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An abandoned antique store, shot on Portra 400.
===========
One year ago today I was on my way back from a 10 days road trip of midwest America. 365 days passed, as of today I couldn't tell how much I enjoyed that trip. Sometimes such a simple defects of human nature would cause such a prolonged damaging effect. Even I can’t believe it. Do I still hate? Maybe. But it's really no one else to blame but myself, "every dish on our table is because of our own choice".
Time speeds up or slows down for no one — a year has passed. I tried to clean up the broken glasses on the ground by picking them up piece by piece. The result is both satisfying and frustrating: I don't know whether I picked up them all, or there's still one or several left here and there. And most importantly, I don't know if the next person passing by would get injured or not, and I don’t want to risk.
Another thing I noticed: I haven't felt anything as deep as before since the beginning of this year. All the emotions are diluted, same as the feelings. As a writer, this limits my ability of creating and generating new ideas. That's probably the thing that I miss the most.
Compared to today's digital SLR cameras with the ability to burst shoot there was far more skill involved in using a film SLR in taking moving subjects. You basically had one chance to get everything right, Here is a case in point, the composition has not a lot going for it as I am a second or so late in pressing the shutter and the locomotive is far too close to the left side edge of the frame. A fraction of a second later pressing the shutter it would have gone in the waste paper bin as I would have cropped the front of 46056 as it powers through Hitchen at around 90mph with an express for Kings Cross, 1st June 1978.
Locomotive History
46056 was built at Derby Works as D193 and entered traffic in January 1963, allocated to Gateshead MPD for North East – South West cross country and secondary East Coast Main Line duties. It was the last of fifty six Peak class locomotives fitted with Brush electrical equipment instead of Crompton Parkinson which would form Class 46. It would spend the 1960’s and early 1970’s as a Gateshead or Holbeck engine being transferred between the two depots a number of times before settling down at Gateshead in May 1973 for the rest of its career. At the end of October 1982 46056 was withdrawn and stored at Stratford until dispatched to Swindon Works arriving in September 1983 and was broken up during October 1985.
Praktica LIL. Ektachrome 200
On my 200th day after first posting a Flickr foto, I bequeath this Envy Eradication Plan.
How do you handle it when others are “almost always first in” competition with life’s daily races with you. In such a situation, since the jealous person often feels powerless to compete and unable to raise herself up, she tears the other person down.
Envy does not work its evil out in the open. It works behind the scenes under the guise of good. It engages in covert operations. We read in Charles Dickens’ “A Tale of Two Cities”, Book 2, chapter 4, pg. 89 (New York Penguin Books, 2000), “[The] man shows you what you have fallen away from and what you might have been,” says Sydney Carton to himself, as he reflects upon the reason why he so loathes Charles Darnay.
Do you hate the envied person because she makes you feel inferior or guilty or ashamed of yourself? Is not the other person like a mirror in which you see a portrait of what you are not? Do you make people who you envy pay a thousand ways for their giftedness? Do you make them the brunt of jokes and talk behind their backs? Do you give them the silent treatment and “forget” to tell them information that they need to know in order for them to perform their jobs well?” Do you attempt to destroy their good names by sowing seeds of suspicion about them in the minds of your colleagues and friends?
Envy (the Latin invidia, from vedere, to see) has traditionally been associated with the eyes. Envy is the inability to look upon the goods of others with joy. Envy drains one’s life of joy and fills it with fear. St. Thomas defined envy as “sorrow for another’s goods.” But it is a projected sorrow, the sorrow that I do not have what others have. And it is a sorrow that is shot through with fear, the fear that I am less than others.
The envious person is competitive by nature; he is always comparing himself to others, forever looking out of the corner of his eye to see if his neighbor has more, or something bigger or better. The tragedy of the envious person is like that of a child who cannot rejoice in the Christmas present that he is unwrapping because he is spying the gifts that his siblings have received.
If you also have this problem, will you join with me on an elimination plan? Can each of us rid ourselves of envy, by attacking it a little bit at a time? Without always envying others, there is a better ability to find peace and joy in daily life. Guaranteed your inner being will smile more!
EXPLORE # 189 on initial group on February 13, 2008; # 231 & 248 on 02-14-2008.
The ability of nature to produce some of the most vivid and stricking colours imaginable can be clearly seen here in this Green Tiger Beetle. They are approximately 16mm in length.
Chandra's unique ability to precisely locate and resolve individual X-ray sources in 12 globular clusters in our Galaxy has given astronomers a crucial clue as to the origin of these sources. Two clusters, known as NGC 6266 (or M62) and NGC 7099 (or M30), are shown here in this 2003 image.
A globular cluster is a spherical collection of hundreds of thousands and even millions of stars buzzing around each other in a gravitationally bound stellar beehive that is about a hundred light years in diameter. The stars in a globular cluster are often only about a tenth of a light year apart. For comparison, the nearest star to the Sun, Proxima Centauri, is 4.2 light years away.
Most of the point-like sources in these images are binary star systems containing a collapsed star, such as a neutron star or a white dwarf star, that is pulling matter off a normal companion star. While direct, head-on collisions between stars are rare even in these crowded circumstances, close encounters occur and can lead to the formation of binary star systems containing a collapsed star.
The images illustrate a general trend observed for globular clusters. Clusters such as M62 where the stars are packed very closely together and the rate of close encounters is high have more X-ray binaries than those such as M30 in which close encounters occur less often. This is strong evidence that the X-ray binaries in globular clusters are formed by close encounters.
Image credit: NASA/CXC/MIT/D.Pooley et al.
#NASA #MarshallSpaceFlightCenter #MSFC #Marshall #chandraxrayobservatory #ChandraXRay #cxo #chandra #astronomy #space #astrophysics #nasamarshallspaceflightcenter #solarsystemandbeyond #globularcluster
Had a chance to work on some lensless "landscape" photography this weekend. This is a 5-frame in-camera multiple exposure. Months of evaluating and categorizing pieces of glass cullet, plastic, and artistic glassware has yielded a kind of database and vocabulary of caustic patterns. The advent of in-camera multiple exposures has allowed reduction of what used to be hours upon hours of assessing each step of a multi-burn single exposure then figuring out how to sequence it using multiple tripod stations to minutes of hand-held wonder. The ability to see the composition live greatly reduces the effort required to build a composition and decreases the the likelihood of misalignments. It's too easy! Ingredients: Photon Micro light LEDs, 4 pieces of glass/glassware, black plastic masking elements, a few clamps.
New York City, US of A
Escape to New York
October 2011
Caught up with my friend and fellow eBay addict Adam and his lovely girlfriend Roxanne while in NYC. Adam had recently acquired that mint condition Hassleblad... check out his inspiring work with it here: www.flickr.com/photos/jstark4/
This is a scan of the negative, after I scrubbed down all the chemical goo. The texture that appears is part and parcel of the "silk" version of this instant film. I guess it has a certain 'distressed' quality to it. Anyway, apologies for the rough appearance... my ability to "reclaim" these negs is a work in progress. But I liked the shot nonetheless.
