View allAll Photos Tagged Unlived

Belki de yarısında uyandığımız düşlerin yaşanmamış kısmıydı, yaşamak..

 

Maybe living, was the unlived part of the dreams we woke up in half.

 

AG / ...

Artwork made for the AFFLATUS Exhibition - THE Edge Art Gallery

Open till Monday, 21st October, 2019

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Purple%20Haze/172/233/24

Come and enjoy the art of very talented artists :)

 

This is one of my artworks in the series PUPPETS created in collaboration with Eli Medier that gave them a soul with his magical words

 

"Loving Bitter Love

they are strange visions

rustling of skirts

dreams to caress

Unknown words

of unlived lives

 

Secrets in the secret

images glimpsed

spells of alchemists

diabolical rose garden

Shining bodies

in quivering souls

 

Thrills of the mind

ghostly faces far away

signals in the hands

of a fleeting future

Intangible hearts

of uncertain new loves

 

Silent fantasies

mine yours invented

cautiously veiled

implausible ways

Cathartic evocations

Loving Bitter Love"

© Eli Medier

 

(Taken at my SL home)

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

Summer in Alberta, Canada (1 of 2)

 

Photos taken at my Peggy and Ted's home in August. Hope that you enjoy them.and thanks for your visits:).

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

“But then, life is a constant withering of possibilities.

Some are stolen with the lives of people you love.

Others are let go, with regret and reluctance and deep, deep sorrow.

But there is compensation for lives unlived

in the intoxicating joy of knowing that the life you have

- right here, right now - if the one you have chosen.

There is power in that, and hope.”

 

― Emily Maguire

 

Blog Post

sllorinovo.blogspot.com/2017/12/right-here-right-now.html

“But then, life is a constant withering of possibilities.

Some are stolen with the lives of people you love.

Others are let go, with regret and reluctance and deep, deep sorrow.

But there is compensation for lives unlived

in the intoxicating joy of knowing that the life you have

- right here, right now - if the one you have chosen.

There is power in that, and hope.”

 

― Emily Maguire

 

Blog Post

sllorinovo.blogspot.com/2017/12/right-here-right-now.html

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

“But then, life is a constant withering of possibilities.

Some are stolen with the lives of people you love.

Others are let go, with regret and reluctance and deep, deep sorrow.

But there is compensation for lives unlived

in the intoxicating joy of knowing that the life you have

- right here, right now - if the one you have chosen.

There is power in that, and hope.”

 

― Emily Maguire

 

Blog Post

sllorinovo.blogspot.com/2017/12/right-here-right-now.html

A new begining,

A clean slate,

Uncried, unhurt, unlived ..

"I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my living to open me,

to make me less afraid, more accessible,

to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise.

 

I choose to risk my significance;

to live so that which comes to me as seed

goes to the next as blossom

and that which comes to me as blossom,

goes on as fruit."

 

-- Dawna Markova

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

4x5, graflex, x-ray film

Abandoned house in the country at a cross road.

HBM! Taken in Humber Bay Shores Park West at 12:15 PM today.

 

Best seen large by clicking on the photo. Thanks for visiting:)

please view on black

 

my mom lived in a little apartment in athens. after we lost her, we decided to ship her belongings back to her family's house in chios. they had been delivered to the moving company's warehouse a couple of weeks ago, but i had to go unlock the old, unlived-in, stone house, and let the movers in.

 

i had just visited the place over the summer with my immediate family and mom... i remember thinking that i might not go to chios again. i never thought that it would be mom who would never return.

 

there was no point sleeping tuesday night because i had to start early wednesday morning to catch a 6:15 flight. we landed at 7, i picked up the rented car and started to drive towards vrontados. the cold and rain matched my bitter mood as i followed the east coast. i glanced over towards turkey as the world turned blue. there was to be no glorious sunrise -- just troubled, turbulent sky.

 

i stopped next to the familiar windmills and tried to get a few shots. having no umbrella, i limited my attempts to brief lulls in the rain. finally, it was time for businesses to start their day, so i made my way up to the house and made the phone call to the movers that i'd arrived.

 

the house is on the slopes of mount epos and faces east. it's very old, built in the 1860s, and not the most comfortable of places -- but we sometimes visit in the summer. in fact, i'd never seen it in the winter. it looked different... the colors were dark and rich -- some trees were stark and brittle, but the normally dry wild grass in the yard was lush.

 

the movers came and left.

 

i hugged our neighbor, despina, when i saw her. she had just lost her own mother last year -- and she loved my mom too -- so we had a good deal to talk about, strangely, for the very first time. she was kind to me and even cooked a wonderful lunch. she cried, i cried. it was hard.

