View allAll Photos Tagged Unmoving
Looks like a great final resting spot, any takers?
Freezing to Death
by Just Laura
Gentle and deadly
Beautiful, feared.
Drifting and Falling
Sharp winter austere.
White as your eyes that
Glaze over clear.
Frozen, unfeeling
Lovely, severe.
You are now drifting
Away from here.
It drifts against skin
Pale, brittle, sheer.
One last cloudy breath
Then you disappear
Lips blue, unmoving
One last frozen tear
Gentle and deadly
Unfeeling, feared.
Steadily the snow
Will bury you here.
I know that I've posted several photos involving this Carolina First building. But, I promise, each is for a different reason. Truth is, one could sit here and shoot at this building on the hour, every hour and get subtleties of change in the window reflections. I am all about subtleties. Nuance.
Heck, I take thousands of shots of the moon. How boring could that be?
Never boring.
Always different.
She shows us the same face every night, but that face is held slightly differently.
This building always faces the same way and shows the same stone and glass. But that stone and glass shows more than itself.
Aren't we the same way? Aren't we seen according to our contexts? I'm fortunate enough that my contexts actually reflect parts of me. But though those contexts and expressions are all closely related, I am more than any one of them can express. Their connections aren't evidenced by any single manifestation.
I love to sit and watch this building reflect it's context. I love to watch it sit there, stone solid, unwavering, and yet express empathy to everything around.
It knows what is going on and it shows on its face. If the building across the street is feeling organized, symmetrical, and ordered, it can look into this building and see itself.
If the building feels jagged, chaotic, unsettled, squiggly, it can look across and see its own situation reflected, felt and expressed by a neighbor.
I want to be like that building. Strong, unmoving, solid, and beautiful. But I want my beauty to depend greatly on the reflections of those around me.
Taking a walk through Whitemud Park to test my new Tamron 150-600mm lens, a fellow birder tipped me off about a Great Horned Owl nearby. After a bit of searching, I finally spotted it in a tree, sleeping, unmoving, camouflaged in the trees. Honestly I'm not even sure how I spotted it, but so happy that I did!
Great Horned Owl
December 26, 2023
Whitemud Creek Park
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
This is the first time I captured an animated Green Heron. Usually, such a bird would stand by the water's edge, unmoving, waiting for a fish to come by, for hours (OK, maybe just minutes but when you're holding a heavy camera with a heavy lens to your eye, the minutes seem like hours...hehe!). I found out later that the heron was reacting to a humongous iguana that was threatening to invade its "personal space" and disrupt its fishing.
a Lennie rests near the mountain.
ever changing never moving...
like ripples in a stream over unmoving rocks.
Mount Adams, Trout Lake, WA...
all photos copyrighted, talk to me if you wish to use one for some reason. thanks!
More information on Lenticular clouds can be seen here www.flickr.com/photos/starlisa/sets/72157613492935029/
You can see my two photobooks here on my website at starlisablackphotography
This gull was able to sit easily on the stern wheel of the tug boat Portland. On the Willamette River, Portland.
Pictorial Pranks
Shot by Mrs Photographerno1.
And you wont have to fill in the blanks..
or cover meaningless flanks
minds rusty unmoving cranks
She said unthankfully..No Thanks..
On a train ride that skirted river banks..
photogapherno1..love and unlove
a pathos divinely unhidden
to pictorial pranks..
#firozeshakir
#beggarpoet
With everything going on at the time, I didn't find many opportunities to get out and photograph. This one morning I found a few minutes and set about finding some images. This composition was rather spontaneous, the unmoving bridge providing a strong counterpoint to the pounding river.
.
We were very lucky in that I only had to worry about if I was going to be able to get to work or not on a given day.
Many others lost a lot due to these torrential rains and my thoughts go out to them.
Committed to expired Ilford HP5 using a Leica M3 and 50 mm Summicron DR. Developed in Ars-Imago FD with a one-stop push and digitised with a digital camera and macro lens. Positive conversion and contrast done with Negative Lab Pro. Dust removal and further contrast adjustment in Photoshop.
