of all my dough right there. Probably my gear too.
We were in a bit of a funny situation for a couple of reasons... I thought the ticket looked fake... it looked worse than some of the permits and passes I'd forged in school. I didn't have a visa to enter Russia... and I didn't carry that kind of currency in US dollars. I wasn't too sure that the Russians would actually be too excited about me coming to their country either. When I expressed this to "The Crocodile" he laughed a powerful and boisterous laugh and told me not to worry about it... he'd just gimme the ticket on good faith... so I could try and get a visa and cash a travellers check or something to come up with the Dollars he wanted. Besides he said "I know where your seat is and when you'll be leaving and if you fuck me I'll kill you" after which he laughed another deep laugh and gave me a half hug. "I want my money by next week he said." and walked me to the door where he said goodbye and his girlfriend gave me another dirty look.
That was it. Absolutely fucking unbelievable. I'm in Beijing less than two hours and I found my guy and I got my ticket. Now I just needed a visa from the Soviet Consulate. He'd also tell me there if the ticket was real I figured.
But right now I needed a place to stay. That would have to be my first order of business. The Croc's hotel seemed a little too luxurious for my budget... I needed something 'dumpier.' Something where my kind'd fit in you know?
I walked out of the hotel and on to the street... pausing for a moment to take a breath of the sulfery yellow tinged air and feel the pulse of the street there...a moment to let the vibe of it all sink in. I could have gone left or I could have gone right but it really didn't matter because I had no idea where I was going anyway. It's like a rule with me... like walking on the upwind side of the street because that's where all the paper money blows. Go left.
My friend Joel... the guy who'd saved my ass from the knife weilding Yakuza that pressed certain death into my throat in that bar in Osaka... he told me that he went insane and that he would hear these voices in his head that always said the same thing... "look to the left Joel." If he wasn't crazy already he said that those voices would do it... he never understood the meaning of it. Stupid voices in your head... they never tell you anything good... like "stay away from that one... she's trouble." They're always all cryptic. You gotta try to figure them out and break the code. Joel said the lithium they gave him pretty much shut the voices down. I never had heard voices though. It would probably be fun for a day or two... just to see what they would say. I think if I had voices they would sound like Vincent Price on LSD.
So I went left after I walked out of the Crocodile's hotel. I usually always go left when I got no idea but this time I was especially glad I did.
I get about a block and right there smack dab... badda bing... I run into this guy I lived with in Osaka Japan... Mike Levine... a Jewish guy from Jersey. He had let me borrow a pair of his shoes because I could find any in my size in Japan. Mike's got this big smile on his face as he sees me... we hug and slap each others backs and talk about the fight that got me thrown out of the university in Japan that we both went to.
Mike gave me directions to a suitably dumpy hotel and we parted ways.
Walking down the street I saw a couple of American girls... who turned out to be two really granola looking lesbian backpackers from Nebraska.
I stopped them there and asked them where they were staying... they said they had no idea... I invited them to share a hotel room with me if we could find one... plus the thought of girl on girl action sounded like really good fun to me. I felt like I was really going to like Beijing. It seemed like an easy city. Things were looking good.
Was this my lucky day or what?
Shit, I been here for like two hours... I already met the guy I came to meet, had a ticket for the Trans Siberian, hooked up with two lesbians and there we found a three dollar a night hotel. Six yuan a night for each of us. What more greatness could god bestow on me? Another lesbian? A blind supermodel? That would just be asking too much I thought. Lady Luck, I've always said, she was indeed a friend of mine.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth they say... so I unpacked my gear in the hotel room... every bit of it... and spread it all around. I always unpack fully so if I get robbed they can't just take one bag and split... they gotta work for it... then I unscrew all the lightbulbs in the room so they gotta have a flashlight to do it well... and then I make some loud noise making booby trap... like a pyramid of empty beer cans behind the door... then they gotta have nerves of steel to finish the job. Never got robbed once. Never. I have come home more than a few times affected by some intoxicant or another and fallen vicim to my own booby traps though. It always scared the beejesus out of me.
