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Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 5
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< Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 4
The water poured down with a splash, sheets flowing from her body as it cleansed her body and mind. A shower. She knew the name, but this... this was far better than she expected. Not like the rain, this water made you feel clean... refreshed.
The water clicks off.
"s̷h̷o̷w̷e̷r̷ ̷c̷y̷c̷l̷e̷ ̷c̷o̷m̷p̷l̷e̷t̷e̷"
The voice startles her to jump with a verbal squeak.
"Are you okay?"
His voice calls from the other side of the door.
"I'm fine.. This... thing? just said my shower was over..."
She's standing in the shower with the unit beeping and water dripping from the shower, now off.
He lets out a hearty laugh.
"Sorry for not warning you about that, they limit us to how much water we use. Were you able to finish?"
"Mhmm"
She dries off, squeezes her hair dry, and wraps the towel around her.
"Was there anything that you found would fit me?"
"Well, yes... but... everything I own is for men... definitely not a woman your size. I still had a few things that got confiscated when I was with CorGen and I washed them, but...."
He hesitated.
"It's fine, it can't be any worse than walking around in a towel."
Her legs were covered in goosebumps, rubbing her arms to stay warm. The heat systems at this altitude weren't exactly great. She sticks her arm out the door, cracked open just enough.
"D̴͚̜͓̳͓͈̭̀̓͐͒̇͑̐͜A̴͍͚̦̘̚T̶̨̡̘̬̰̼̪̋͂̓̋̉̒̅̓͜͝A̸͉͐̆͑͊́̾̿̕͠͝ ̸͖͎͗̒ͅÇ̸̠̻̪̦͊͗͛̍̀̃͘̚͝͝Ŏ̵̡͇̻̝̝̯͖̘̌̾R̸̨̲̤͉̣̠̼̣͎͐̈́̀͌Ŗ̴̯̰̂̈̐̽̿̏̔̎̏̐Ṵ̸̪̘̘͍̦͇̜̞̮̎́̀P̵̢̡̫̗̬͍͎͠T̶̖̰̣̲͔̗̜͖͎̪͗̈́͐̎́̃͘͝ ... you didn't really think I wouldn't be expecting you... did you?"
He kicks the ground.
"You know, I didn't even go there looking for him. Nice cover, by the way. But hey, I guess it was just my lucky day right? I owed that motherfnck3r." Vinzer smiles a vicious smile filled with perfectly aligned, perfectly white, perfectly fake teeth.
The four lapdogs surrounding her are all visibly eager. She sizes each one up carefully. One to the left. One to the right. Vinzer in front, with one flanking him on each side. Prioritize close combat targets. She thinks to herself. Remeber what he taught you. Know their next three moves. Then nine. Keep going until they don't.
"Do you give them doggie treats after each mission?"
"Is this /REALLY/ all you had?"
She sighs.
He stammers.
"I... I swear. I can go to a store and find something for you right now. Just give me li-"
"No. It's... fine."
Her face feels like it's on fire. The bodysuit barely covered anything. Confiscated? Of course the confiscated box would be from a strip club. Her body can't help but react, thinking about his eyes on her.
The door opens slowly and she takes a tedious step forward. She tries to be modest, but the tiny bit of cloth covering her made that difficult.
He's sitting on the sofa, focused on the comm in his hand when he looks up to see her. The comm drops to the floor with a dull thud. He stands up slowly, almost instinctively.
The first strike is from the agent to her left. She parries with an elbow and follows it with the muzzle of her pistol right to the female agents chest.
One.
She weaves to avoid the next shot, gunfire from the agent to her right. She swings her arms over her shoulder sending two shell casings clattering as the agent slumps to the ground.
Two.
An open shot. She moves to take down Vinzer, but the slippery rat dodges behind his own teammate to use them as a shield. Good thing it was a full synthetic. Now it's about... two-thirds of one.
Three.
He walks towards her, quiet. His eyes fixed on her. Her thighs press together, as though she can feel his eyes touching everywhere he gazes.
"w-what?" Her voice is weak, why is her heart racing like this?
He just shakes his head.
"I.. you... you're beautiful."
"It's... just this outfit. You put me in something too sexy..."
Her body is aflame. It feels like fire would erupt from her every pore. Hot. Burning.
Now only inches from her, his hand reaches up and tilts her head up by the chin to meet his gaze. So tall. So strong. So... big.
She bites her lip, making it sting slightly.
He moves forward, slowly urging her back towards the wall. It's cold against her skin. Like ice, compared to how hot she feels. She slides her calf against his, wrapping her thigh around his and pressing against him.
His hands move to the straps of her bodysuit, slowly sliding them down until they go past her wrists. They're both breathing heavily, chests heaving. She musters only four words...