Hasselblad 500c/m
Zeiss 80mm 2.8
Fuji 100fp-c silk instant film - scan of reclaimed (rather crudely) negative
Like whirlpools in the ocean, spinning black holes in space create a swirling torrent around them. However, black holes do not create eddies of wind or water. Rather, they generate disks of gas and dust heated to hundreds of millions of degrees that glow in X-ray light.
Using data from NASA’s Chandra X-ray Observatory and chance alignments across billions of light years, astronomers have deployed a new technique to measure the spin of five supermassive black holes. The matter in one of these cosmic vortices is swirling around its black hole at greater than about 70% of the speed of light.
The astronomers took advantage of a natural phenomenon called a gravitational lens. With just the right alignment, the bending of space-time by a massive object, such as a large galaxy, can magnify and produce multiple images of a distant object, as predicted by Einstein.
In this latest research, astronomers used Chandra and gravitational lensing to study six quasars, each consisting of a supermassive black hole rapidly consuming matter from a surrounding accretion disk. Gravitational lensing of the light from each of these quasars by an intervening galaxy has created multiple images of each quasar, as shown by these Chandra images of four of the targets. The sharp imaging ability of Chandra is needed to separate the multiple, lensed images of each quasar.
Image credit: NASA/CXC/Univ. of Oklahoma/X. Dai et al.
The Segwun letting off steam as the passengers are boarding.
Her ability to adapt to 125 years of changes is a model to us all, as North America’s oldest operating hand-fired steamship, the R.M.S. Segwun is the recognized symbol of Muskoka with many believing that her haunting whistle sounds out as the official “heartbeat” which awakens the region each Spring.
"7 Days of Shooting" "Week #8" "Vintage" "Shoot Anything Saturday"
Incipio Round 1
Model: Mailyn Murao
Round 1 of Incipio ! it was a very open round, and It was very dificult to think of a concept and also the styling was hard to do. I came up with something close to Maylins roots, I picked an Oriental concept with her being melancholy about it.
I really hope this is enough to put me through, as I am very unsure about my shot. I really am anxious to see the others D:
If you guys have any remarks, tips, points of improvement say so ! I still have time to shape this up
Full process this time !:
Part 1 (NSFW)
Part 2 will come later, the site is not working properly xd
The ability of these birds to stretch their necks, and the agility they display when doing so, are quite impressive.
I spent a few hours watching this bird hunt the shallow water. While the process was dramatic, the catches were pretty tiny (albeit many).
Brazos Bend State Park in SE Texas - 6/2022Brazos Bend State Park in SE Texas - 6/2022
Name: Limit
Type: MIX
Pilot: Joel Krost
Special Ability: Mono Wheel
Description: This unusual mech, in which the drive is integrated into the overall design. This allows for incredible speed. Due to the low height, and hands it could easily push opponents out of the way. But to make such a maneuver the pilot must try hard, because this robot is very difficult to manage.Therefore for this mech pilot chose very strictly. It turned out to Joel. An ordinary young boy, who was involved in ordinary street racing. Now he has finished successful and known throughout the world. Mech runs on special batteries that can be easily replaced
Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) - Gator Creek Road, Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, Titusville, Florida
The approach-ability to Great Blues can vary considerably in Florida where there are some who will approach fishermen looking for a hand-out from the bait bucket, to other birds that will fly off when you get within 100 yards of them. Needless to say this guy was one of the friendlier ones, though it wasn't looking for a hand out, and was determined to catch its own diner.
It's also a little easier to get close to these guys when you stay in your car, and you can keep something (like the bush in the foreground) between you and the heron.
nikkor lens (probably nikkor AF 50mm f/1.4)
processed at Nation Photo, Paris
Scanned at home with D750 + Kaiser RS2XA + skier sunray copy box
inversion in RawTherapee-5.8 dev branch
Start 20190413
end 20190601
Maggie Chang
A DJ, emcee and singer of Hong Kong.
She got A(01) in English in the HKCEE and obtained her bachelor's degree from the Department of English of The Hong Kong Polytechnic University. She was awarded the Swire Polytechnic Scholarship during the tertiary studies. In 2013, she got a direct offer from Master of Arts in Applied Linguisitcs of The University of Hong Kong.
She has been in love with music since young. She obtained Grade 8 in piano from The Royal Schools of Music, and has started her singing career since 2012.
With her talented language ability, she has also been a trilingual emcee for a huge number of corporate companies in these years.
瑪姬 (Maggie)，DBC數碼電台DJ及監製，前新城電台DJ及監製。
中學就讀聖母書院，在香港中學會考英文科考獲A(01)佳績。學歷為香港理工大學英文系語文及商業（榮譽）文學士，大學期間憑優異成績獲頒「太古獎學金」。2013年獲香港大學直接取錄為英文系應用語言學文學碩士學生。
自小醉心唱歌和演奏鋼琴，考獲英國皇家音樂學院8級鋼琴。2012年推出首支個人派台歌曲《諾貝爾愛情獎》，上榜4星期，登上《新城勁爆本地榜》亞軍。
憑藉其流利廣東話，英語，普通話，入行後被邀為多個國際知名品牌大型活動擔任司儀，成為近年香港其中一位最灸手可熱的三語司儀。
現主持DBC數碼1台節目:
《有姬音樂》(Mon-Fri 20:00-21:00)
《三個女人半邊天》(Sat 13:00-16:00)
《特務008》(Sun 13:00-15:00)
著作：
《沒有他，我寧願孤單一生》(2010)
《精英A班》(2010)
《恨嫁得好的女孩》(2009)
Please view in large size^^
The Hawker Siddeley Harrier is the first of the Harrier Jump Jet series of aircraft. It was developed in the 1960s as the first operational close-support and reconnaissance fighter aircraft with vertical/short takeoff and landing (V/STOL) capabilities and the only truly successful V/STOL design of the many that arose in that era. The Harrier was developed directly from the Hawker Siddeley Kestrel prototype aircraft, following the cancellation of a more advanced supersonic aircraft, the Hawker Siddeley P.1154. The British Royal Air Force (RAF) ordered the Harrier GR.1 and GR.3 variants in the late 1960s. It was exported to the United States as the AV-8A, for use by the US Marine Corps (USMC), in the 1970s.
During the Harrier's service the RAF positioned the bulk of the aircraft in West Germany to defend against a potential invasion of Western Europe by the Warsaw Pact forces; the unique abilities of the Harrier allowed the RAF to disperse their forces away from vulnerable airbases. The USMC used their Harriers primarily for close air support, operating from amphibious assault ships, and, if needed, forward operating bases. Harrier squadrons saw several deployments overseas. The Harrier's ability to operate with minimal ground facilities and very short runways allowed it to be used at locations unavailable to other fixed-wing aircraft. The Harrier received criticism for having a high accident rate and for a time-consuming maintenance process.