The Nebraska lesbians unpacked too.
Time to get out of here... It was time to go have a look at Beijing.
I left the hotel in a hurry and jumped on the first bus I saw... it didn't matter where the bus was going...I didn't care... I was sure that I hadn't been there anyway. That's the great thing about exploring like that. A new city... just go anywhere. It's all new.
Sitting on the bus I was of course the only westerner riding it. The Chinese weren't as polite as the Japanese and they would just stare at you forever... sometimes with mouth agape even... and I found myself very much the center of attention... the center of attention was something I really didn't want to be. I kinda wanted to blend in really. That was going to be tough.
I started having what could only be described as auditory hallucinations on that bus... that happened alot to me in China... but right there it was bad... the cacaphony of Chinese voices started to filter itself out in my hyperactive mind and become english... I could understand things sometimes... I was certain that people were commenting on how intoxicated I was... they all knew it... they were all talking about me... looking at me... 'Is that American guy drunk out of his gourd or what?' I had to get off that bus. The sweat was pouring from my pores. It was getting to be more than uncomfortable... it was unbearable.
The next stop was my stop no matter where it might be... soon as it stopped I jumped off that bus so fast... I didn't even have a clue as to where I was... and I didn't care. Away from that hash house hotel and off of that bus...I just wanted my own little piece of contraband free real estate where I could sit and watch China go by and make amusing comments in my head to entertain myself.
This was my stop.
Before me was layed an enormous plaza... I had never seen such a large paved public space. It was gigantic enough it looked like you could lay down and land a 747 in it if you went from one corner to the next. It was so big and vast that the smog of Beijing obscured the other side of it from me. I didn't know what this place was, but it made me feel realy small... insignificant actually... which was precisely how I wanted to feel.
I stood at Tienenmen Square.
This was the old Beijing... the one that used to be before the extremely systematic exploitation of cheap labor turned the place into a giant pachinko parlor... this was the dirty, dusty and gritty beijing where products were pulled around on wagons by teams of horses who shit big piles in the streets that you'd go straight over the handlebars of your bicycle if you didn't look where you were going. I'd seen it.
This was the Beijing where the streets seemed impossibly large considering no one really owned a car... the Beijing where the old people all wore those navy blue or black or gray kung fu outfits and walked around stooping with their hands clasped behind their backs as if some ultimate power had ordered them to for all time.
This was the square in Beijing where less than a year had passed since thousands of students took a chance to try and change their world... this was the Beijing where tanks had rolled over them without mercy and their bodies were torn apart by the callousness of lead flying around at ballisticly high speeds and cruel random trajectories. This was the Beijing where their blood ran like rivers down the curbs and into the sewers where like the extinguishing of their tender lives for naught all was soon forgotten by a world more infatuated with its demand for cheap consumer electronics in attractive clamshell packaging.
The one year anniversary of the slaughter was approaching and here as if by accident I find myself in the place where history was made and so conveniently forgotten.
Here and there I could still see bullet scars, burns and other marks that told the tale of a failed movement killed in a single night of murderous debauchery.
It was eerie in Beijing. I couldn't put my finger on it. Was it just the intoxicant's influence? I couldn't place it until I found a nice grassy place to sit down and let everything stabilize. Let my altered mind stop spinning.
The young people were all gone.
The government had sent what looked like the entire youth of the capitol city to 'summer camp,' where they'd sing patriotic songs and watch lots of motivational films and learn the error of their ways. It was re-education for the entire young population... there was almost no one walking around that city bettween the age of fourteen and twenty one. It was spooky... strange mojo in a strange land. Like some kind of Twilight Zone episode.
Everybody's seen the picture of 'Tank Man,' that guy whose name the world doesn't know... the one who was walking home from the grocery store with a couple of plastic bags in his hands... the guy who became a lonely human roadblock for a column of tanks... I know I could never forget that guy... he had balls the size of watermelons that one. I woudda love to have bought that guy a drink or eight.