"Like what you see?"
A fist slams her jaw, stars dance in her head for a moment.
The last thug grabs her from behind, arm wrapped around her neck. Thunder rings in her ears. A clang. Searing pain.
"How does it feel to take a shotgun point blank? Even your suit can't stop all of the force. I should know, I helped them test the d4mn things."
Vinzer stands holding a tactical shotgun just feet away.
"ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ, ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ꜱᴜɪᴛ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ.
ʙɪᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴇᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ:
ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ ɪɴ ʀɪʙꜱ 3, 4, 6, 7, ᴀɴᴅ 12.
ʜᴀɪʀʟɪɴᴇ ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴏʀᴀᴄɪᴄ ᴠᴇʀᴛᴇʙʀᴀᴇ.
ɪɴᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ʜᴇᴍᴏʀʀʜᴀɢɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇꜱᴏᴘʜᴀɢᴜꜱ."
The suits lecture isn't what she needed right now.
"Fnck. You."
The attack had stunned her, and now her guns were at her feet. She tugs at the thugs hold, twisting hard, and another blast roars through the streets.
The thug falls to the ground in a wet splat.
Four.
"Are you fncking serious??"
Vinzer fumes as she stumbles forward to her knees. The thug blocked most of the blast, but her back was almost numb from the pain.
She coughs. She knows now. There was never any chance of turning back. This is her judgement, and Vinzers requiem.
And not she or him could do a d4mn thing to avoid it.
Her hands slide under his shirt, the chest hair running between her fingers. His hands slide down her back, lower... lower... then lifts her up to be face to face.
She giggles softly and wraps her legs around his waist. His deep growls and firm grip send lightning through her body. His breath is warm against her chest as she runs her hands through his hair.
His scent, smooth and cool yet worn and rugged. She pulls his shirt open, buttons clatter to the floor. Feeling his bare skin against hers she leans in and bites his neck gently, letting her tongue run against his skin.
Her hands find his belt buckle and promptly release it. She moans low into his chest feeling him swell against her. He presses her hard against the wall as he drops the bodysuit to the floor.
Imposing. That's how most anyone would describe him. Few people stood taller, and her arms didn't even come close to fitting around his chest. No matter how you looked at him, he was a big man. His hands grip her hips firmly as he pulls her down until she can't go any further. She lets out a sound from her mouth she didn't even know possible. Deep, for her, and growling in ecstasy. A /very/ big man.
He lifts her to her knees by her hair. The back of his hand cracks against her mask.
"Just like good old times, right?"
His fist slams between her eyes and she falls back from the force.
Vinzer tosses a clump of blue hair to the side.
"What was it that came next? I forget... was it a kick to the stomach, or a knee to the head?"
Red mist pumps from the mask as she rolls to her back.
"Fnck it, let's go for double points." The steel toe of his shoe slams into the mask, snapping her head to the side like a whip. Silence. Darkness.
His muscles flex against her, the movements smooth, steady. Her hips roll, as his soft grunts set the rhythm. Her arms wrap under his to hold his shoulders as her legs bounce in the air.
His fingers slide along her neck, his palm pressing against her throat softly. His hand moves up, and to the back of her head while the other arm wraps her waist like a massive python. He leans back, pulling her from the wall and holds her as his arms guide her body. Faster now. She gives in completely. Her body tenses suddenly, then goes limp as she lets out a muffled moan into his neck.
Her mind races as she's filled with warmth, love. His love. Her mind reels in pleasure. Nothing ever felt more right.
She lays on the sofa relaxing, crop top and panties as usual. The door latch clicks. She checks the time.
"Welcome home!" She bounces up from the sofa and does her best to tackle the man.
"Wow. You really put the shine on her, dint ya?" Jessups voice is unmistakable.
"I did nothing of the sort." He's stern, more than usual.
When she realizes, she ducks behind a cabinet. "Hey! Why are you here??" She tries to cover herself.
"Jessup is just helping me bring up some boxes from the storeroom so I didn't have to make 2 trips." He slides the box over and stacks the one from Jessup on top. "Thanks, I'll stop by later so you can check the actuator in my knee. It's been a bit glitchy."
"Ya ya, no freebies this time." Jessup shuffles to the stairs. "Full price!"
"So what have you been up to?" He pulls her close as he shuts the cabinet door she was hiding behind.
"Well, first I went out and sold myself to EVERY guy on the block." She giggles.
"Oh really? Did you make a lot?" He squeezes her.
"Oh lots, but THEN I went and bought all of the expensive clothes I've wanted." She wiggles against him.
"Oh, then I get a fashion show?" His hands sneak lower.