In the 1970s the British Aerospace Sea Harrier was developed from the Harrier for use by the Royal Navy (RN) on Invincible-class aircraft carriers. The Sea Harrier and the Harrier fought in the 1982 Falklands War, in which the aircraft proved to be crucial and versatile. The RN Sea Harriers provided fixed-wing air defence while the RAF Harriers focused on ground-attack missions in support of the advancing British land force. The Harrier was also extensively redesigned as the AV-8B Harrier II and British Aerospace Harrier II by the team of McDonnell Douglas and British Aerospace. The innovative Harrier family and its Rolls-Royce Pegasus engines with thrust vectoring nozzles have generated long-term interest in V/STOL aircraft.
Sentinel-1 radar coverage from before and after the 1 April 2017 mudslide in Mocoa, Colombia, shows the extent of movement of the disaster that claimed over 260 lives, injured hundreds more and left scores displaced.
Triggered by heavy rain, the landslide caused greatest movement (red) on top of a mountain. It then pushed mud down across the city of Mocoa (green) and crossed the nearby river.
Sentinel-1’s radar ability to ‘see’ through clouds, rain and in darkness makes it particularly useful for monitoring areas with frequent cloud cover. Images acquired before and after events such as floods, landslides or earthquakes offer immediate information on the extent of affected areas and support assessments of property and environmental damage.
The Sentinel-1-derived data product (from scans on 20 March and 1 April) has been overlaid onto a Sentinel-1 radar image. Sentinel-1 is a two-satellite mission for Europe’s Copernicus environment monitoring programme.
Credit: contains modified Copernicus Sentinel data (2017), processed by I. Parcharidis, Harokopio University of Athens
(If you comment "TL:DR" I will passionately hate you. If this is too long to read, skip it, but you don't need to tell me about it.)
"Do you ever thinking of getting into a different job?"
Salem glanced up from his arc welder, a sense of dread creeping in. He
never knew what to expect when Anvil started like this. It could be the
lead up to a painfully stupid pun, or it could be the start of a question
about something mundane that somehow reveals a soul jarring truth about
society. Salem was slowly adjusting to Anvil's strange ability to be
absurd one moment, and frightfully insightful another. It was a fitting
parallel to Anvil being Salem's partner in business and yet quite
possibly also a spy for the enigmatic Green Corp. Anvil was a double sided
coin.
Sighing deeply, Salem finished his cut and turned his welder off. "Like
what?" he said, raising a quizzical eyebrow.
"Something that isn't run by a company who shares name with a villian from
a movie."
"You watch to many ancient vids. Skynet may be almost on par with a
villain from a vid, but that could be said of all the corporations. And
they pay good."
"Other jobs might pay as good."
"I say again, like what?"
"Like-" Anvil grunted, helping Salem lift the large square of metal away
from the roof and drop it off to the side, "Garbage men."
Salem dropped his end of the plate a little too fast. "Garbage men?" he
asked, surprised. He and Anvil stopped for a moment to look around and
make sure no one heard the loud crash of the plate falling.
"Yeah, y'know, a job where people don't notice you, or shoot at you." If
Anvil was making a joke, his face didn't show it.
"Is this still about Tokushima posting a bounty on us? Skynet has made
sure that it won't be a problem." Salem lowered himself through the hole
they had cut in the building's roof. Anvil crouched on the edge beside
him, covering their rear, "No... well, maybe yes. It just seems like we
are working in a very dangerous field."
Salem looked up, wondering if Anvil was serious. "We're being paid to
shoot things and acquire valuable items. Of course it is dangerous. But we
get to shoot things, and buy gear and armor not available to normal people
like garbage men."
Anvil dropped down into the hole, his feet thumping on the metal grating
of the maintenance room they had cut into.
"Okay, fine, so maybe not garbage men... what about being mercs? They
still get to shoot stuff."
They slowly crept down a narrow passage way leading to a discrete door
that would open out into their target room.
"How is that any less dangerous then what we currently do?"
Salem leaned up against the wall beside the door, Anvil took the other
side.
"I don't know, at least they don't get sent in alone, or when they do it
isn't against the odds we get put against," Anvil whispered to Salem,
nodding that he was ready.
"Yeah but if you are a merc..." Salem turned and ferociously kicked open
the door, pausing the conversation to line up shots on the surprised
guards of the room he was entering. Anvil followed right behind him,
taking the other side of the room. Their Greyhound rifles punched neat
holes through the low-grade armor of the armed guards. The room was
spacious, being almost a full two floor tall, decorated in the round edged
cube fashion that currently very popular. Everything was either a clean
pure white, or a vibrant solid color. Accents were a polished black
chrome. It was the typical highrise penthouse of someone with current
tastes. Which struck Salem as strange, as he thought they were supposed to
be raiding a laboratory. However, the guards were all geared in the
appropriate uniforms, with the right badges. This had to be the correct
place, though why someone would do research on experimental wet-drive data
storage in a penthouse instead of a laboratory didn't make much sense.
Shaking his head free of these thoughts, he finished checking the room.
All clear.
"You were saying?" Anvil asked over his shoulder, holding his rifle aimed
down the hall towards the entrance in case anyone else was in the building
and may have heard them. This was supposed to be the only occupied room at
this time of night. The scientists were all at home, main security was
off, just leaving this guard room that separated the rest of the penthouse
from the room that held the prototype that Salem and Anvil were sent to
"acquire."
Salem paused, remembering what he had been in the middle of saying before
the strangeness of the room had distracted him.
"Ah... yes. Mercs don't get the privilege of having morals. If you want
to be a professional merc who gets hired to do anything interesting, you
most likely need to be willing to throw ethics out the window. In our line
of work we do similar jobs, but all that the suits paying us care about is
that we get the package, they don't care how."
"So we can be careful, avoid innocent casualties... or be reckless and
blow everything up. Doesn't matter which?"
"Exactly."
"That is what I was thinking, this is a good job."
Salem shook he head, "Then why did you even ask if you didn't actually
want to change jobs?"
Anvil shrugged and thought for a minute, then grinned, "Oh, there was a
pretty girl working with the company who picks up the garbage from our
apartment block."
"Anvil... I swear, if you weren't so freakishly gifted at this job, I'd
kick you out this penthouse's window this very instant."
Anvil winked, "Probably, but I am, so you won't. Besides, you've said
yourself that life was fairly boring before I came and-"
"Started intentionally making jobs more complicated and dangerous?"
"-made jobs more interesting."
"Yeah, that may be, but that doesn't mean I can't be angry with you at the
moment." Salem gestured to the door that lead to the package, "After you."
Anvil plugged a hacking module into the keypad and turned back to face
Salem with a grin, "You can try."
"I hate you."
(Comments and notes are welcome, desired even. On both the gun and the story.)
(Like, seriously. Comments make my day.)
(Especially on the story.)