A single flame stands still in the darkness, unmoving, giving light to the world around it.
Wishing a Happy Holiday to my friends in the Flickr community. Have a bright, healthy and prosperous New Year!
This is a different perspective and take on the famous statue of the gang of Kampung (village) boys jumping into the Singapore river near the Fullerton Hotel.
The hotel had several tenants before it came to being - the General Post Office, the Singapore Club and several government departments.
A great place to visit, even if you are not staying there.
(edit)
This one hit #3 on Explore!
CBD, Singapore
2006
| Arjun Purkayastha • travel & fine art photography • | Facebook page |
Now there's a blast from the past on the stop blocks at Paddington. A unit with the L indicating a London allocation although that didn't stop units appearing and working in other areas. 1065 Western Consort with "A" cab leading and 47077 North Star getting in on the act in the background.
This day was an outing by excursion from the Manchester Division to Oxford but being intrepid explorers we went on to London. 47077 was on an ex Birmingham service to here, so no Western haulage unfortunately. On the way back it was 50043 to Reading and and 47489 to Oxford so no hydraulic haulage was sampled.
I hadn't realised 47077 was on the negative until looking at this in digital form. That was a namer that followed me everywhere and I got a slightly blurred photo of it going like hell over St Pinnock viaduct in Cornwall. Well that's my excuse for it - everything fixed and unmoving was in perfect focus.
Paddington sure as heck doesn't look like this anymore. Wandering round taking pictures of locos is also not the same!
all things, objects, (including your body) thoughts, feelings appear on the ever still, unmoving screen. You are that screen the teacher says, and nothing can touch or hurt you! Remember that!
On my home from capturing a sunset, I came across this horse and his fellows. It was feeding time, so he stood relative unmoving. I had some ghosting artefacts from the HDR because the head was moving while eating, but managed to mask in the original (pseudo HDRised) head.
Happy Halloween!
"Nothing beats a haunted moonlit night on All Hallows Eve.... And on this fatal night, at this witching time, the starless sky laments black and unmoving. The somber hues of an ominous, dark forest are suddenly illuminated under the emerging face of the full moon."
~ Kim Elizabeth
"When witches go riding,
and black cats are seen,
the moon laughs and whispers,
‘tis near Halloween."
~ Author Unknown
Suspended, while before it glide the reeling
And see-through scenes of day, faintly agleam,
Until their passage stills
And merges with the deep unmoving stream.
From Murray Dreaming by Stephen Edgar
This poem originally appeared in the November 2008 issue of Poetry.
• Available high res and unframed at tomraven.com
• Prints, Cards and Posters available at RavenRedBubble
Enjoy!... Bee Happy!
Holy Island, Northumberland
At the far corner, in the north-east part of the Holy Island of Lindisfarne stands this tall monument.
Looking out to the seas from which numerous raiders have landed the structure is resilient, unmoving and defiant.
An endless and unmoving blackness. Peace, or the absence at least of terror.
Abandonded farmhouse in Wales.
It was so toxic,
the rage after my fifth scotch.
Such a built up scheme!
Dioxide lagoons,
fragments of my memory
under the noon sun!
Tetracycline dreams,
unmoving gullies of 'roids.
like cheap beef jerky!
Pain is like a spike,
I sear my palm and it flares.
Didn't feel a thing!
Fueled by clarity,
I cast into the center
and choose to engage!
I am eager!
"Do you know... the giants? The silver one... and the black one.
"The air itself tore open in a cataclysm over the arid lands and the giants fell through. The foreign lands phased the silver one, but they say the black one was prepared, for they took battle right away. They were not satisfied and they would fight to the end.
"They fought through the night. They were large and powerful, destroying the grounds in the wake of their battle. Their might echoed across Maanos.
"...But every battle comes to an end. The black one won at sunrise, but in an act of mercy forgave his opponent. The titans reconciled... and vanished.