 

as evening fell, i took a last look at the house. this time, i wanted to save a mental picture only. i said goodbye to despina and drove back to the airport. i felt shattered but still wanted to stop at the harbor along the way to snap a few -- i haven't even looked at them yet. i doubt they're ok but, if they're even halfway decent, i'll post them.

 

i've placed this on the map.

 

on the blog: toomanytribbles.blogspot.com/2010/01/windmills-of-her-min...

Hit 'L' to view on large.

 

Highest position: 62 on Saturday, July 20, 2013

 

An abandoned chateau somewhere in Luxembourg - unspoilt, untrashed, unloved and unlived in hence no vandals or thieves have upset the balance of this fine place. Please do not ask for coords as we weren't given them and the day before we ended up in the wrong place looking for this. Was worth it though.

 

The Lucky 3 UE Eurotour

 

3 Man crew

My 3rd time and

3 Countries - Luxembourg, France and Belgium

 

A heap of locations, 1541 KMs driving, a late night rainy steep infiltration to a famous urbex haunt and a day mostly spent driving and walking to some wrong coordinates.

  

Full set here:

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157633420917013/...

 

Previous Eurotours:

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157632759059815/

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157631939892302/

 

Also on Facebook:

 

www.Facebook.com/TimKniftonPhotography

 

My blog:

 

timster1973.wordpress.com

The Rock Cries Out to Us Today

 

A Rock, A River, A Tree

Hosts to species long since departed,

Mark the mastodon.

The dinosaur, who left dry tokens

Of their sojourn here

On our planet floor,

Any broad alarm of their hastening doom

Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,

Come, you may stand upon my

Back and face your distant destiny,

But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than

The angels, have crouched too long in

The bruising darkness,

Have lain too long

Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spelling words

Armed for slaughter.

The rock cries out today, you may stand on me,

But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,

A river sings a beautiful song,

Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,

Delicate and strangely made proud,

Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit

Have left collars of waste upon

My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,

If you will study war no more.

Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs

The Creator gave to me when I

And the tree and stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow

And when you yet knew you still knew nothing.

The river sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to

The singing river and the wise rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew,

The African and Native American, the Sioux,

The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek,

The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,

The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,

The privileged, the homeless, the teacher.

They hear. They all hear

The speaking of the tree.

Today, the first and last of every tree

Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river.

Each of you, descendant of some passed on

Traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name,

You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca,

You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me,

Then forced on bloody feet,

Left me to the employment of other seekers--

Desperate for gain, starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot...

You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru,

Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare

Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the tree planted by the river,

Which will not be moved.

I, the rock, I the river, I the tree

I am yours--your passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need

For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,

Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage,

Need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon

The day breaking for you.

Give birth again

To the dream.

Women, children, men,

Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most

Private need. Sculpt it into

The image of your most public self.

Lift up your hearts.

Each new hour holds new chances

For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever

To fear, yoked eternally

To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,

Offering you space to place new steps of change.

Here, on the pulse of this fine day

You may have the courage

To look up and out upon me,

The rock, the river, the tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day

You may have the grace to look up and out

And into your sister's eyes,

Into your brother's face, your country

And say simply

Very simply

With hope

Good morning.

 

Maya Angelou

Older home unlived in for many years.

This is the cafe next door to our house during its heydays.

(Unfortunately, my reflection can be seen in the glass frontage.)

What can I say? If any building was cursed this would be it!

It was a good Cafe for many years. The owner liked to have card games.

He also didn't like to lose at those card games. He'd close up shop and carry on playing late into the night. One night, one of his fellow 'players' caught the bar owner cheating.

The bar owner was stabbed and killed.

The family of the murdered man were naturally upset. They were in fact so upset they donated the cafe to the village. Its been the village post office ever since..

The curse continued, several years ago, the husband of the post office mistress

He shot his own son dead with a shotgun whilst hunting in the vineyards. It was hushed up by the village..(until now!)

The guy died last year from cancer. Half the village seemed to turn out for his funeral.

The post office has been held-up a few times by passing bandits, its now got loads of protection. But is currently closed for a re-do.

They say the upstairs is just the same as it was when the owner was stabbed to death, many years ago, unchanged, unlived in, just locked up..

Hit 'L' to view on large.

 

An abandoned chateau somewhere in Luxembourg - unspoilt, untrashed, unloved and unlived in hence no vandals or thieves have upset the balance of this fine place. Please do not ask for coords as we weren't given them and the day before we ended up in the wrong place looking for this. Was worth it though.

