View allAll Photos Tagged VisualStorytelling
as he walks through the lattice of light and stone, his shadow unfolds like a second body — angular, quiet, uninvited. the grid beneath him holds no direction, only repetition. in this boxed geometry of street and solitude, presence is just a darker echo.
This path will be the longest coastal path in the world when it is finished. It will go all around the coast of England and will be around 2,795 miles long when it is complete.
www.nationaltrail.co.uk/en_GB/trails/england-coast-path-s...
"Whew! Eating is messy business in crane world, especially if you are a little gosling like me learning the ropes of it. Mom and dad tirelessly dig out worms and other protein filled foods from the ground, bring them close to our bills and wait for us to grab and swallow them. It looks so easy when my sister pecks it from their bills, but here I haven't quite figured the process out yet. No worries though as our forever patient parents keep reoffering the same worm to me until I finally get a hold of it and yes, eat it up. Then we move to the next one."
- The Gosling ❤️-
I hoped to take a photo of the Amex Stadium as it came out of the afternoon fog but unfortunately it was completely shrouded when I got there.
So I went over to check out Falmer Ponds which looked eerie but beautiful when I arrived. The pond was partly frozen over and the ducks and geese were sliding across it as they landed. The foggy scene was lite up by a vivid orange sun going down behind the trees resulting in some perfect duck reflections.
every year, in santa ponça, a town born of german footprints and mallorcan sunshine, there’s a christmas market. it sprawls on a parking lot beside the highway, where summer never truly leaves. the hofbräuhaus is dark, save for two sharp beams of sunlight slicing through the gloom. two women sit, half-lit, their drinks between them, while a man in a worn apron passes like a shadow.
christmas here feels out of place. the sun steals the magic; the shadows try to give it back.
shot with the voigtländer 50mm nokton vm asph. f/1. the exif data is wrong.
a woman wrestles with her storm-wrecked umbrella, caught mid-movement, while a man watches from the edge of shadow — still, observant, immovable. two strangers, side by side, each within their own storm.
The old-fashioned typewriter is a symbol of a bygone era. With its clacking keys and sturdy metal frame, it once sat proudly on every writer's desk. Unlike modern computers, typewriters required focus and precision — there was no delete key, only the rhythm of ink striking paper. Each letter carried the weight of intention. Though now mostly replaced by digital devices, the typewriter still holds a certain nostalgic charm, reminding us of a time when writing was a slower, more deliberate craft.
A tiny silhouette, like a traveler atop a vast world, guided by a single glimmer. Was it the sunset it sought—or simply a moment of peace… just like us, sometimes?
insect, silhouette, sunset, golden light, nature, poetic, macro, storytelling, emotion, peaceful, wanderer, adventure, dusk, soft background, contemplative, minimalism, warm tones, natural light, backlight, close-up
on a busy madrid afternoon, life paused on a bench. his head dipped forward, lost to a moment of rest, while she leaned in closer, tethered to the glow of her phone. they were together, yet apart—bound by time, habit, and the comfort of shared silence. the hum of the city went on around them, indifferent and distant. it was a simple scene, but the kind that lingers, a quiet testament to enduring companionship.
I’d love to know what the antennae on the sides of the cabin are?
The graffiti artists are getting lots of practice.
The Morris Minor Traveller was launched in 1952 as a new variant of the original Morris Minor saloon from 1948. The iconic vehicle with its unique ash wood frame was originally supplied with an 800cc engine and a split front windscreen but in 1956 they replaced it with a one piece and a new 950cc engine. A symbol of its era normally driven in films by vicars and members of the village WI it ceased production in 1971 after 180,000 had been produced.
See the rest of the Brighton Street series so far:
Nature at its best. This tree looked like it had been blown over in a storm but had secured it branches lower down the hill and carried on growing. Survival of the fittest.
NB: This pic was taken in Knowle Park, Sevenoaks BUT 6 of the 7 Oak trees that gave Sevenoaks its original name were blown down in the Great Storm of 1987. Sevenoaks became just oneoak!!
The lock gates were open to allow the boat from my last photo through. It meant I could capture a perfect reflection of the still blue water, the cliffs, the walls of the lock and the huge contraption which lifts the boats out of the water and into the dry dock and the Marina boatyard. Not sure what it’s called but I’ll ask.
A lot of in/out of the water and on/off of the rocks was going on for these photographers to capture the images they wanted. Personally I would have liked somebody/something sitting in the chair.
No I didn't go to the Chelsea Flower Show. I tried it once and found it far to expensive, crowded and overwhelming for me. Instead I went to Chelsea in Bloom and Belgravia in Bloom. A train to Victoria and then wandering the streets admiring and photographing to my hearts content.
"I thought all three of us were looking for juicy bugs! My advantage would have been that I was right there, next to my dad's digging operation, and Mr. Blackbird was way too far to get the next worm coming up from mud. As it turned out, Mr. Blackbird wasn't there for worms after all! He was there to harass and attack my dad!!! I don't understand. Maybe he just doesn't know how nice and loving my family is."
- The Gosling ❤️-
Every summer, we visit Cadzand-Bad, a peaceful beach town in southwestern Netherlands, making it a family tradition. While building sandcastles and playing chess with the grandchildren, I seek quiet moments to take photographs. This particular shot was captured at low tide when wind and water shaped these natural patterns in the sand. A striking sky above enhances the scene, creating a vivid contrast between tranquility and storminess that I enjoy capturing.
For a change of scenery I took a walk around the West harbour wall. It looks south back towards the marina, Black Rock, Brighton and the South Coast. It’s mainly used by the fishermen, bird spotters and the occasional walkers like me. I don’t know what the round tower was built for but there is an old toilet and sink in there, presumably for the fishermen.
A cyclist in the new cycle lane - A rare occurrence.
There’s been a cycle lane on the very wide pavement from Brighton Marina, all the way through Brighton and Hove to Shoreham for as long as I can remember. The new, brightly painted cycle lane now takes up half of Madeira Drive and there is a one way system for cars on the other half. The cyclists have mainly stayed on the original pavement cycle lane which is just as well as the new one is closed for safety reasons.
Donovan said "to be mellow is to be cool, to be laid back but it doesn't have to be with smoke. It can be through meditation'.
The yellow on the end of the rope with the remains of a geranium tangled in it caught my eye. It was all tangled in slime which I guess created the yellow.
but the strangest Christmas day ever - no family, no friends, no hugs, no kisses and a visit to the nursing home where I had to wear a full gown with full length sleeves and gloves, mask and shield ☹️
I thought Flickr fiends might be getting bored with my starling pics so I decided to be a little bit more creative... ..... and then I got carried away.
Post processed to the MAX
she sat alone, staring into the distance.
not waiting. not thinking.
just resting where the sky met the water.
i saw her from the promenade in palmanova.
she didn´t move. the sea didn ´t either.
There's a place for us,
somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air.
Wait for us somewhere.
As I walked home along the beach I came across this ornate chair with the complete lyrics of 'Somewhere' by Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim written word for word around it all. Surreal!
in the heart of new york’s oculus, light weaves through steel like a modern cathedral’s embrace. two figures, grounded yet small, walk in the space, dwarfed by the sweeping curves and sheer height above. they move in unison, caught in the rhythm of this architectural marvel, each step mirroring the structure’s vastness around them.