"Their fate unknown, they marked the rise of the ones in the shadows. Unheard of, forgotten, solitary. Entities rose far and wide, each seeking their own ends.
"The mad scavenger of the keep: The Leech.
"Cultists dedicated to the realms of the mind: The Dreamers.
"...And the reclusive warriors of the Sanctum: The Divided.
"But... life was in peril. The dead were restless, the living refused to die, the inanimate wouldn't remain unmoving... And when natural order is not contained, wardens will rise..."
--------------------------------------
So, Monarth is turning 7 years old today. He's been my selfmoc that long and honestly it feels special to upgrade him to new heights for the occasion.
He's gone through so many changes over the years. This marks as his V12, disregarding the spin-offs I've made. It is also his third version of his warden form.
I almost completely overhauled him for this version. Some minor elements have stayed, but his aesthetic is brand new. I'm very satisfied with the inventions I made for the build: 5-digit hands, posable mouth with teeth, etc. I'm happy that I managed to give him sturdy joints, which are very often a point where I fail.
Overall, I'm very happy with his build and look, and I truly wish you enjoy him =]
nature was really showing off here; this year however the colours have not emerged at all yet. Global warming strikes again. I wanted to give a sense of movement against a fixed unmoving ground. Hope it works for you
Her woven hands beckoned me,
And her eyes pierced their intense love into me,
And I drew closer to her
Until I felt the rhythm of her body
Like a living cloak over me.
I saw the cold, green trees,
Their silken branches unmoving,
Their delicate, silken leaves unfolded,
And the deep sky over them
With immeasurable sadness.
Her love for me is fierce and continual,
Strong, fresh, and overpowering.
My love for her is like the moving of a cloud
Serene and unbroken,
Or the motion of a flower
Stirring its pole stem in delight,
Or the graceful sound of laughter,
In the victory of her gladness
And the triumph of her pitiless gaiety
She becomes like a dancer or a pretty animal
Suave in her movements
On the balance of her dark foot stepping down
,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,She shall make for me
A sensitive confusion in the blood,
A rhythm I cannot break
Stroking the air and holding the light.,,,,,,,,,,,
,,,There will be a new bitterness
Binding me with pain,
And a clean surge of love moving.
In the fold of her arms
And the contact with her breasts
There will be a new life
Growing like a powerful root inside me.
The gestures of my love
Involve me in a joy
Recall my old desire
Like a sweet sensitive plant
In my barbed sorrowful earth,
Holding a voluptuous clarity
Under the tent of its wings,
Love neither falters nor forsakes,,,,,,,,,
ANY OF THESE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=dYnPekeFsVU&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XS0Oo19ijz0&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=hmQOE3W_49I&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSQUH6z294k&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TcoKxYv8NCQ&feature=related
www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnPZmSDPQEo
"Nothing beats a haunted moonlit night on All Hallows Eve.... And on this fatal night, at this witching time, the starless sky laments black and unmoving. The somber hues of an ominous, dark forest are suddenly illuminated under the emerging face of the full moon." - Kim Elizabeth
"Nothing on Earth so beautiful as the final haul on Halloween night." - Steve Almond
As always, thanks a lot for your encouraging support, my friends. Have a safe Halloween night, full of wonders...!
Best seen on black - press L or click on image above.
This is my entry for the Colossal Battle Contest 2015 - RPG and fantasy category. It's also a free build for LoR.
A scream disrupted the early morning silence. Trenton began running in the direction it had come from. Stories of bandits operating in the forests around the village of Drellin had led him here and now, it seemed, those stories had been confirmed.
Trenton led his soldiers through the village, passing frightened villagers running the other way. A few brave soul took up whatever they had at hand and followed. When he reached the Loreos outpost which stood on the edge of the village he found the source of the cries.
Bandits flooded into the road, wielding all manner of weapons and howling war cries as they descended upon the peasants. The captain of the watch and a single watchman were standing in their way and loosing ground fast. One villager fought back with a pitchfork while another lay in the road breathing his last. A mother sheltered her crying child while a terrified man closed himself in the cellar.