I was walking down that street and a momentary sense of deja vu made me stop... It felt like I'd been there before... it didn't take too long for the reality to hit me... I was standing in that spot. In the Tank Man's spot. The premonition came from looking at that photograph.
There was a pay phone there... on the side of the street... you can see it in the Tank Man picture... I thought my parents might like to know where in the world I was so I tried to call them from it without luck. Maybe they'd think it was cool that I was calling them from there I thought.
I wanted to feel the scene out... I wanted to let it all sink in a little bit so I sat down and I had a look around. It all began to unfold in my mind... the direction the tanks came from... the sounds they'd make... their squeaking tracks rolling on the asphalt echoing in the canyon of concrete buildings... I could see the crosswalk he was walking across when it happened.
I stood up, still painting the scene on the canvas of my mind with the brushes of my imagination and I walked towards the crosswalk... just as he did that remarkable day.
Man... sometimes even I have a hard time putting things into words... sometimes feelings, emotions and perceptions are just too powerful and swift to get a grasp on.
Surveying the scene where this historic collision happened from the street... it was so much different than the picture we all know... that was shot from high above... it's got a whole different tone than the lonliness and isolation that the street level offered. Just like in the square where I had felt so small... even the street there was massive in width... one of those subcompact cars flying through the smog could have crushed me like a bug. The thought of standing my ground in front of a column of many ton armored tanks with their diesel engines shaking and belching thick black smoke and rumbling in anger... I'll tell you this... with the greatest respect that I can muster... that guy... at that moment... he took on the entire world. He was a bad ass motherfucker who said 'hey... I don't like what's going down here.' and he backed it up with his hundred and fifty pound body alone in the streets. He never even put those grocery bags down. But for a moment, that man stopped the world. He stood his ground. He stood our ground. He stood for everyman that day.
I didn't.
I didn't even chance stopping where he did. I didn't want to stop a bus.
When I got across the street I walked back towards Tienenmen Square wondering what happened to the guy.
These thoughts were crisply punctuated when I found the remains of a completely flattened bicycle. It had been run over by something pretty heavy because it was as flat as a bicycle could conceivably become. It even had a curve to it... a lot of parts were gone but the frame, the handlebars, even the rims were crushed flat. I picked it up, still thinking about Tank Man and I realized what it meant.
Something inside me wanted to take it home... to show my people... people born and raised with a freedom fought for by others... I wanted to show them what we pretty much let happen here... the great crime that we ignored. It was a strong symbol to me at least of an oppresive government that lost it's temper on it's own people.
I'd never get that flattened bicycle home, but I carried stashed inside the tubes of my backpack messages that people had asked me to carry out of the country to a place where mistakenly so they thought good and decent people might give two shits about the treachery bestowed upon them in their quest for what we have but could really care less about. A freedom so strong... a freedom so deep that it was a part of me wether I was conscious about it or not... a freedom that formed the person I was and carried me on a long and mostly accidental journey to a place where youth was cut short for having the audacity and lack of patience to demand a more tolerant society where people would count for just a little more than cheap labor.
I promised myself I'd remember what happened to them. I promised myself that on June 4th, 1990 that I'd say a prayer there in Tienenmen Square. I'd recognize their martyrdom to the cause of freedom and I'd pay my respects on the anniversary of the barbarism of their all powerful and vicious central authority.
When that morning came with its sultry brownish orange sunrise, three hundred and sixty five days after the blood letting, when the flag of a nation was raised over it's most proud square... I was the only person that wasn't Chinese standing there as a witness to at least offer the the quiet contempt of my heart and the objection of my soul as a counterbalance to the disgrace of the murder of these children.
There were no television cameras or satellite trucks... no journalists fixing their hair or taking notes on those long pads that they carry. Nothing.
I carried no sign or banner... I spoke no message of objection. I sought to instigate nothing.
I stood there in Tienenmen Square as a witness.
A witness to what the rest of the free world was so selfishly quick to forget.