"I don't need new clothes to do that for you..." She looks down and pulls the loose collar of her top off her shoulder, then looks back up to him softly biting her lips as she peers up from under her long eyelashes.
His lips press against her forehead. "So what did you really do?"
"I had an early delivery, then a commute across town to get another in the afternoon. That's about all. Also... I cleaned!" She points at the floors.
"Did said cleaning involve dancing?" He chuckles, knowing the answer.
"Duh, like I would clean and NOT dance." She slithers her body against his.
He spins her around like a ballroom dancer. "I'm glad your day was good."
"Yep! Let's celebrate!" She springs around the apartment, stopping at the sofa and leaning over the back to talk to him.
"I've been here for a month now!"
"Oh, you are absolutely correct. That most definitely /is/ reason to celebrate. So..."
The word echoes in her mind.
"Where are we going?"
They lay back on the bed, content and worn. "I'm sorry... you might need another shower..." His voice is soft from heavy breathing.
She giggles and snuggles into his chest. "Want to share one?" Her voice is seductive and low.
He pulls her close and sighs contently as a moments eternity of peace gives them a tiny taste of respite.
She lays on top of him, both sweaty and panting. "Let's leave."
"What?" He blinks, surprised by the statement, looking down into her eyes.
"Let's leave. This place. It's... rotten. Maybe if there was some order.. or even just... someone that cared. This isn't the place to start a life." She draws patterns on his chest with the tip of her finger as she lays her cheek against him.
"You know I'd go anywhere with you. Just say the word." He brushes her hair back over her ear.
"I just.... I want it to be us. Just us. No CorGen. No thugs. No more operations. What if... one day... you don't come back to me?" A tear wells in her eye and drops onto his skin.
"Ok. Fine. So..."
The word echoes in her mind.
"Where are we going?"
"... *crackle* to *krzzzzz*ie."
.
.
.
"... going to *digital noise*"
.
.
.
"You're going to DIE!"
It's warm, but cold at the same time. She's here, but everywhere also.
"... up."
.
.
.
"get*static*"
She looks where her hand should be. Nothing. Everything is white. There's nothing but... light.
"I knew you'd do something reckless." His voice comes from beside her, behind her, inside her. "You have to get up. If you don't, you're going to die."
"Am I dead?" She tries to look around but there's no left or right, up or down.
"I need you to listen. I wasn't... entirely honest with you. That place... where they kept you. It wasn't just a place to torture you. They did things. Horrible things. Vinzer was taking young girls from the streets and using implants to force them to do what he wanted. Murder, robbery, and... other things. But you... nothing they did would break you. I couldn't do it any more. Chasing you down, dragging you back to that place. Your screams..."
He looks away.
"I left his crew, and the moment I could come get you... I did."
"Why?" She wants to cry. "Why did you lie to me?"
"I didn't want to force you to remember. Any of it. It was wrong. Can you forgive me?"
His words are soft.
"I love you." Her response comes without any will of her own.
"I can't make it right, but I can help you... one more time. All of the VES suits, they're modeled after you. You were subject #000. When I worked on your suit, I linked it to your neural implant..."
His explanation makes little sense.
Her mind interrupts. "You're dead."
"Well, yes... technically. And... technically, so are you." His voice doesn't waver.
"Dead?" She questions.
"Yes. For now." He sighs. "All done. I love you. You don't have to do this. Please. Get out of there. Run. Don't look back. Forget me. Forget the city. Be free. I'll always be watching you, my love."
The white fades to gray. "I love you. My light." Her thought sends vibrations through her reality, shattering it to nothingness. Dark. Quiet.
The apartment is pitch black, the only sound the rain pattering against the windows.
Quiet. Dark.
"D̴̀̓A̴͍̚T̶̋͂A̸͐͠ ̸͗̒C̸͊͘Ŏ̵̌R̸͐̈́R̴̂̈U̸̎́P̵̢͠T̶͗͘???" She calls for him. Silence. Her eyes adjust, and she sees the apartment in shambles.
"D̴̀̓A̴͍̚T̶̋͂A̸͐͠ ̸͗̒C̸͊͘Ŏ̵̌R̸͐̈́R̴̂̈U̸̎́P̵̢͠T̶͗͘?!?!?!?!?!" She calls out again, and again... silence. She flicks the lights, nothing.
She uses the light of her comm to look around frantically. Calling his name, over and over. As she turns the corner to their bedroom she falls to her knees.
Her hands shake as she reaches for his... Cold. She screams in pain. It's so dark. So cold. She can't see his light.
She drags herself close to his still body and lays her head on his chest. "You can't go... you can't leave me..."