Trenton drew his sword and, with the cry "For Loreos!" he charged. His soldiers surged around him echoing his cry as they rushed to meet the bandits charge. Trenton parried a blow then trust, an arrow whipped past him and downed a bandit. He hacked and slashed wildly, his training flying to the wind as the battle lust took him. His opponent went down only to be replaced by another, who he met with equal ferocity. And so the battle raged.
Trenton walked through the aftermath, solemnly observing the destruction. Three of his soldiers lay dead alongside the brave farmer who's wife and child grieved over. A dozen of the bandits lay unmoving in the road and the ruined field of crops beside it. His bodyguard Ethan approached; "Sir we have captured one of the bandits."
Trenton turned away from the dead; "Then lets find out who's leading them and end this!"
He so wanted this to be "Passionate" (curls up entirely) but after ten minutes it was still resolutely "Dead One" (unmoving).
He's now gone to bed without saying goodnight to anyone.
Buff-tip moth (Phalera bucephala)
Master of disguise - just sitting there all day pretending to be a broken twig. Hid this away in the wood store after I'd finished taking (far too many) photos. It stayed all day - totally unmoving - but gone in the morning.
OMD-EM1 mk III
Zuiko 60 mm macro
Focus Stack
I really REALLY wanted a Dunes image from Death Valley. Especially after Steve ran over the tarantula that I was going to use as my FG comp. Ok... in fairness I took us on a road that was so bad, 3 off-road motorcycles in front of us turned around. Well thanks to my navigational failures, we missed The Racetrack, so I guess we are even. I just knew that without getting a sunrise shot of a Dune, I would go away from Death Valley empty handed.
So we selected our respective Dunes and waited for sunrise. When dawn broke, it became obvious that this was going to be a special morning in the desert. An EPIC sunrise unfolded; pinks, oranges, reds, and purples were just ripping across the sky. I settled into my shot... and realized I was facing completely the wrong way. I scurried forward about 50 yards to find a comp where the lines went into the sun, and quickly realized that it was worse, so I went back to my camera. It then dawned on me that I had just stomped footprints through my comp. Sigh. So I began to run. Up dunes, down dunes, through dunes, trying desperately to find a good comp that faced the exploding sky and was devoid of foot prints. Steve Turner was perched high atop some dune, completely unmoving. I knew I was in trouble. Finally as the sun was rising, I just turned and started shooting a worthless series of shots that I knew I would trash.
Absolutely devastated and exhausted, with lenses, bags, and my water bottle all in varies sections of Death Valley, I retreated in defeat. Then I happened to turn around and saw this. I grabbed my camera and scrambled up a ridge... realized I had the wrong lens and scrambled down the ridge. Got my 24-70 and scrambled back up the ridge. Gasped for breath and fired off a few frames. I don't know who this guy was, but I appreciate him climbing that dune for me.
As for Steve, I thoroughly ruined every single image he shot, which made me quite pleased. Of the 100+ images he captured, I was in a different spot in the frame for every single one of them. You're welcome.
Death Valley is a pretty neat place, and one that requires much more exploring. It also is a place where you better learn how to make a collect call, because payphones are the only method of communication. I dialed 0 and hoped for the best.
I guess I'm not supposed to put my website address here, so it's in My Profile if anyone cares.
Featured on Flickr Explore #221 on 2025-02-11.
The Grey-headed kingfisher (Halcyon leucocephala) is a species of kingfisher that has a wide distribution from the Central, East and southern Africa.
A dry-country kingfisher of scrub and woodland, solitary or in pairs, often found near water, but unlike most kingfishers is not aquatic. Perches on a branch, unmoving for long periods while watching the ground for signs of insects or small lizards, bobbing head before diving on prey.
Nests in holes in steep riverbanks and is aggressively protective of its nest by repeated dive-bombing of foraging monitor lizards. It is parasitised by the greater honeyguide. This species migrates at night and is often killed by flying into obstacles such as buildings, towers and powerlines.