Waterfilm is a series filmed since 2012 based on the idea of filming with a freehand camera for a period of exactly one minute. This series illustrates the meditative qualities of water in an urban environment. It is my belief that the close observation of this essential element has the ability to influence our perceptions. Each film is intended to be a short meditation – take your time to feel it, but don’t swim away too far...
Yanomano
Like other species in the genus, bee-eaters predominantly eat insects, especially bees, wasps and ants, which are caught in the air by sorties from an open perch. Before swallowing prey, a bee-eater removes stings and breaks the exoskeleton of the prey by repeatedly thrashing it on the perch. Migration is not known but they make seasonal movements in response to rainfall. These birds are somewhat sluggish in the mornings and may be found huddled next to each other on wires sometimes with their bills tucked in their backs well after sunrise. They sand-bathe more frequently than other bee-eater species and will sometimes bathe in water by dipping into water in flight. They are usually seen in small groups and often roost communally in large numbers (200-300). The birds move excitedly at the roost site and call loudly, often explosively dispersing before settling back to the roost tree. The little green bee-eater is also becoming common in urban and sub-urban neighborhoods, and has been observed perching on television antennae, only to launch into a brief, zig-zag flight formation to catch an insect, then return to the same perch and consume the meal. This behaviour is generally observed between the hours of 7:00 and 8:00am, and after 4:00pm.
The breeding season is from March to June. Unlike many bee-eaters, these are often solitary nesters, making a tunnel in a sandy bank. The breeding pairs are often joined by helpers. They nest in hollows in vertical mud banks. The nest tunnel that they construct can run as much as 5 feet long and the 3-5 eggs are laid on the bare ground in the cavity at the end of the tunnel. The eggs are very spherical and glossy white. Clutch size varies with rainfall and insect food density. Both sexes incubate. The eggs hatch asynchronously with an incubation period of about 14 days and the chicks grow fledge in 3 to 4 weeks and in the fledging stage show a reduction in body weight.
A study suggested that green bee-eaters may be capable of interpreting the behaviour of human observers. They showed an ability to predict whether a human at a particular location would be capable of spotting the nest entrance and then behaved appropriately to avoid giving away the nest location. The ability to look at a situation from another's point of view was previously believed to be possessed only by primates.
They feed on flying insects and can sometimes be nuisance to bee-keepers.The preferred prey was mostly beetles followed by hymenopterans. Orthopterans appear to be avoided. They are sometimes known to take crabs. Like most other birds they regurgitate the hard parts of their prey as pellets
An endoparasitic nematode (Torquatoides balanocephala) sometimes infects their gizzard.
"We all have the ability to offer love with our friends."
~ Anonymous
memories, memories, memories...
Thanks for stopping by
and God Bless,
hugs, Chris
Good drawing and painting requires more than an ability to create a perfect copy. It requires skill, vision and imagination to transform it beyond. Imagination is the unreal, real state of mind, where all things are experienced as real. Imagination is powerful and is an intermediary step between thought and word. Thoughts are experienced in the imagination before they are manifested into physical reality.
Using little more than random marks and splodges of paint, an artist gradually builds a dynamic picture of what they see and feel. By adding to what they have already created they construct a new reality. And, by removing what isn't required an artist can open a window onto what is important about their subject or ideas.
So, when you stand in front of a great work of art... know that it is much more than a copy.
Taken: A painting by an Artist at Lok Virsa Museum, Islamabad, Pakistan.
It is rare to see this kind of ability to link the past with the present and at the same time adding an esoteric dimension to elements that are familiar to us all.
In Jelinas self-portraits there is an exceptional sense of presence, precision, openness and wound, that only an old soul is capable of. Painters of this kind are rare in our time. Painters who see the demonic reality beneath the surface of everyday life.
-Jyrki Riekki
[197:365]
"The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak." - Hans Hofmann
-----
Yesterday was pale, today I'm going for the opposite effect, vivid colours. I find that the blue of the sky in this photo sort of gives the illusion of a surreal view and there's just something about that effect that works for me with this image.
Another scorcher in the city, I hope if you're experiencing this heatwave you're finding a way to stay cool. I'm a little bit of a loon and live without air conditioning so I'm spending the majority of my time hanging out in front of the fans and crossing my fingers that the heat gives soon, at least for a day or two. I have things that need to get done around the house, but no energy and no desire to heat the house up with things like vacuuming.
Hope you've all had a wonderful day.
Click "L" for a larger view.
Henry London Watches
un'Azienda che premia la mia capacità e che è stata capace di sorprendermi con un omaggio...
Uno, tra gli altri motivi, per cui amo la fotografia.
Grazie mille!
A Company that rewards my ability and who was able to surprise me with a tribute ...
One, among other reasons, so I love photography.
Thanks so much!
Canon EOS
Canon EF-S 17-85mm Is Usm
"Orologi e collaborazioni" è un album che contiene fotografie demo realizzate a tema still-life commerciale orientato al mondo dell'orologeria. Marchi, grandi aziende del settore, ed i loro prodotti che amo fotografare nel dettaglio e nel contesto di utilizzo avvalendomi anche di modelli e modelle attraverso cui mostrare le caratteristiche fashion del prodotto stesso al fine di creare una sorta di personale campagna pubblicitaria da proporre per le aziende che vorranno collaborare con il mio marchio "MR PhotoArt ©".
Watches and collaboration is an album containing photographs taken demo themed commercial still-life oriented to the world of watchmaking. Brands, large companies in the industry, and their products that I love to photograph in detail and in the context of use, making use also of models through which fashion show features of the product itself in order to create a kind of personal publicity campaign to be proposed for Companies that want to collaborate with my "MR PhotoArt ©" brand.
© All rights reserved. Using this photo without my permission is illegal.
© Le immagini contengono filigrana digitale per il copyright e l’autenticazione
© E’ vietata ogni riproduzione e/o utilizzo della/e stessa/e previo specifico accordo con l’autore che ne detiene tutti i diritti e si riserva di poter concederne uso in licenza secondo norme vigenti.
© MR PhotoArt - www.mikerphotoart.wix.com/book
© Fb www.facebook.com/MicheleRallo.Fotografia
© YouPic www.youpic.com/photographer/michelemikerallo
© VivereD’Arte Store - www.viveredarte.it/profile/mrphotoart
© GuruShots – www.gurushots.com/mrphotoart
© Behance.net - www.behance.net/MRPhotoArt
© 500px - www.500px.com/MikeRPhotoArt
© Tumblr – www.mrphotoart.tumblr.com
© Instagram – “mrphotoart”
© Find me on Google+! „MR PhotoArt“
© Twitter @MikeR_Ph79
© Skype michele.rallo79
Ever since I joined SL on my old original avatar back in 2007, I have wanted to have the ability to create an authentic looking Tudor period portrait. Having been rather obsessed with this period of history since my first visit to the Tower of London at aged eight, I have never waned in my love for the 16th century. Of all of Henry VIII’s wives, I relate to Katherine Parr the most. So, this portrait is my homage to Queen Katherine, the only one of Henry VIII’s wives to survive him.