Two days later I'd board a train that I'd get off of in another world... where a wall that represented hate and anger and mistrust would be falling, hacked to pieces bit by bit by a people celebrating a new freedom and unity.
Huh??? Synecdoche - where a part can be understood to represent a whole. This is the spiral binding of my Vitamix cookbook. This shot was harder than it looks!
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London | Architecture | Night Photography
Some moody clouds over the London Westminster Bridge, just before a rain fall...
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Westminster Bridge is a road and foot traffic bridge over the River Thames between Westminster, Middlesex bank, and Lambeth, Surrey bank in what is now Greater London, England.
For over 600 years, the nearest bridge to London Bridge was at Kingston. Proposals for a bridge at Westminster had been made as early as 1664. These were opposed by the Corporation of London and the watermen. Despite further opposition in 1722 and after a new timber bridge was built at Putney in 1729, the scheme received parliamentary approval in 1736. Financed by private capital, lotteries and grants, Westminster Bridge, designed by the Swiss architect Charles Labelye, was built between 1739-1750.
The City of London responded to Westminster Bridge by removing the buildings on London Bridge and widening it in 1760-63. The City also commenced work on the Blackfriars Bridge, which opened in 1769. Other bridges from that time include Kew Bridge (1759), Battersea Bridge (1773), and Richmond Bridge (1777).
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Westminster_Bridge
A city is a relatively large and permanent settlement.[1][2] Although there is no agreement on how a city is distinguished from a town within general English language meanings, many cities have a particular administrative, legal, or historical status based on local law.
For example, an article of incorporation approved by the local state legislature distinguishes a city government from a town in Massachusetts. In the United Kingdom and parts of the Commonwealth of Nations, a city is traditionally a settlement with a royal charter.[1] Historically, in Europe, a city was understood to be an urban settlement with a cathedral.
Cities generally have advanced systems for sanitation, utilities, land usage, housing, and transportation. The concentration of development greatly facilitates interaction between people and businesses, benefiting both parties in the process. A big city or metropolis usually has associated suburbs and exurbs. Such cities are usually associated with metropolitan areas and urban areas, creating numerous business commuters traveling to urban centers of employment. Once a city expands far enough to reach another city, this region can be deemed a conurbation or megalopolis.
London City: The Calm before the Storm
Questo gabbiano ha capito che la plastica è pericolosa per l'ambiente, ma siccome galleggia puo essere utilizzata per riposarsi.
This seagull has understood that plastic is dangerous for the environment, but since it floats it can be used to rest.
Following the Civil War Lincoln understood that it was a matter of time before Confederate assassins caught up with him. With the aid of only a handful of loyal men his assassination was faked allowing him to escape out west where he shaved off his beard and took up the life of a cowboy. He passed away many years later in peace and when his days finally did come to an end he died knowing that he had kept a great nation together. Now if you're going to believe any conspiracy theory (and I hope you don't) at least believe in one that has a happy ending.
Photo | Stable Diffusion | Photoshop
An original story by Geoffrey Piltz copyright 2023
Balgrain is an ancient house. Of the many stories of those who have lived in it, the most well known and strangest is the tale of the Black Hound.
In 1765 Margaret Borthwick was heiress to the Balgrain estate. She had been orphaned at seven when father was killed in a hunting accident, her mother having died soon after her birth. Her father’s sister and husband became her guardians and raised Margaret as a daughter, their two sons becoming as brothers to her.
As heiress to a considerable estate many men courted her. The older were turned away by Margaret herself, and the younger by her guardians, concerned as they were to protect her from mere fortune hunters. Although Margaret understood their reasons for each rejection, and it did not embitter her towards her aunt and uncle, she became, like most young women of the time, increasing anxious for a husband as the time of her majority, when she could wed whom she chose, approached.
Finally her twenty-first arrived and she entered into her inheritance. Balgrain House, which had been kept in repair for her by a small staff, saw full life again for the first time in fourteen years to host a grand ball in celebration of her birthday and her new status as the Lady Balgrain.