The door bangs open suddenly and Jessup rushes in carrying a flashlight. "Is everyone alright? I heard a screa-" He stops abruptly as he sees her. "Oh fnck..."
She turns towards Jessup, eyes cold as the oceans depths. "Jessup..." Tears stream down her face. "My light..." The words barely escape her lips.
"They took him from me."
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Sound City Files, Volume 1 - Chapter 6 >
😭😭😭😭😭*kicks and punches at the air* Go get em! RAWR!! lol
I love how this shot came out. I always proof my photos before I post them, andthis one was just sooo much fun. I took a backdrop, modified it for use in the city, then used it as a more elaborate backdrop. I think there's probably about 150 lights in that shot. Seriously. There's definitely thousands of particles. I know everyone I've shown previews to has been really amped up about it! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did taking it!
Only a couple of chapters left.... are you ready?
EDIT: I'm sorry about the formatting. Flickr feels that they should modify what you enter. I'm not sure why... but they do. I also can't use anything to format it more properly since they ignore or remove the formatting. Please reach out if you know of a way to keep formatting when I post descriptions. Thanks! :)
❤️ Epi!
Available @ Red Light District Event September 15th!
Emanates particles & plays sounds when you bump into someone!
• 12 Particle Effects & Associated Sounds
• HUD Control
• Particles On/Off
• Sounds On/Off + Volume Control
• Randomized Particles
Try the 2 minute demo at RLD
Berlin, 1.2021
"Après avoir passé le Checkpoint Charlie berlinois avec force chicaneries – nous avions provoqué le Vopo en mettant l’autoradio à plein volume, Bowie : « We are the goon squad and we’re coming to town, beep, beep » – nous nous promenons vers cinq heures de l’après-midi en direction de l’Alexanderplatz, encore gonflés à bloc par nos journées passées côté Ouest, et nous voyons des lapins jouer dans l’herbe, au milieu de la ville, pendant que de l’autre côté du mur, les gaz d’échappement s’amoncellent et que les rangées interminables d’autos scintillent dans la lumière – on pouvait le voir de la haute tour de l’Est."
>>> Stefan Hertmans.......in: Entre villes (1998)
"After passing Berlin's Checkpoint Charlie with much quibbling – we had provoked the Vopo by turning up the car radio, Bowie : "We are the goon squad and we're coming to town, beep, beep" – we stroll towards Alexanderplatz around five in the afternoon, still pumped up from our days on the West side, and see rabbits playing in the grass in the middle of the city, while on the other side of the wall the exhaust fumes are piling up and the endless rows of cars glitter in the light – you could see it from the high tower on the East."
"Nachdem wir den Berliner Checkpoint Charlie mit viel Gezeter passiert hatten – wir hatten den Vopo provoziert, indem wir das Autoradio auf volle Lautstärke aufdrehten, Bowie : "We are the goon squad and we're coming to town, beep, beep" – wir schlendern gegen fünf Uhr nachmittags in Richtung Alexanderplatz, noch aufgepumpt von den Tagen auf der Westseite, und sehen Kaninchen im Gras spielen, mitten in der Stadt, während sich auf der anderen Seite der Mauer die Abgase stapeln und endlose Reihen von Autos im Licht glitzern – man konnte es vom hohen Turm im Osten sehen."
Spencer Douglass Crockwell (1904-1968) was an American commercial artist and experimental filmmaker. He was most famous for his illustrations and advertisements for “The Saturday Evening Post” and for murals and posters for the Works Progress Administration (WPA) and for various branches of the U.S. Government during World War II. He also created poster art for the MGM film “The Yearling” (1946).
In 1934, Crockwell began experimenting with films while balancing his career as an illustrator. He initially wanted to create flexible, low-cost animation techniques. In 1936-1937, he collaborated with David Smith, a sculptor, to create surrealistic films. [Source: Wikipedia]
Cobbles! I think I never encountered more extensive stretches of real ancient gnarly medieval cobble stones like in the old cities of the eastern Harz region. Namely Quedlinburg which really surprised me with the really widestretched historic part of old buildings, alleys and places. Nearly all paved by such cobbles. These and the ones of the neighbour town Blankenburg would swallow my not that small 28 mm tires easily between them. So if you ever want to do extensive city exploring in those towns some big volume tires wouldn’t be the worst of ideas.
I'm scheming with Jenny (krousegirl2) to make a an over-sized throw quilt for a Sandy Hook student. Our overall theme is "low volume." I may have gone a little bit overboard with the bright colors in choosing some of the prints, but I think Jenny's beautiful blocks will even the score. These blocks of strips will be sewn together in the rail fence pattern.