Body: Maitreya Mesh Body Lara V4.1
Head: LeLutka Bento Head-GREER
Shape: Own Shape
Skin: Go&See * Aida * August ~ Gift – Pale
Eyes: Anara Customeyes
Lipstick: ALMA Makeup – Babygirl – Omega
Hair: Opale . Ksyu Hair [Ombre/Shatush]
French Hood: Bliensen + MaiTai – Millicent – French Hood – browns (MP)
Necklace: Luminesse LUM-Mariana Francia Set PMESH
Pearls: Classic Pearl Necklace Set (MP)
Dress: The Annex – Olivia Gown – Black (We <3 Role-Play)
Sleeves: Peqe – The Raven Sleeves_Black (MP)
Pose: Izzie’s – Stand Still Pose Hud
Backdrop: Own design
Location: Own Photostudio
Name: Daimyo
Type: Speed/Rumble
Pilot: Gai-Jun
Special Ability: Ejectable armor
One of the more unique MRL racers, Daimyo is a repurposed Japanese combat mecha. It's owner and pilot, Gai-Jun, is a huge samurai fanatic and bought the unit as soon as he saw it on Cragslist. He doesn't like to talk about how much he spent on it. He outfitted the mech with high-speed wheels, which are directly driven by the powerful motors in the mech's thighs. Two thrusters on the back help with acceleration, but their fuel is rather limited. The Daimyo also wields a wooden staff, not to use against other racers but more as a show weapon to go along with its theme. Gai-Jun has attempted to use it to pole-vault before, but he ended up landing on another racer, damaging both units.
Perhaps Daimyo's most unique aspect however, is its removable armor. Because of this system, it can compete in both speed and rumble races effectively. Additionally, if it's in a rumble race and needs an extra boost of speed, it can eject its armor as a last-ditch effort to overtake other racers. Gai-Jun has used this method to win many MRL races.
Man, I'm glad to finally get this thing finished. I started this mech as a grunt unit for my GRF faction, but that didn't work out so I scrapped everything but the arms and the legs. Then it was going to be a specialty transforming mech, but that didn't work out quite well either. Finally I decided to repurpose it into an MRL mech because I didn't want it to go to waste, and I'm glad that I did! I think it turned out great this way. The pilot can be difficult to squeeze in, since I built the cockpit for a smaller minifig, but if I turn around his helmet I can fit him in. Hopefully the staff doesn't count as a weapon, it wouldn't really be used in races anyway :P
This was built for the Mecha Racing League. If you want to participate, check out the MRL group!
Name: Oracle
Type: MIX
Pilot: Magdalen Azalea
Special Ability: 4Sight
Description: While some racers choose to bask in the fame and spotlight that comes from winning races, Magdalen Azalea, pilot of the Oracle, is certainly not one of those. In fact, little is actually known about her past. There are some rumors floating around the MRL's fanbase that she was once involved with criminal underworld that hides in the shadow of the MRL, but nothing is certain. What is certain is that her mecha is extraordinary. The Oracle is agile, fast, and relatively light despite its size. Its real strength lies in its 4Sight ability. The Oracle can deploy four drones while racing to give its pilot an extended aerial view of the track. This allows Magdalen's cybernetic eye to calculate the best path for the Oracle to take depending on track hazards or other racers. 4Sight allows the Oracle to move at high speeds in dangerous situations, and even helps it to dodge attacks from other mechs in the Rumble Races. When the Oracle needs some extra speed, its drones can latch onto its back and give boost.
- Build Notes -
So, this one was tough to build. It is a lot bigger than I had originally planned, but I really like its silhouette. It has pretty good poseability and its torso is really sturdy. The idea for the 4sight ability came from Aldnoah.Zero's Kataphrakts, specifically the Nilokeras. This MOC is little tricky to balance, but once you find the sweet spot it's not going anywhere. Any feedback would be much appreciated. Thanks all!
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For the psychedelic trance musical band, see Astral Projection (band). For physical travel to other stars, see Interstellar travel."The Separation of the Spirit Body" from , a Chinese handbook on alchemy and meditation
Astral projection (or astral travel) is a term used in esotericism to describe a willful out-of-body experience (OBE), a supposed form of telepathy, that assumes the existence of a soul or consciousness called an "astral body" that is separate from the physical body and capable of travelling outside of it throughout the universe where it interacts with other astral bodies and is capable of implanting ideas into other people's minds. The idea of astral travel is rooted in esotericism and occultism, and was promoted by 19th century Theosophists—philosophers who explored the mystical and preternatural origins of the natural world.It is sometimes reported in association with dreams, and forms of meditation.Some individuals have reported perceptions similar to descriptions of astral projection that were induced through various hallucinogenic and hypnotic means (including self-hypnosis). There is no scientific evidence that there is a consciousness or soul which is separate from normal neural activity or that one can consciously leave the body and make observations..Claims of scientific evidence of astral projection are pseudoscientific.According to classical, medieval and renaissance Hermeticism, Neoplatonism, and later Theosophist and Rosicrucian thought the astral body is an intermediate body of light linking the rational soul to the physical body while the astral plane is an intermediate world of light between Heaven and Earth, composed of the spheres of the planets and stars. These astral spheres were held to be populated by angels, demons and spirits.The subtle bodies, and their associated planes of existence, form an essential part of the esoteric systems that deal with astral phenomena. In the neo-platonism of Plotinus, for example, the individual is a microcosm ("small world") of the universe (the macrocosm or "great world"). "The rational soul...is akin to the great Soul of the World" while "the material universe, like the body, is made as a faded image of the Intelligible". Each succeeding plane of manifestation is causal to the next, a world-view called emanationism; "from the One proceeds Intellect, from Intellect Soul, and from Soul - in its lower phase, or that of Nature - the material universe".Often these bodies and their planes of existence are depicted as a series of concentric circles or nested spheres, with a separate body traversing each realm.[18] The idea of the astral figured prominently in the work of the nineteenth-century French occultist Eliphas Levi, whence it was adopted and developed further by Theosophy, and used afterwards by other esoteric movements.
Biblica
Some have claimed that the Bible contains mentions of astral projection.[weasel words]Carrington, Muldoon, Peterson, and Williams—renowned experts in the field of astral projection—claim that the subtle body is attached to the physical body by means of a psychic silver cord. The final chapter of the Book of Ecclesiastes is often cited in this respect: "Before the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be shattered at the fountain, or the wheel be broken at the cistern." Scherman, however, contends that the context points to this being merely a metaphor, comparing the body to a machine, with the silver cord referring to the spine
Paul's Second Epistle to the Corinthians is more generally agreed to refer to the astral planes; "I know a man in Christ, fourteen years ago, (whether in the body I know not, or out of the body I know not, God knows) such a one caught up to the third heaven..."This statement gave rise to the Visio Pauli, a tract that offers a vision of heaven and hell, a forerunner of visions attributed to Adomnan and Tnugdalus as well as of Dante's Divine Comedy.