All the gentry of the surrounding countryside and relatives and friends from farther afield attended the gala. Among them came an Irish adventurer by the name of Edward Powers who was staying in the vicinity as a guest of a distant neighbour. He was, as in all the best romances, tall, dark and handsome, and Margaret, longing as she was for a husband, was irresistibly attracted to him, and before the evening ended had convinced herself that she was wildly in love with this stranger.
Handsome, with impeccable manners, conversation and deportment, Powers’ only slight defect, readily overlooked, was his odd eyes - the right one was blue and the left hazel. His hosts, the distant neighbours, believed that he was of the great Powers family of Wicklow. Accepting this Margaret, now being of age, married Powers inside three months against her adoptive family’s advice and wishes.
Powers’ true position and nature showed immediately. His position was that he was of lowly birth, penniless and lived by gambling and sponging off his hosts as he moved from one country house party to another. He was by nature a wastrel. When he learnt that the Balgrain house and estate were entailed so that he could not sell or raise money on the real property, and that fourteen years of estate income had been invested in irredeemable 3% Government annuities, he became livid with anger and railed against his wife for entrapping him into poverty! After running through Margaret’s ready money in a mere three months he began drinking to excess and was frequently drunk and violent, striking servants with no provocation. He held wild late night drinking bouts at the house accompanied by low-life companions found in local ale houses. The only check to his actions came when following a drunken diatribe against his wife he actually struck her. Her cousins on hearing of this openly threatened him with a public horse whipping if it happened again. The vehemence of their language and the violence of their demeanour caused him to break off all association with Margaret so that they occupied separate parts of the house and ceased to even see or talk to each other.
Margaret and Powers had only been married for four months when the night of Powers’ disappearance, or transformation, came. One morning after a late night filled with loud sounds from Powers’ side of the house - sounds of drunken carousing, slamming doors, shouting and a dog’s barking - a house maid had tentatively and timidly opened the door to Powers’ drawing room to see a dark figure asleep in the shadow beneath the table. This was not unusual and the maid had started to quietly clean up the room when the figure awoke and crawled from under the table. At this the maid fled screaming.
The maid’s cries brought other servants and then Margaret to the drawing room door. The maid was almost incoherent and the only sense that could be had from her was that “drink had turned the master into a beast”. Fearful of what Powers may have done two man servants, followed by Margaret, cautiously entered the room to see that its only occupant was a large black dog. Puzzled surprise turned to astonishment as the dog stood up on its hind legs and walked towards Margaret looking directly into her eyes with its own, one blue and one brown. Stunned, Margaret uttered a faint sound and collapsed insensible upon the floor.
On acquaintance the dog proved friendly and amiable, unlike Powers, and, apart from a desire for beer which he would beg for on his hind legs whenever he saw a tankard, he had no vices. All agreed that he was much to be preferred to Powers. He was christened “Master” and took Powers’ place as faithful companion to Margaret and guardian of Balgrain, duties he discharged faithfully for many years.
Of Powers the man no trace was ever found and no report of him ever came from distant places. Opinion became equally divided between those who believed that he had been turned into a dog by some enchantment or curse and those who simply saw the thing as an insoluble mystery. No mystery is insoluble, in full or part, however, if only those with some knowledge of the matter can be found. One such person appeared seven years later, the year that “Master” died, Powers was declared legally dead and Margaret remarried.
An itinerant came into the area earning money by exhibiting at local fairs and inns a large brown dog that walked on its hind legs and drank beer. This naturally aroused the interest and curiosity of the people, for all were familiar with the story of the Black Hound, and the showman was brought before the magistrate. Here he told this story.