This beautiful Grey headed Kingfisher was captured on a Photography Safari during an early morning game drive in Nairobi National Park, Kenya.
Another hairdo by the talented Amara of Zero Zero, Seattle. I took this photo of myself when it was fresh, but the thing stayed up and unmoving for like, five days straight. Backcombing + cornrows = win. This style definitely makes me pine for a mohawk.
Makeup of note:
Eyeliner: 24/7 Glide-On Eye Pencil by Urban Decay in Electric
Shadow: MAC in Electra, Knight Divine, Tilt, Dark Soul
Skin: MAC Studio Fix compact (though the uber clear skin is the fault of Photoshop and forgetting the diffuser on my speedlight)
Lips: Glow Lover by Fantasy Makers
Hair Color: Fishbowl and Nuclear Red + Cherry Bomb (blended) by Special Effects USA
Brows: Some older-than-god blue eyeshadow by Bonne Bell that I have literally owned since the late '80s and won't ever throw away because it's magnificent
My self portraits always come out better when I do something dumb with my hands in the frame. I don't get it.
Whee!
Dawn is slowly rising to greet another day with touches of pink. There is a hushed, and peaceful feel. The new light slowly reveals that even the ducks are unmoving as they wait expectantly for the day. Seems that, just for a moment, the whole world is holding its breath.
I spent most of the afternoon today out looking for migratory swans. I drove out to one of the most well know places, and there were hundreds and hundred of birds. Unfortunately, there is so much ice left on the lakes this spring that the open water, where the swans were, was well out beyond reach. After taking a few photos of those distant birds, I reluctantly headed back to Whitehorse. Then just before reaching city limits, I spotted this group of birds very close to the highway. I pulled off and managed to walk close enough for some pretty nice shots.. It was obvious that the birds were tired from their long trip, so I made sure not to approach past the edge of the trees. They remained calm, and so calm, in fact, that some were obviously asleep. Their quiet unmoving positions allowed me time to set up the tripod and shoot three bracketed exposures in quick succession. The result is this nicely detailed HDR image.
This is a 3-exposure HDR covering a range of 6 f-stops in total. The original images were shot with the Canon EOS R and EF400mm f/5.6 adapted with the Canon Mount Adapter EF-EOS R. The whole system was mounted on a sturdy tripod and activated with a wired remote. The resultant raw images were merged in Adobe Lightroom.
This castle is at the mouth of the Shannon estuary in north Kerry, Ireland. It looks out out into the Atlantic, unmoved and unmoving. It's really only one wall now but, even at that, it seems to stand up tall in the face of the wind and the sea. I can't figure out whether it better represents loneliness or strength
Hare lying in a depression in the grass known as a form.It lies here unmoving,with ears back,sometimes for many hours.
Very hard to spot and if you are lucky and move very slowly towards one you can get very close.This one stayed put and I was able to lie down resting my camera on a beanbag to get some eye-level shots.It didn't move or blink once in the few minutes i was there.
My visit to suffolk is sadly now over and I will certainly miss these amazing animals ....hopefully I will meet them again next year!
“Do you have the patience to wait
Till your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving
Till the right action arises by itself?”
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince 27
Chapter 27 : The Lightning-Struck Tower
The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading.
Snape said nothing, but walked forwards and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed.
Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.
'Severus ... please ...'
Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.
'Avada Kedavra!'
A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest. Harry's scream of horror never left him; silent and unmoving, he was forced to watch as Dumbledore was blasted into the air: for a split second he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly backwards, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.
_
In which Malfoy corners and disarms a weak Dumbledore after returning from the Cave, using the summoned Dark Mark as a lure. Malfoy reveals that he was the one to give the cursed necklace to Katie Bell and the poisoned mead to Professor Slughorn (which poisons Ron) both meant for Dumbledore. Malfoy also reveals that he managed to sneak in the Death Eaters with the Vanishing Cabinet, which has a twin cabinet at Borgin & Burkes. Malfoy fails to kill Dumbledore and the rest of the Death Eaters, including Snape, join them in the Astronomy tower. Snape blasts Dumbledore off of the tower, killing him and BREAKING MY HEART FOREVER.