Ancient Egypt
Similar concepts of soul travel appear in various other religious traditions. For example, ancient Egyptian teachings present the soul (ba) as having the ability to hover outside the physical body via the ka, or subtle body
China
Taoist alchemical practice involves creation of an energy body by breathing meditations, drawing energy into a 'pearl' that is then "circulated". "Xiangzi ... with a drum as his pillow fell fast asleep, snoring and motionless. His primordial spirit, however, went straight into the banquet room and said, "My lords, here I am again." ... When Tuizhi walked ... with the officials to take a look, there really was a Taoist sleeping on the ground and snoring like thunder. Yet inside, in the side room, there was another Taoist beating a fisher drum and singing Taoist songs. The officials all said, “Although there are two different people, their faces and clothes are exactly alike. Clearly he is a divine immortal who can divide his body and appear in several places at once. ..." ... At that moment, the Taoist in the side room came walking out, and the Taoist sleeping on the ground woke up. The two merged into one."
India
Similar ideas such as the Lin'ga S'ari-ra are found in ancient Hindu scriptures such as the YogaVashishta-Maharamayana of Valmiki. Modern Indians who have vouched for astral projection include Paramahansa Yogananda who witnessed Swami Pranabananda doing a miracle through a possible astral projection, and Osho (Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh) who practiced it himself.The Indian spiritual teacher Meher Baba described one's use of astral projection:In the advancing stages leading to the beginning of the path, the aspirant becomes spiritually prepared for being entrusted with free use of the forces of the inner world of the astral bodies. He may then undertake astral journeys in his astral body, leaving the physical body in sleep or wakefulness. The astral journeys that are taken unconsciously are much less important than those undertaken with full consciousness and as a result of deliberate volition. This implies conscious use of the astral body. Conscious separation of the astral body from the outer vehicle of the gross body has its own value in making the soul feel its distinction from the gross body and in arriving at fuller control of the gross body. One can, at will, put on and take off the external gross body as if it were a cloak, and use the astral body for experiencing the inner world of the astral and for undertaking journeys through it, if and when necessary....The ability to undertake astral journeys therefore involves considerable expansion of one’s scope for experience. It brings opportunities for promoting one’s own spiritual advancement, which begins with the involution of consciousness.Astral projection is one of the Siddhis considered achievable by yoga practitioners through self-disciplined practice. In the epic The Mahabharata Drona leaves his physical body to see if his son is alive.
Japan
The 'ikiryō' as illustrated by Toriyama Sekien.
In Japanese mythology, an ikiryō (生霊?) (also read shōryō, seirei, or ikisudama) is a manifestation of the soul of a living person separately from their body. Traditionally, if someone holds a sufficient grudge against another person, it is believed that a part or the whole of their soul can temporarily leave their body and appear before the target of their hate in order to curse or otherwise harm them, similar to an evil eye. Souls are also believed to leave a living body when the body is extremely sick or comatose; such ikiryō are not malevolent.[
Inuit In some Inuit groups, people with special capabilities are said to travel to (mythological) remote places, and report their experiences and things important to their fellows or the entire community; how to stop bad luck in hunting, cure a sick person etc., things unavailable to people with normal capabilities.
Amazon
The yaskomo of the Waiwai is believed to be able to perform a "soul flight" that can serve several functions such as healing, flying to the sky to consult cosmological beings (the moon or the brother of the moon) to get a name for a new-born baby, flying to the cave of peccaries' mountains to ask the father of peccaries for abundance of game or flying deep down in a river to get the help of other beings.
"Astral" and "etheric"
The expression "astral projection" came to be used in two different ways. For the Golden Dawn and some Theosophists[ it retained the classical and medieval philosophers' meaning of journeying to other worlds, heavens, hells, the astrological spheres and other imaginal landscapes, but outside these circles the term was increasingly applied to non-physical travel around the physical world.Though this usage continues to be widespread, the term, "etheric travel", used by some later Theosophists, offers a useful distinction. Some experients say they visit different times and/or places:"etheric", then, is used to represent the sense of being "out of the body" in the physical world, whereas "astral" may connote some alteration in time-perception. Robert Monroe describes the former type of projection as "Locale I" or the "Here-Now", involving people and places that actually exist: Robert Bruce calls it the "Real Time Zone" (RTZ) and describes it as the non-physical dimension-level closest to the physical. This etheric body is usually, though not always, invisible but is often perceived by the experient as connected to the physical body during separation by a “silver cord”. Some link "falling" dreams with projection.According to Max Heindel, the etheric "double" serves as a medium between the astral and physical realms. In his system the ether, also called prana, is the "vital force" that empowers the physical forms to change. From his descriptions it can be inferred that, to him, when one views the physical during an out-of-body experience, one is not technically "in" the astral realm at all.Other experients may describe a domain that has no parallel to any known physical setting. Environments may be populated or unpopulated, artificial, natural or abstract, and the experience may be beatific, horrific or neutral. A common Theosophical belief is that one may access a compendium of mystical knowledge called the Akashic records. In many accounts the experiencer correlates the astral world with the world of dreams. Some even report seeing other dreamers enacting dream scenarios unaware of their wider environment.The astral environment may also be divided into levels or sub-planes by theorists, but there are many different views in various traditions concerning the overall structure of the astral planes: they may include heavens and hells and other after-death spheres, transcendent environments, or other less-easily characterized states
Notable practitioners
Emanuel Swedenborg was one of the first practitioners to write extensively about the out-of-body experience, in his Spiritual Diary (1747–65). French philosopher and novelist Honoré de Balzac's fictional work "Louis Lambert" suggests he may have had some astral or out-of-body experience.
There are many twentieth century publications on astral projection,although only a few authors remain widely cited. These include Robert Monroe,Oliver Fox,Sylvan Muldoon, and Hereward Carrington,and Yram.Robert Monroe's accounts of journeys to other realms (1971–1994) popularized the term "OBE" and were translated into a large number of languages. Though his books themselves only placed secondary importance on descriptions of method, Monroe also founded an institute dedicated to research, exploration and non-profit dissemination of auditory technology for assisting others in achieving projection and related altered states of consciousness.Robert Bruce,William Buhlman, and Albert Taylor,have discussed their theories and findings on the syndicated show Coast to Coast AM several times. Michael Crichton gives lengthy and detailed explanations and experience of astral projection in his non-fiction book Travels.The soul's ability to leave the body at will or while sleeping and visit the various planes of heaven is also known as "soul travel". The practice is taught in Surat Shabd Yoga, where the experience is achieved mostly by meditation techniques and mantra repetition. All Sant Mat Gurus widely spoke about this kind of out of body experience, such as Kirpal Singh.Eckankar describes Soul Travel broadly as movement of the true, spiritual self (Soul) closer to the heart of God. While the contemplative may perceive the experience as travel, Soul itself is said not to move but to "come into an agreement with fixed states and conditions that already exist in some world of time and space".American Harold Klemp, the current Spiritual Leader of Eckankar practices and teaches Soul Travel, as did his predecessors, through contemplative techniques known as the Spiritual Exercises of ECK (Divine Spirit).