Seven years previously the showman had come north bringing with him a trained black dog. On a light summer’s evening he met on the road a tall, dark gentleman with one blue and one brown eye who was a little drunk. The gentleman was greatly taken with the dog, for like him it drank, was dark haired and had the same odd eyes, and the gentleman insisted on buying the animal. The showman did not want to sell his livelihood but was unwilling to resist a social superior who could make trouble for him so the sale was made. He then followed the gentleman home hoping to steal back the dog and witnessed a violent incident. Two young men rode up to the door of the house and knocked loudly calling for Powers. After some time Powers suddenly threw open the door, stuck a pistol into the stomach of one of the callers and pulled the trigger. Fortunately for the young man the pistol flashed in the pan without firing. The other young man then struck Powers violently on the head knocking him to the ground. The young men rode off, both on one horse leading the other horse with Powers’ body on it. The showman fled in great fear and had never been north again in seven years.
While this solved the mystery of the appearance of the Black Hound the matter of Powers’ disappearance remained unresolved. Suspicion naturally fell upon Margaret’s cousins but on the showman’s evidence the blow to Powers’ head could be claimed to be justifiable, his body had never been found and he was now legally dead. So to the satisfaction and approval of all it was decided to let sleeping dogs lie.
The Phoenix
Flying between the desert and the sea, the phoenix saw a campfire in the distance. Then she understood that the time of the great test had come. She had to trust and abandon herself calmly to her destiny.
She hovered solemnly in the air, with firm and tense wings, then, with large wheels, she began to descend.
It was larger than all the eagles, and more beautiful, due to the vivid plumage of a thousand colors.
When she was over the bivouac fire she felt the flame lick her feathers and, true to herself, she let herself fall onto the fire.
But when the fire went out, a small blue flame emerged from the pile of ashes, wavered in the air, rose high, opening up as if it had wings.
She was the Phoenix that was reborn from her ashes to live in the sky for another five hundred years.
La fenice
Volando tra il deserto e il mare, la fenice scorse in lontananza il fuoco di un bivacco. Allora capì che il tempo della grande prova era giunto. Doveva aver fiducia ed abbandonarsi tranquilla al suo destino.
Si librò solenne nell'aria, ad ali ferme e tese, poi, con larghe ruote, incominciò a scendere.
Era più grande di tutte le aquile, e più bella, per il vivido piumaggio di mille colori.
Quando fu sopra al fuoco del bivacco sentì la fiamma lambirle le piume e, fedele a se stessa, si lasciò cadere sul rogo.
Ma quando il fuoco si spense, dal mucchio delle ceneri si sprigionò una fiammella azzurra, ondeggiò nell'aria, si levò in alto aprendosi come se avesse le ali.
Era la fenice che rinasceva dalle sue ceneri per vivere nel cielo altri cinquecento anni.
Leonardo da Vinci, Favole e Indovinelli. Giunti Editore. Collana Favolosa. Finito di stampare nel mese di maggio 1997.
lettoriletto.it/products/lb-favole-e-indovinelli-leonardo...
a beautiful place some 40 kms from Trivandrum towards Palode n take deviation from Palode to Mangayam waterfalls. well maintained under Eco development project, lots of butteflies, dragonflies n insect life n reptiles including snakes, apart from beautiful scenery . u can even plan a family trip n there's seperate place for women for bathing if that's de choice.
we reached there accidentally due to our chief navigator slept deeply but still without our knowledge he directed us from his dreams n finally when we reached Palode, we understood that we were wrongly guided n found him sleeping like an Infant :D foolish US.
May 9, in St. Petersburg, I started shooting fireworks, with hands, without a tripod, I could not take too long exposure and understood that I would not achieve the desired result. But how surprised I was when people appeared on the roof !!! I was told that this is now a popular adventure - Walking on the roofs! As explained to me later, such tours of the roofs have recently become very popular, especially in the days of salutes.
Not waiting for the end of the salute, I began to view the pictures on the screen of the camera. He looked at me with his burning eyes and I immediately realized that this was some kind of accident or mysticism, but the outline of some Monster was clearly visible! What was it?? Accident or mysticism, a warning or a sign from above? I have no answer.
Гулять по крышам
Я давно мечтала побывать в России именно на праздновании Дня Победы 9 Мая. И в этом году мне удалось прилететь в Санкт Петербург на праздничные каникулы.