 

The Lucky 3 UE Eurotour

 

3 Man crew

My 3rd time and

3 Countries - Luxembourg, France and Belgium

 

A heap of locations, 1541 KMs driving, a late night rainy steep infiltration to a famous urbex haunt and a day mostly spent driving and walking to some wrong coordinates.

  

Full set here:

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157633420917013/...

 

Previous Eurotours:

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157632759059815/

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157631939892302/

 

Also on Facebook:

 

www.Facebook.com/TimKniftonPhotography

 

"Às vezes vem a tristeza sem anunciar

Nunca se tem a certeza se ela vai voltar

Mas eu conheço a tristeza e vejo-a chegar

E sento-a à minha mesa e deixo-a ficar" — Pedro Ayres.

>>Sometimes sadness comes without announcing

One is never sure if it will return

But I know the sadness and see it coming

And I sit her at my table and let it stay.

 

“The only sadnesses that are dangerous and unhealthy are the ones that we carry around in public in order to drown them out with the noise; like diseases that are treated superficially and foolishly, they just withdraw and after a short interval break out again all the more terribly; and gather inside us and are life, are life that is unlived, rejected, lost, life that we can die of.”― Rainer Maria Rilke; 'Letters to a Young Poet'.

 

Madredeus — Às vezes vem a tristeza ♫ youtu.be/t74ya61CbLw

 

Às vezes vem a tristeza sem anunciar

Nunca se tem a certeza se ela vai voltar

Mas eu conheço a tristeza e vejo-a chegar

E sento-a à minha mesa e deixo-a ficar.

 

Photo taken with Nokia Lumia 930 and edited with Fotor.

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

Bento Mesh Head: LeLutka Korina

Bento Mesh Body: Maitreya Lara

Face/Body Applier: Glam Affair

Floral hair, body suit & mesh attachments: BOUDOIR

Rose Earrings: *KessKreations*

Senshi Nail Art: :Moon Amore:

Leg Straps: Raisie by Mosquito's Way (w/ texture HUD)

Giselle Eyes Applier: .euphoric

Fresh Lip Tints: Pink Fuel

Myst Eye Shadow: Arte

POSE: Daydream (4) by Serendipity

Bed of Flowers Photo Prop: BOUDOIR

Hit 'L' to view on large.

 

Highest position: 344 on Saturday, May 25, 2013

 

An abandoned chateau somewhere in Luxembourg - unspoilt, untrashed, unloved and unlived in hence no vandals or thieves have upset the balance of this fine place. Please do not ask for coords as we weren't given them and the day before we ended up in the wrong place looking for this. Was worth it though.

 

The Lucky 3 UE Eurotour

 

3 Man crew

My 3rd time and

3 Countries - Luxembourg, France and Belgium

 

A heap of locations, 1541 KMs driving, a late night rainy steep infiltration to a famous urbex haunt and a day mostly spent driving and walking to some wrong coordinates.

  

Full set here:

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157633420917013/...

 

Previous Eurotours:

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157632759059815/

 

www.flickr.com/photos/timster1973/sets/72157631939892302/

 

Also on Facebook:

 

www.Facebook.com/TimKniftonPhotography

View Large On Black

 

© All rights reserved. Use without permission is illegal

  

View my photos Darkr

   

Don't be afraid of death;

be afraid of an unlived life.

You don't have to live forever,

you just have to live.

More photos: zaporozhenko.livejournal.com

 

Please like our FB profile: www.facebook.com/Zaporozhenko.Photographers/

INSTAGRAM: www.instagram.com/zaporozhenko/

 

Citation [English]:

«Don't be afraid of death; be afraid of an unlived life.» /Tuck Everlasting/

 

Citation [Polish]:

«Nie bój się śmierci, bój się niespełnionego życia.» /Źródło młodości/

 

Citation [Russian]:

«Не бойся смерти, бойся непрожитой жизни.» /Бессмертные/

 

Music: «William Ross Tuck Everlasting - Theme Song»

 

Date: August 8th, 2015

Location: Poland/Tatra Mountains

View:Hala Gąsienicowa

 

Camera: Canon EOS 5D Mark II (DIGITAL SPIRIT)

Lens: Canon EF 16-35 mm f/2.8L USM

ISO: 400

Aperture: 16

Focal length: 16 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/10 seconds

 

Head: Manfrotto 496RC2

Tripod: Manfrotto 190CXPRO4

Focusing Screen: Canon EG-D

Photo Bag: Lowepro Flipside 300

Timer Remote Controller: Yongnuo Digital TC-80N3a

Memory Card: 16Gb Sandisk CompactFlash UDMA 7 Extreme Pro 160Mb/s

 

Filters:

• Hoya 82 mm HD Digital UV(0)

• Singh-Ray Galen Rowell Graduated Neutral Density Filter (ND-3G-HS)

• Singh-Ray 82mm LB Warming Circular Polarizer Thin Mount Filter

_____________________________________________

Copyright © Zaporozhenko Vitaly and Julia

 

We both, Zaporozhenko Vitaly and my wife, Zaporozhenko Julia – we are the authors of photos that are placed on our page on this site.