_
HOW CAN I EVEN BUILD THIS WITHOUT CRYING THE WHOLE TIME - I COULDNT. I sobbed and then needed to edit out all of my tears from my moc. #sadforever
_
If you haven’t had a look already, please visit the previous builders pages. Their interpretations of the series are truly magical, you can see the full series in our Flickr group here.
Oda a la cebolla - Pablo Neruda
Cebolla,
luminosa redoma,
pétalo a pétalo
se formó tu hermosura,
escamas de crystal te acrecentaron
y en el secreto de la tierra oscura
se redondeó tu vientre de rocío.
Bajo la tierra
fue el milagro
y cuando apareció
tu torpe tallo verde,
y nacieron
tus hojas como espadas en el huerto,
la tierra acumuló su poderío
mostrando tu desnuda transparencia,
y como en Afrodita el mar remoto
duplicó la magnolia
levantando sus senos,
la tierra
así te hizo,
cebolla,
clara como un planeta,
y destinada ,
a relucir ,
constelación constante,
redonda rosa de agua,
sobre
la mesa
de las pobres gentes.
Nos hiciste llorar sin afligirnos.
Yo cuanto existe celebré, cebolla,
pero para mi eres
más hermosa que un ave
de plumas cegadoras
eres para mis ojos
globo celeste, copa de platino,
baile inmóvil
de anémona nevada
y vive la fragancia de la tierra
en tu naturaleza cristalina.
Ode to the onion - Pablo Neruda
Onion,
luminous flask,
your beauty formed
petal by petal,
crystal scales expanded you
and in the secrecy of the dark earth
your belly grew round with dew.
Under the earth
the miracle
happened
and when your clumsy
green stem appeared,
and your leaves were born
like swords
in the garden,
the earth heaped up her power
showing your naked transparency,
and as the remote sea
in lifting the breasts of Aphrodite
duplicating the magnolia,
so did the earth
make you,
onion
clear as a planet
and destined
to shine,
constant constellation,
round rose of water,
upon
the table
of the poor.
You make us cry without hurting us.
I have praised everything that exists,
but to me, onion, you are
more beautiful than a bird
of dazzling feathers,
heavenly globe, platinum goblet,
unmoving dance
of the snowy anemone
and the fragrance of the earth lives
in your crystalline nature.
Best viewed large.
I recently returned from 16 days in Ecuador with Tropical Birding on their Ecuador Photo Tour.
www.tropicalbirding.com/photo-tours/ecuador-photo-tour/
We spent 5 days at Sani Lodge on a small lake close to the Napo River, a tributary of the Amazon. The Sani people were amazing, extremely hospitable, very skilled paddlers and wonderful birders.
This nunbird was photographed at Sani Lodge.
The Black-fronted Nunbird is one of the four nunbirds in the genus Monasa. All four species are large, black puffbirds with pale bills, best identified by the presence and location of white in their plumages and the color of their bills. The Black-fronted is the only nunbird with all-dark plumage and an orange bill. It is widespread in Amazonia,
The puffbirds and their relatives in the near passerine family Bucconidae are tropical tree-dwelling insectivorous birds that are found from South America up to Mexico. Together with their closest relatives, the jacamars, they form a divergent lineage within the order Piciformes, though the two families are sometimes elevated to a separate order Galbuliformes.
Puffbirds are sit-and-wait hunters, perching unmoving for long periods, while watching for insect prey.
Wikipedia and Neotropical Birds.
It was late November, and I was coming down from Montseny. The mountain was cloaked in rain and silence, the cold biting through layers, the path vanishing into a sea of fog. Every step downward felt like a descent into some forgotten realm, where the world was reduced to the rhythm of breath, the hiss of falling water, and the grey hush of trees dissolving into mist. There was no horizon, no sky — only the closeness of the mountain, as if it sought to keep its secrets hidden.