In occult traditions, practices range from inducing trance states to the mental construction of a second body, called the Body of Light in Aleister Crowley's writings, through visualization and controlled breathing, followed by the transfer of consciousness to the secondary body by a mental act of will.There is no known scientific evidence that astral projection as an objective phenomenon exists.There are cases of patients having experiences suggestive of astral projection from brain stimulation treatments and hallucinogenic drugs.Robert Todd Carroll writes that the main evidence to support claims of astral travel is anecdotal and comes "in the form of testimonials of those who claim to have experienced being out of their bodies when they may have been out of their minds."Subjects in parapsychological experiments have attempted to project their astral bodies to distant rooms and see what was happening. However, such experiments have produced negative results.According to Bob Bruce of the Queensland Skeptics Association, astral projection is "just imagining", or "a dream state". Although parallel universes are mathematically possible,Bruce writes that the existence of an astral plane is contrary to the limits of science. “We know how many possibilities there are for dimensions and we know what the dimensions do. None of it correlates with things like astral projection.” Bruce attributes astral experiences such as "meetings" alleged by practitioners to confirmation bias and coincidences.The psychologist Donovan Rawcliffe has written that astral projection can be explained by delusion, hallucination and vivid dreams.Arthur W. Wiggins, writing in Quantum Leaps in the Wrong Direction: Where Real Science Ends...and Pseudoscience Begins, said that purported evidence of the ability to astral travel great distances and give descriptions of places visited is predominantly anecdotal. In 1978, Ingo Swann provided a test of his alleged ability to astral travel to Jupiter and observe details of the planet. Actual findings and information were later compared to Swann's claimed observations; according to an evaluation by James Randi, Swann's accuracy was "unconvincing and unimpressive" with an overall score of 37 percent. Wiggins considers astral travel an illusion, and looks to neuroanatomy, human belief, imagination and prior knowledge to provide prosaic explanations for those claiming to experience it.A recent study, The AWARE Study, conducted by medical researcher Sam Parnia, was designed to get information on possible OBEs during cardiac arrest.
Case Study 113 : Warning, these are the raw, bare unusual occurrences as originally chronicled. Some names, times, places and some facts have been, of course, altered.
Name: Angelica D circa 192__
Subject: an unscrupulous light-fingered body thief
Event: Posh Wedding Reception
Place: Upstate New York
Time: Warm early Autumn Saturday
Angie Being Receptive
Story line:
Angie had heard about the affair, a wedding, from a list of prospective functions provided by a discreetly paid contact. It was being given for the only daughter of a wealthy politician (as if there were any non-wealthy ones!) Angie had happily invited herself to the affair, carefully dressing up in her best for the special occasion!
**
Wedding receptions were by far Angie’s favorite hunting grounds. During the season there could be anywhere from upwards of 20 high end affaires every weekend in the bigger cities, and always 2 or 3 in even the smallest of towns.
Wedding s were usually easy pickings: free food, drink and entertainment, and seldom worn jewelry made for a ready-made mix for Angie to ply her trade. For Angelica D. was a uniquely skilled pickpocket, specializing in the removal for profit of the expensive jewelry worn by the (usually be -gowned) women and young ladies’ who hauntingly dwelt in societies upper crust!
So Weddings, by their nature, were the desirable choice for Angie. One only had to avoid the Bride, her Bridesmaids, and their court, which were usually the major focus of any security present. However, there were plenty of opportunities to be had by employing her special bag of tricks on the outlaying fringe.
Angie had arrived early at the mammoth facility, to scout out the establishment and to scope out who was wearing what. Used to these affairs either being feast or famine, she could quickly tell that in this one there was cooking up a devouring banquet.
**
After Angie had entered the mammoth reception room it did not take her long to spy her first plump prospect, nicely loaded with possibilities. It was a lady, bearing a haughty look, who had been making a b-line through the crowd as way was parted for her. She was wearing a luxuriously long rusty coloured sable fur coat that hid most of her long crimson -red satin gown. What Jewels were visible, ears, fingers and wrist, were all flashing with pricy fire. In tow she held the hand of a young girl, obviously her daughter, wearing actual makeup, which, along with her fetching gown and brite jewelry, made her appear far older than she was. A handsome man , looking like the actor William Powell in a tux, followed behind the pair, husband and father, Angie presumed. She shadowed the little family as they swished their way to a corner table, conveniently located by a rear exit, for a better look over. Her fingers had started with an all too familiar tingle as she took it all in.
**
The husband helped his wife out of the sable, laying it carefully along a bench against the wall. Angie was not disappointed. A silver necklace of large matched diamonds gracefully encircled her throat. A dazzling blood ruby and diamond brooch held up the center of her gown, positioned just below the bust line. Brooches, like this one, were worth a lot once fenced, but its placement required a little more dexterity and skill than she was willing to risk. In actuality, Angie had only attempted twice before to take a brooch pinned to a gown in this fashion. She had only been successful one of those times, only to find out it was a pretty piece of paste.( Years later, as Angie’s talents became more polished, relieving ladies of their dangling brooches, like this blood ruby, became her specialty.. the Eds.) Angie’s eyes moved on. The rest of the snooty lady’s jewels matched her necklace. Long earrings, free clipped, dangling brightly from her earlobe s. A pair of wide ruby bracelets clasped tightly home around elegant red elbow length satin gloves, sparkled devastatingly, matching her brooch. Her long fingers were home to a pair of ruby and diamond rings and a third ring set with a gold band and a vulgarly large solitaire diamond.
**
Angie’s attention turned to the daughter, whom had been helped by her Father , squirming, from the chocolate coloured satin cape that she had been wearing. The youngster, all of about 10, was wearing a cream coloured long puffy sleeved dress with a brown satin sash encircling her waist that matched her Cape. The young lady possessed impossible large bright eyes. The only thing that held more shine than those doe like eyes had been the antique rhinestone diamond necklace that fell dripping ever so invitingly down the front of the precious little imp’s rich glossy gown. The rest of her matching rhinestones (obviously belonging to the child’s mother) consisted of an engaging display of a bracelet, pair of dangling, screwed on clasp earrings, and matching rings encircling a chubby finger one on each hand. It all gleamed brightly, invitingly from her svelte girlish figure. A large round pin held her sash up in place; it sparkled with what looked like a ring consisting of one caret diamonds, as unlikely as it was they could be real.
**
The two females of the family presented a pretty package indeed. Not one to pass up an invite that alluring, Angie walked by , with the pretext of heading to a back exit behind the table the little family had staked, just so she could get a closer peek.
**
Angie’s practiced eye took in a wealth of information during the few seconds it took her to walk up and pass the group, so involved with themselves they never even looked her way. Her attention focused upon the young mother first scoping head to toe.