Any republications of our photos on the Internet are allowed only with a condition of the indication of our authorship and the link to our zaporozhenko.livejournal.com/ Internet page. Any other types of republications which aren't suitable under conditions of the above-written – are strictly forbidden.

Also we forbid making any changes in our photos: removal of a logo, addition of other inscriptions, photo framing, processing in graphic editors, etc.

Any commercial use of the photos which authors we are, and also their use in printing editions and on other printed carriers is strictly forbidden without our written consent.

The first room in this little house in the depths of the valley. Furniture piled up on one wall. A couple of framed pictures gaze into the little front room. Mirrors now reflect a scene from an unlived in home, set in a wonderful and breath taking vista.

 

My photo with a poem/affirmation/verse attached.

We were kept entertained watching the work at intervals througr much of the day.The bungalow across the road got planning permission to be turned into a 2 floor flat but one year later it was discovered that the bungalow was on clay with large rocklike flints and had no foundations so would have to be demonished and rebuilt in order to make the alterations. It will take about a year. Already the bungalow has been unlived in for over 2 years. [https: We did object to the plans for many reasons and the parish council was right behind us but we didn't get enough votes. The Parish counci lhad been hoping to make this road rank as being of special character but the plans for the new flat are very modern and out of keeping with all the other buildings. Although the bungalow didn't fit either it was small and not too prominant whereas the new building will dominate uncomfortably. We're not looking forward to being faced with a prominant dark wall before our front window.

Due to long-term poor health I'm unable to take on new contacts but do my best to reply to comments. Thank you so much for your interest, comments and favours on my photostream. Also for your good wishes. I send you joy and peace

Sshhhh... and I, lose ourselves in a vast deep valley and arrive at 'The House of the Slaughtered Lamb'

 

The first room in this little house in the depths of the valley. Furniture is piled up against one wall. A couple of framed pictures gaze into the little front room. Mirrors now reflect a scene from an unlived in home, set in a wonderful and breath taking vista.

   

Most of us have two lives. The life we live, and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance. - The War Of Art | www.TheMatthewSmith.com

Unread letters are like me -

Untold thoughts of an unlived day...

i'm sick :(

    

feel free to criticism this photo :) it will help me

Comments are welcome but no glittery banners or images of any kind! Those will be deleted!

Mõ kì quá .. bụm bụm mắc cừi bà cố =))

Photo: Jolie Phan

PS: tối nay đi chơi w Su chụp up flickr quá, âm u xem k Fav :(((

An abandoned (unlived in) house on the outskirts of DeLeon Springs, Florida. Shot in digital infrared.

Utstein Monastery is Norway’s only preserved medieval monastery. It lies in beautiful surroundings on the island of Mosterøy, a 30 minutes drive from Stavanger.

 

The site of Utstein Monastery is mentioned in historical records dating back to the Eleventh Century, when it was mentioned as having been a farm belonging to King Harald Fairhair after the Battle of Hafrsfjord in 872.

 

Construction of the monastery started in about 1260, although some parts may be older and may date from the earlier royal farm on the site. The church is unique in Norway, with its tower situated centrally between chancel and nave.

 

The Augustinians lived a pious life. Probably not more than 12 Augustinians lived at the monastery, but there certainly would have been many servants who did the farming, built buildings and prepared food. The monastery owned a considerable amount of land and was wealthy enough to support 250 people year-round.

 

After the Reformation, the monastery was unlived-in for long periods and the buildings fell into disrepair. When Christopher Garmann moved here in 1750, the buildings were refurbished, although in some cases in a very different form.

 

Around 1900, the church’s chancel and tower were restored, while the rest of the property was renovated in the 1950s and ‘60s. It was then that the foundation ‘Stiftelsen Utstein Kloster’ was set up. Utstein monastery opened as a museum in 1965. It became part of the consolidated Museum Stavanger (MUST) in January 2012.