I plan to straight line quilt this on my machine. I did just recently reach out to a local long arm studio to see if they might consider volunteering to quilt it, but I don't know if they will. It is a busy time for people in their business. I just thought it would be nice to try and see if a longarmer would get involved because it would make it that much more beautiful.
I mentioned a couple of crafty ways to help the community in Newtown on my blog today. Link here:
applecyder.wordpress.com/2012/12/19/crafty-ways-to-help/ (I love the snowflake idea! So simple but I bet it is going to be beautiful!!! I hope they get overwhelmed with packages of snowflakes from people around the world.)
Kengo Kuma and Associates was asked by cake brand SunnyHills to come up with a shop design that mirrors the careful preparation of the company's trademark pineapple cakes, so the architects developed a volume modelled on a well-crafted bamboo basket.
Over 5000 metres of wooden strips were used to construct the precise 3D grid that wraps around around the outer walls and ceiling of the three-storey building. Some pieces were cut shorter than others, revealing multiple layers and reducing the overall linearity.
"Our aim was to create a forest in the busy city centre," said Kengo Kuma. "We studied how lighting states would change in a day in the woods, and came up with a shape like a basket."
The narrow slats are arranged at angles of 30 and 60 degrees, creating hundreds of diamond-shaped hollows, and were assembled by local Japanese craftsman.
"I consider that wood joints without glues or nails are the essence of Japanese architecture," added Kuma. "What is characteristic about SunnyHills is the angle of the lattice; unlike the conventional 90 degrees, we tried 30 degrees and 60 degrees to combine the pieces.
"By designing with these varied angles, we were able to achieve a shape and a frame that evokes a forest," he added.
This shop, specialised in selling pineapple cake (popular sweet in Taiwan), is in the shape of a bamboo basket. It is built on a joint system called "Jiigoku-Gumi", traditional method used in Japanese wooden architecture (often observed in Shoji: vertical and cross pieces in the same width are entwined in each other to form a muntin grid). Normally the two pieces intersect in two dimensions, but here they are combined in 30 degrees in 3 dimensions (or in cubic), which came into a structure like a cloud. With this idea, the section size of each wood piece was reduced to as thin as 60mm×60mm.
As the building is located in middle of the residential area in Aoyama, we wanted to give some soft and subtle atmosphere to it, which is completely different from a concrete box. We expect that the street and the architecture could be in good chemistry.
Source: Dezeen
rail fence blocks sewn from PAPER and FOR YOU, both collection by Brigitte Heitland from Zen Chic for Moda
Part of Bristol Light Festival 2025
Anthems: Volume One is an immersive laser installation celebrating Bristol’s epic Drum & Bass legacy, created by artist Marcus Lyall, with a soundtrack compiled by Bristol DnB Collective, RUN. The installation fuses choreographed laser animation and a high-quality sound system to create a synaesthetic experience that brings some of Bristol’s best loved sounds to life. Taking over an empty shop near Cabot Circus, Anthems: Volume One is designed to be a thrilling but accessible experience, bringing together music and art lovers alike.
Artist: Marcus Lyall & RUN Collective
Quaker's Friars, Bristol
Please do not use my photos without permission. Feel free to contact me if you have a request.
Manuscript title: Silver Book of the Land
Manuscript summary: On 86 leaves of parchment, the Silver Book of the Land contains the statutes of the entire region of Appenzell. It is an assemblage of older legal texts; at a later time more recent statutes were added to it. Following the division of the region of Appenzell that took place in 1597, the book became the property of the Canton of Appenzell Innerrhoden and remained valid into the 19th century. Rich decorations consisting of miniatures and initials indicate the great importance attributed to this volume.
Origin: Appenzell (Switzerland)
Period: 16th century
Image source: Appenzell, Landesarchiv Appenzell Innerrhoden, E.10.02.01.01: Silver Book of the Land (www.e-codices.unifr.ch/en/list/one/laai/E-10-02-01-01)
Title.
E Weekend.
( LUMIX G3 shot )
Manhattan. New York. USA. 2017. … 4 / 6
Images:
Drake - Laugh Now Cry Later ft. Lil Durk
youtu.be/JFm7YDVlqnI?si=a9_Ovo-jmTB8Wnef
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
Volume 13 😄
The following is still in its draft stage and will be revised further.
Key parts are not disclosed.
The order of the content shown here is mixed.
(Of course, this is not the final version.)
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
The Republican Party had chosen Justin Bradford as its presidential candidate.
In response, the Democrats put forward Ryan Bennett.
Ryan sat in a room of his white-walled mansion on South Beverly Drive, gazing out at the manicured garden and tree-lined street. His mind drifted back to his childhood. He had always lived within a carefully calculated order. His days followed a strict timetable; his homework was flawless. Teachers praised him, while classmates kept their distance. To Ryan, being a model student was both a source of pride and a burden of solitude.