Then, almost without warning, the veil broke. The fog fell behind me, and in the distance Montserrat appeared, its serrated silhouette tearing into the dying day. For the briefest of instants the clouds parted, and the horizon burned crimson, as if the heavens themselves were wounded. It lasted no longer than two minutes, a furious outburst before night’s dominion. I stopped, lifted the telephoto from my pack, and shielded the lens with my hand against the rain. In that act — hurried, fragile, instinctive — I captured a vision that felt less like weather and more like revelation.
Montserrat has always stood apart, not merely as stone, but as symbol. For centuries its jagged ridges have been seen as the dwelling of the divine, a natural cathedral where the earthly and eternal collide. Here, the Black Madonna, La Moreneta, revealed herself to shepherd children in a blaze of light; here, monks withdrew from the world to pray among peaks shaped like broken pillars of some celestial temple. Montseny, too, carries its own shadows of legend, ancient rites hidden in its forests, its slopes long considered thresholds into other worlds. To walk between them is to wander through landscapes not only of rock and water, but of myth and mystery, where every clearing and ridge seems haunted by memory older than memory itself.
And as I stood there — between storm and stone, between Montseny’s fog and Montserrat’s fire — I felt time compress. The scene was not just light on horizon; it was a parable. The sun, even in its setting, refused to fade quietly. It raged against the dark, burning more fiercely in its last breath than it had in the calm of noon. If even the stars teach us defiance at the edge of ending, what then of us? Perhaps our existence is not measured by endurance, but by intensity — not in how long we stand, but in how brightly we resist.
The mountains endure for millennia, indifferent and unmoving. Yet the true lesson was in the light: fleeting, fragile, but unforgettable. In that crimson blaze I glimpsed a truth — that all which lives most fully, lives most truly at the edge of vanishing.
That night, the storm closed in again, and darkness claimed the ridges. But the memory of that furious horizon remains, a reminder that surrender need not be silence, and that even in dying, light may burn with rage.
A family of Least Terns go about their business at sunrise. One parent had just finished feeding the chick and took off to go fishing again. I had this idea of capturing a sharp shot of the unmoving parent while blurring the motion of the second parent’s takeoff. So, I dropped my shutter speed and waited...I liked the resulting image.
"Do you know... the giants? The silver one... and the black one.
"The air itself tore open in a cataclysm over the arid lands and the giants fell through. The foreign lands phased the silver one, but they say the black one was prepared, for they took battle right away. They were not satisfied and they would fight to the end.
"They fought through the night. They were large and powerful, destroying the grounds in the wake of their battle. Their might echoed across Maanos.
"...But every battle comes to an end. The black one won at sunrise, but in an act of mercy forgave his opponent. The titans reconciled... and vanished.
"Their fate unknown, they marked the rise of the ones in the shadows. Unheard of, forgotten, solitary. Entities rose far and wide, each seeking their own ends.
"The mad scavenger of the keep: The Leech.
"Cultists dedicated to the realms of the mind: The Dreamers.
"...And the reclusive warriors of the Sanctum: The Divided.
"But... life was in peril. The dead were restless, the living refused to die, the inanimate wouldn't remain unmoving... And when natural order is not contained, wardens will rise..."
--------------------------------------
So, Monarth is turning 7 years old today. He's been my selfmoc that long and honestly it feels special to upgrade him to new heights for the occasion.
He's gone through so many changes over the years. This marks as his V12, disregarding the spin-offs I've made. It is also his third version of his warden form.
I almost completely overhauled him for this version. Some minor elements have stayed, but his aesthetic is brand new. I'm very satisfied with the inventions I made for the build: 5-digit hands, posable mouth with teeth, etc. I'm happy that I managed to give him sturdy joints, which are very often a point where I fail.
Overall, I'm very happy with his build and look, and I truly wish you enjoy him =]