Завершением этого дня должен быть салют. У меня много знакомых фотографов из Санкт Петербурга, которые тоже делали репортаж со Дня Победы и вечером собирались фотографировать салют. Меня тоже приглашали, потому, что они знают самые хорошие места и точку съёмки для таких мероприятий. Но я, не люблю носить тяжести и всегда путешествую без штатива. Я понимала, что снимать салют нужно только длинной выдержкой и поэтому решила вечером просто отдохнуть где-нибудь в кафе.
Мне сказали, что есть прекрасный ресторан, где можно хорошо провести вечер, откуда можно увидеть салют выше крыш домов. Я с удовольствием приняла это предложение и сложила всю апаратуру в рюкзак. Настроение у всех было праздничное, в ресторане небыло свободных мест. Когда начался салют, все пошли на террасу откуда его хорошо было видно. Я вышла вмести со всеми, и увидела на крыше впереди стоящих домов силуэты людей. Меня это удивило и потрясло настолько, что я побежала за своим фотоаппаратом!
Когда начались первые залпы, я стала эксперементировать с выдержкой, менять настройки, чтобы найти оптимальное решение для съёмки с рук. Но больше всего меня интересовали именно люди на крыше на фоне салюта. Как мне объяснили позже, такие экскурсии по крышам стали в последнее время очень популярны, особенно в дни салютов.
Я увлечённо фотографировала силуэты, делая уклон именно на них. Сам салют был лишь фоном, потому что для салюта выдержка 1 секунда, было слишком мало. Очертания Монстра в небе простым глазом заметить было не возможно, но вот горящие глаза , как два прожектора которые наблюдали за всем происходящим с небес, я уловила. Даже не дождавшись окончания салюта мне стало интересно и я стала просматривать снимки на экране фотоапарата..........и вдруг я увидела ЕГО! Он смотрел на меня своими горящими глазами и я сразу поняла, что это какая-то случайность или мистика, но очертания какого-то Монстра были явно видны! Волан-де-Мо́рт.....или просто какой-то череп с горящими глазами??Я сразу начала показывать всем что у меня получилось и все были в шоке от увиденного. У меня даже мурашки по спине побежали...
Что это было?? Случайность или мистика, предупреждение или знак сверху???У меня нет ответа.
Когда приехала домой во Францию, то хотелось быстрей сесть за компьютер и сделать альбом со Дня Победы 9 Мая. Но мне не давал покоя этот Монстр. Это было первое фото, которое я выложила в и-нет, после поездки в Санкт Петербург. Я очень боялась критики и негативной реакции, и постоянно следила за комментариями, но к моему удивлению, никто не испугался! Наверное в современном мире уже сложно кого-то напугать или удивить.................
Monument Valley, don’t think I understood the name for this amazingly beautiful area until our visit there a few weeks ago, it is truly a valley filled with natural monuments sculpted by wind, water, and time tools of creation over thousands of years.
This image (actually 7 stitched together and cropped) is probably number one million and one taken at the valley and that’s just last week. Oh ya, I was of those crazed photographers stopping every few minutes, jumping out of the car with camera and tripod in hand captivated by the incredible beauty surrounding me hoping to capture what I was experiencing.
So far this is my favorite, hope you enjoy it as much as I did shooting and editing.
Literally this guy talks to them, If Im not wrong I think I understood him calling a few birds by their own names...
An old one - Winter 2010 the 2 days that London stood still
Location: Boating Lake - Dulwich Park - Borough of Southwark - Greater London - England - United Kingdom - GB - Europe - EU
Photographer: Mark
Photoshop +Nik Collection Filters
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During my time in Nevada I hiked an area called Buffington Pockets, based on the recommendation of a niece. She said this location reminded her of bacon. Buffington Pockets, nestled in the Muddy Mountains, is full of unusual multicolored rock formations. When I came upon this hillside, I wholly understood what she meant.