In the hush of the library, he first brushed against the realm of politics. During student council debates, his logic seldom drew applause, and often invited cold stares. People were moved by instinct and emotion. Reason alone could not stir the crowd—this he came to understand.
It was in that abyss of loneliness that Sophia appeared. A gentle voice, steady eyes, and a generosity that never rejected his logic but embraced it instead. They exchanged words, they shared silences, and in each other’s presence they found solace. Sophia was not only the one who steadied his reason, but also the light that warmed his solitude.
After graduating from UCLA, Ryan stepped onto the path of politics. First as a state legislator, then as a member of Congress, he rose without falter. Yet the public gaze remained cold. His patrician face, his meticulous speeches, his flawless reasoning—all these bred distance and resentment. People whispered, “Another elite come to lecture us.”
In that harsh world, his running mate, Alex Murphy, stood by him. Eight years his senior, Murphy possessed a seasoned intuition and decisiveness. He bridged the gap between Ryan’s logic and the people’s emotions, reading the shifting tides of resentment and expectation.
Then came the day when former Democratic president Owen Reed was struck by a sniper’s bullet during a speech. The shot did not take his life, but Ryan felt, with a shudder, the cruelty of the political stage. That night, alone in his study, he stared at the shadow cast by the streetlamp beyond his window. The long silhouette mirrored the solitude and the weight of order he had carried all his life.
Doubt flickered in his eyes, reflecting the city’s lights. Should he follow reason and order, or turn toward the people’s emotions? Having walked the path of the elite, he now saw that logic alone could not redeem reality. Without Sophia’s warmth and Murphy’s intuition, he might not have been able to take another step forward.
Sophia quietly took his hand. “You are not alone. We are here.”
Ryan gave the faintest nod, feeling the chains of solitude loosen, little by little, in the depths of his heart.
During his university years, Ryan had often felt estranged from the public. The scarce applause at debates, the cool reception of his political essays, the smirks at his street speeches. His arguments were correct, but people yearned for emotion. Logic alone could not move them.
Sophia understood her role as the wife of a politician. She stayed by Ryan’s side when public duties drained him, offering the warmth of home. On quiet nights, they would simply sit together, thinking wordlessly of the future.
Murphy, by contrast, acted on instinct. In moments of crisis, he guided Ryan—the tightening of security after the shooting, the handling of the media, the appeal to the public. Where reason could not reach, experience took over. Ryan came to rely on him, and to trust him deeply.
His solitude was also the weight of politics itself. Cool analysis, flawless planning, correct judgment. Yet often, the people could not understand. A reason stripped of feeling drew criticism, and deepened his isolation.
And yet, Sophia made him human. She gave warmth to cold logic, and the power to reach hearts. Murphy, with his decisiveness and experience, built a bridge between reason and emotion.
When the news of the shooting reached him, Ryan felt fear as something tangible for the first time. Politics could not be defended by theory from a study alone. Confusion, the crack of gunfire, the press of terror—faced with them, he knew his own helplessness.
Streetlamps reflected in his eyes; bloodstains on rubble, neighbors clasping hands, mothers crying out. Reality pressed itself upon him. Reason alone could not save, nor logic alone preserve order. Compassion, empathy—these were what people needed.
Sophia spoke softly. “Logic matters. But now is the time to show your heart. People are seeking empathy.”
Ryan smiled faintly and set down his pen. The alignment of order was paused; he resolved to entrust himself to the waves of feeling.
Murphy looked out the window and nodded gently. “Do not fear, Ryan. Your reason, my intuition, Sophia’s warmth—together, they will keep us true.”
Buoyed by those words, Ryan slowly cast aside the shadow of solitude.
The attempt on Owen Reed’s life was both terror and warning. Yet it was also a teacher, revealing the reality of the political stage. Ryan grasped its weight, and steeled himself to go forward.
On the street corner, trembling citizens; beneath the rubble, neighbors holding hands; a mother’s anguished cry. As he listened, Ryan was tested—not only as a politician, but as a human being. Torn between reason and emotion, he found in Sophia and Murphy an unshakable support.
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title.
E Weekend.