---

utsteinkloster.no/en/aktuelt/utstein-kloster

---

no.wikipedia.org/wiki/Utstein_kloster

This week, week ending 30/10/2016 it was announced that Heathrow would be building a third runway. Let's give ourselves a moment to get over that shock [irony].

 

Firstly, we could say why not develop capacity at other UK airports to allow British holiday makers to travel from closer to home in their own regions and encourage tourism to other parts of the country.

 

Secondly, it is clear that despite the arguments for economies of scale in making London a super city it has its downsides. People in London are increasingly living in ever smaller boxes in the sky while large homes purchased by overseas investors go unlived-in. And more closely related to Heathrow's expansion the skies will be more crowded and the roads will be under greater strain around Heathrow meaning passenger and freight traffic on the roads takes longer to reach its destination and burns more fuel in doing so, thereby costing more and polluting the air in West London.

 

Thirdly, with all that extra air traffic in one area you would think being as technologically advanced as a species as we are we could do something about the emissions coming out the back of aeroplanes. If only there were a switch that could reduce it instantly.

 

Thanks for stopping by. Feel free to make any relevant comment. Do NOT post any link(s) below. I can find my own way to your images. All my images are my own original work, under my copyright, with all rights reserved. You need my permission to use any image for ANY purpose.

 

Copyright infringement is theft.

Among the many successful businesses in Eudunda was Wiesner and Company, timber and hardware merchant. Their impressive warehouse and store still remains in the town.

The Wiesner family started a blacksmith and foundry business in Eudunda in 1884 which eventually employed 50 people. In 1905 they sold that business and opened the iron mongers and furniture store in large two storey premises to which they added. It became the largest hardware and furniture store outside of Adelaide. It sold everything from pianos, china, glassware and silver cutlery to iron, nails, tools and timber and sewing machines.

Johannes Wiesner and his son Adolph ran the business until it was sold in 1951 but they had downsized it in 1945 when they sold part of the warehouse to the Masonic Lodge.

 

Interestingly Adolph married an English girl Mary Cranston and he became a Methodist and his grandson became a Methodist Minister. [Ref: A Future Unlived]

  

Eudunda is a quiet town in the Mid North of South Australia.

Notably it is an historic German settlement.

 

Eudunda came into existence as an important watering hole for cattle and horses which were being overlanded to South Australia from western Queensland in the late 19th century. Their destination was Kapunda, at that time effectively owned by Sir Sidney Kidman.

 

Eudunda was the birthplace of the educationalist and novelist Colin Thiele who achieved fame with his hugely successful books, Storm Boy, Blue Fin and Sun On The Stubble.

Thiele’s presence is evidenced by the silhouette of one of his characters, ‘Gustav” and his kelpie dog.

 

They're just old secrets by now...

 

Listening to www.youtube.com/watch?v=3FHtNnIYJSY

 

Ieri ho finito di leggere Emma di Jane Austen e mi chiedo perché solo nei libri sembra che le cose finiscano come realmente debbano finire e meravigliosamente pure?

 

© All rights reserved. Do not use without permission. Use without permission is illegal.

 

Unlived Experience Portraits:

Paintings that aren't painted of Lost Souls who never existed by an artist who isn't an artist...

 

Midjourney

Click & Listen

 

Inexpensive Progress (1966)

 

Encase your legs in nylons,

Bestride your hills with pylons

O age without a soul;

Away with gentle willows

And all the elmy billows

That through your valleys roll.

 

Let's say goodbye to hedges

And roads with grassy edges

And winding country lanes;

Let all things travel faster

Where motor car is master

Till only Speed remains.

 

Destroy the ancient inn-signs

But strew the roads with tin signs

'Keep Left,' 'M4,' 'Keep Out!'

Command, instruction, warning,

Repetitive adorning

The rockeried roundabout;

 

For every raw obscenity

Must have its small 'amenity,'

Its patch of shaven green,

And hoardings look a wonder

In banks of floribunda

With floodlights in between.

 

Leave no old village standing

Which could provide a landing

For aeroplanes to roar,

But spare such cheap defacements

As huts with shattered casements

Unlived-in since the war.

 

Let no provincial High Street

Which might be your or my street

Look as it used to do,

But let the chain stores place here

Their miles of black glass facia

And traffic thunder through.

 

And if there is some scenery,

Some unpretentious greenery,

Surviving anywhere,

It does not need protecting

For soon we'll be erecting

A Power Station there.

 

When all our roads are lighted

By concrete monsters sited

Like gallows overhead,

Bathed in the yellow vomit

Each monster belches from it,

We'll know that we are dead.

 

- John Betjeman (28 August 1906–19 May 1984)

 

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