( LUMIX G3 shot )
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 4 / 6
Images:
Drake - Laugh Now Cry Later ft. Lil Durk
youtu.be/JFm7YDVlqnI?si=a9_Ovo-jmTB8Wnef
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第13弾。 😄
以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。
重要な部分は公開していません。
公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。
(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
共和党大統領候補のジャスティン・ブラッドフォードに対し、民主党は、ライアン・ベネットを選出していた。
ライアン・ベネットは、サウス・ベヴァリー・ドライブ沿いの白壁の豪邸の一室に座り、窓の外に広がる手入れの行き届いた庭園と並木道を見つめながら、子供の頃の自分を思い出していた。幼い日の彼は、常に計算された秩序の中にいた。時間割通りに生活し、宿題も常に完璧に仕上げた。教師は彼を褒め、同級生は距離を置いた。彼にとって、優等生であることは誇りであると同時に孤独でもあった。
図書館の静寂の中で、彼は初めて政治の片鱗に触れた。学生自治会の討論で、彼の論理は拍手を浴びることはなく、しばしば冷たい視線に晒された。人々は直感や感情で動く。理屈だけでは、群衆の心を動かせないのだと、彼は知った。
その孤独の淵に、ソフィアが現れた。柔らかい声、落ち着いた眼差し、そして彼の論理を拒むことなく受け止める包容力。二人は言葉を交わし、沈黙を共有し、互いの存在に慰めを見いだした。ソフィアは、ライアンの理性を支えるだけでなく、彼の孤独を温める光でもあった。
カリフォルニア大学ロサンゼルス校卒業後、ライアンは政治の道を歩み始めた。州議会議員として、そして連邦議会議員として、彼は順調に昇りつめた。だが、国民の視線は常に冷たかった。エリートの顔つき、整然とした演説、完璧すぎる論理は、多くの人々に距離感と反感を与えた。人々はつぶやく。「また、エリートが我々に説教するのか」と。
副大統領候補のアレックス・マーフィーは、その冷徹な世界にあって、ライアンを支える存在であった。八歳年上の彼は、経験に裏打ちされた直感と決断力を持つ。ライアンの論理と感情の間に立ち、国民の反感や期待の波を読み解く力があった。
民主党前大統領オーウェン・リードが演説中に狙撃された。弾丸は命を奪わなかったが、政治の舞台の残酷さをライアンは身をもって知った。その夜、ライアンは自室の書斎で、窓の外の街灯に映る自らの影を見つめた。長い影は、これまでの人生で背負ってきた孤独と秩序の重さを映していた。
街の灯りに反射する瞳の中には迷いがあった。理性と秩序に従うのか、それとも国民の感情に寄り添うのか。エリートの道を歩んできた彼の目には、論理だけでは救えない現実が見えていた。ソフィアの温もりとマーフィーの直感がなければ、彼は前に進むことさえできなかったかもしれない。
ソフィアはそっと彼の手を握った。「あなたは一人じゃない。私たちがいる」と。
ライアンは微かに肯いた。心の奥で、孤独の鎖が少しずつほどけていくのを感じた。
大学時代、ライアンは何度も国民との乖離を体感した。討論会での拍手の少なさ、政治論文の冷たい評価、街頭演説での冷笑。論理は正しくとも、人々は感情を求める。理屈だけでは、人は動かない。
ソフィアは、政治家の妻としての役割を理解していた。公務で疲弊したライアンに寄り添い、家庭の温もりを提供した。静かな夜、二人はただ座り、言葉少なに未来を思った。
マーフィーは直感で動き、危機的な場面ではライアンを導いた。銃撃事件後の警備調整、メディア対応、国民への呼びかけ。理性だけでは追いつかない現場を、彼は経験で補った。ライアンはその存在を頼りにし、信頼した。
ライアンの孤独は政治の重さでもあった。冷静な分析、完璧な計画、正しい判断。それらが国民に理解されないこともあった。感情に欠ける理性は、時として非難を招き、孤独を深める。
だが、ソフィアの存在が、ライアンを人間らしくした。冷たい論理に温度を与え、心に寄り添う力を持たせた。マーフィーは行動力と経験で、論理と感情の橋渡しを行った。
狙撃事件のニュースを聞いたとき、ライアンは初めて恐怖を身近に感じた。政治は書斎の理論だけでは守れない。瞬間の混乱、銃声、恐怖。それらを前にして、彼は自らの無力を知った。
街角の光、瓦礫の中の血痕、避難する人々。全てが現実として彼の前にあった。理性だけでは救えない、理屈だけでは秩序を維持できない。感情に寄り添い、共感を示すことが必要だった。
ソフィアは静かに語る。「論理は重要。でも今は心を示すとき。人々は共感を求めている」
ライアンは微かに笑い、ペンを置いた。秩序の整列は一旦休止し、感情の波に身を任せる覚悟を決めた。
マーフィーは窓の外を見つめ、微かに肯いた。「恐れるな、ライアン。君の理性、私の直感、ソフィアの温もり。全てがあれば、我々は道を誤らない」
ライアンはその言葉に支えられ、孤独の影を少しずつ振り払った。
オーウェン・リードの狙撃事件は、恐怖であり警告でもあった。だがそれは同時に、政治の舞台の現実を教える教師でもあった。ライアンはその重さを理解し、前に進む決意を固めた。
街角で震える人々、瓦礫の下で手を取り合う隣人、泣き叫ぶ母親。その声に耳を傾け、ライアンは政治家として、そして人間としての判断を試されていた。理性と感情の間で揺れる彼の心に、ソフィアとマーフィーは揺るがぬ支えとして存在していた。
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54758538180/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54743658539/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54737038151/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54720346098/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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The 19th Monorail Monday - Volume 2 - features a sun flared Monorail Silver arriving at the EPCOT Station.
EPCOT Center | Future World | Monorail Silver | Magic Kingdom 40th Anniversary Meet-up
Thanks for looking. I appreciate feedback!
It was the feeling of cold, metallic chains being placed around his wrists that awoke Tim. Burt Weston stood several feet away while his second in command, Jaret Row, stepped away from Tim’s side slowly. Just then realizing that Tim was awake, after chaining him up, Jaret raised his pistol to the Robin’s head, saying,
“Don’t even try it.” More disgruntled than defeated, Tim replied,
“Wasn’t planning on it.” He then took in his surroundings, realizing he was no longer at the studio where the set had burned down. Instead, he was chained to an ornately crafted wall, with columns lining the sides. The celebrity in the Flash suit was lying unconscious underneath another camera, and Weston stood above him, adjusting the settings on the device.
“You know, Robin, now would be an excellent time to monologue about how I’ve defeated you and what I’ll do next. But, alas, I’m not some blockbuster super criminal. I’ve always wanted to be more of that ‘shadow of yourself’ type of character.” Tim chuckled to himself as Weston finished this.
“Seriously Weston, you’re even terrible at that. I’d say you weren’t a villain, but seeing as I’m certain about how this night will play out I unfortunately have to call you the villain.” This statement from Tim caused Weston to hold up the device he had been carrying around in between adjusting the cameras.
“This is what’s been doing it. Injecting the devices into those celebrities heads. All I have to do is…” Weston held the barrel to Tim’s head and pretended to pull the trigger, “…boop! The device gets inserted into their brain then we just need to cover it and then it’s showtime.” Expecting fear from the Robin, Weston was surprised as Tim answered,
“It’s stuff like that…c’mon man, that’s as cheesy as it gets,” Storming away into the shadows behind Row, Weston heard Tim continue, “Let me guess, you have another celebrity hostage and you’re going to make me make a choice that decides if they live or die.” Sure enough, the Film Freak reemerged from the shadows moments later, his device pointed at the back of a young woman dressed in fine clothing.
“This is the climax of our film, Robin, as you remember the typical Hollywood screenplay has-” Weston placed the young woman in front of the camera, with both his device and Row’s gun aimed at her, as he said this. However, once again Tim cut him off,
“Please just explain who this is so I can figure out a way to save her.” Weston looked angrily from Tim to Row as he continued through gritted teeth,
“Our beautiful, young actress for tonight is Ms. Gisele L. Carlyle, author of the hit nonfiction book Murder for the Weak. In said work, Ms. Carlyle denounces so-called super criminals as weak by being unable to express their emotions in a productive way. As you all know, that is not the case for me: I have several finished films…” The room fell silent, “…Alright they’re on the internet, BUT, I think the perfect ironic conclusion to our film is to have our final celebrity appearance denounce her own work. It’ll say a lot about her character: the arc she’s been through, her hardships, and the man who drove her to be this way,” Weston aimed his device at the woman’s head as she nearly made a break by the door but was stopped by one of Row’s bullets whizzing past her head. Turning his attention to Tim, he asked, “Have you ever seen King Kong? Because beauty’s about to kill the beast, bird boy.” Rolling his eyes, Tim replied,
“How about this: I tell you a story instead. It’s about how this situation’s about to go…starting with this-” Tim dug his boots into the set behind him to propel himself into a flip that broke what he had deduced were prop chains. As the fake metal fell to the ground, he landed perfectly in front of both Row and Weston’s line of fire, forcing him to leap into action to evade shots from both weapons.
The 49th Monorail Monday - Volume 2 - shot features Monorail Gold making the loop around Future World.
If you post your Monorail Monday images to Google+, please add the tag #MonorailMonday
EPCOT Center | Future World | Monorail Gold
Thanks for looking! I appreciate feedback.
Every project seems to produce new scraps ... even scrap quilts. At least, I know what to do with the new white and cream scraps. I'll make Christmas presents: coasters, placemats, pouches, notebook covers. It doesn't matter what I make, as long as it is "low volume" because, as usually, I cut way too much squares and strips.