**
Angie scrutinized the brooch; it was definitely worth the effort. In her mind’s eye, Angie envisioned the mother as a stumbling drunk “bumping into” Angie. Fingers whisking along the slippery lustrously softness of the gown, as the lady was steadied. Angie would accept the women apologies and the pair would part their ways, Angie from the young mother, and the magnificent brooch from the rich satiny red gown. But then the mother raised her head, looking up past Angie, towards a commotion being made behind her. Typical Angie thought, she doesn’t recognize me, so I don’t exist, like some sort of servant. But it was as she caught the young mother in full profile that she realized this lady looked strikingly similar to another woman who had been wearing an expensive dress of teal charmeuse that Angie had had been having a long conversation with, while relieving the woman’s finger of a costly diamond sapphire ring. It had happened only just last weekend at a formal function, and Angie figured she may have not recognized her in passing, but may if Angie were to use one of her approaches again with the intent of taking some of her jewelry, he memory may be jarred, and she may remember her missing ring. This was why Angie only allowed herself to ply her trade for no more than a month in any given place per year. This was from a lesson she had learned early on in her career. And so, for that reason alone, Angie decided to, at least temporarily, abandon any designs she had on the young mother’s brooch, allowing her devious intentions to evaporate from her mind like smoke on the wind. There were plenty more fish in the sea she told herself.
**
Angie still allowed herself a quick appraisal of the squirming 10 year old. She admired the glossy dress of slippery satin that her mother had conveniently dressed her daughter up in, as it fell spilling down to her black open toed shoes. Angie’s fingers started to tingle; this was a perfect tickling gown. Angie liked to think of any long dress or gown that swept down to a females heels as a” tickling gown”. All it took was a strategically placed foot timed with a well place nudge to send the chosen victim tumbling. During the ensuing diversion, Angie would use her long subtle fingers to swiftly probe along the gowned figure, tickling she like to call it due to the tingling sensation of the usually rich material of the victim’s attire. In this fashion, a pre-targeted piece of valuable jewelry could then be easily acquired, no matter what its placement had been on the unfortunate female. If only the chatty youngster had something on better than rhinestones. It was a crying shame to have a child that young dolled up like an adult, but not wearing adult jewels.
**
Angie continued to walk past, unseen, and went out the door. She found herself in a large serenity garden of roses and shrubs, surrounded by a 10 foot high well-trimmed hedge. The sort of garden one usually found in those days around upscale Churches. The only exit was a gate leading onto the parking lot on the side of the church. Here was positioned a solitary, lonely guard in a neat little guard hut. In the opposite, far corner was a statue of Cupid, arrow drawn, standing above a display of blooming moss roses at the end opposite to the gate. There was always potential in places like these.
**
Angie had started to walk over to the Cupid statue when she heard the exit door open. Turning, she saw the young girl, whose mother’s brooch Angie had been scoping out, looking out the door. She snuck through, running out alone, silky tickling gown swishing out behind her. Her heart leapt to her throat as she watched the girls rhinestones sparkle radiantly. She actually turned to head towards the path the unsuspecting child was running up, flexing her fingers as she contemplating a little warm up practice. Angie watched as the dolled up imps necklace flashed with pinpricks of coloure as it bounced to and fro as she ran happily up the path .Angie turned her back to the girl, waiting to hear the telltale click of her heels come up just behind her. She would then move, bumping into the girl as she passed, tripping her to the ground. After which Angie would help her up, removing the girl’s fancy necklace in the process. Come to Mama Angie whispered under her breath, waiting to make her move as the skipping heels grew ever louder.
**
But then Angie froze, hearing the clicking of the exit door again opening behind her. She checked her stride letting the daughter slither past without a glance. She headed again towards the statue, watching her prize move on ahead. Then she heard the father in the background calling out to his little princess. The youngster turned, and ran back, beaming at Angie as she passed. Angie smiled back, her eyes again traveling to the girls neckline, and the sparkling jewelry the outlined her throat. It had been a silly thought she chided herself, as the girl passed from view. If only the necklace had been real, and the father about ten minutes later in discovering his daughter absence. It would have been an unbelievably easy pluck and she could be out the gate before anyone was the wiser. And the best part was that they would probably believe the scampering girl had just lost it in the garden. And, while the parents were looking about, Angie would have been free to renter to ply her trade again. As it was, it was silly of Angie, risking her opportunity on a child’s bauble worth a mere pittance compared to some of the other offerings so readily being flaunted this evening by her adult counterparts.
**
Angie continued her casual stroll through the Garden, happily playing over in her mind some of the jewels that she would like to see adorning the female guests inside, and the scenarios she may be using to acquire them
**
Finding herself approaching the guard hut, she allowed herself a glance back. Jealously she watched the father, who had caught and was carrying his slippery attired daughter, heading back inside. How Angie wished she had been the one carrying the squirming little imp, it would have been like a smorgasbord, with jewels instead of food. Pity her mother had not put the good stuff on the daughter, she sighed to herself. Tonight she would have to work for her butter. She walked past the bored guard, nodding at him, receiving a rather lecherous look in return. A smile was forming across her cunning face, for now it was time to get down to the real business at hand.
**
The affair turned out to be quite a showcase for the very rich. Who were indiscreetly flaunting their riches, trying to outdo one another, probably for the benefit of the politicians’ attention? Certainly not for the attention of the designer satin gowned and flashy diamonded daughter, whom most of the guests hardly knew, or had ever met.
**
Angie always felt like a little kid in a candy shoppe at these lavish affairs.
She spent the first part of the reception mingling and thoroughly enjoying the show her the reception’s guests were u wittingly putting on. Angie, wearing no jewels herself, was something of an anomaly compared to her fellow guests.
**
There were over a thousand luxuriously coloured, squawking female birds and their young chicks pompously displaying valuable finery, oblivious of the cat amongst them waiting to pounce. Angie patently mingled, watching as the adult guests had their fill of food and drink.
Once their guard began to relax, Angie raised hers’, her probingly skillful fingers now more than prepared to begin and ply her trade. For the more they imbibed, the less guarded they were, both about themselves and their female offspring. Angie would start with the adults, 2 or 3 of the right pieces of jewelry, once acquired, and would mean she could call it a night and have enough to support her for a solid month. If she came up empty in that department, her back up would then center on the female off-spring, daughters and nieces.
Most of said offspring would be by then scattered about, aware that their parents were no longer paying them any heed, exploring and playing, sporting their fancy satin gowns, silken dresses, and their dainty jewelry, ripe for the picking. Giving pickpockets like Angie endless opportunity to ply their trade on them, once they had finished working through the adults. Or if the thieves were beginners, plenty of easy practice while “learning the ropes!”
**
Now, when Angie herself was just starting out as a young pickpocket, she stumbled across a treatise written by a man using the pseudonym “Gaston Monescu”. Written around 1826, entitled the Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip, it covered the various tactics and moves used by master pickpockets.
Angie had studied it religiously, especially a ploy called the “Necklace Flimp.” This tactic was primarily used for body thieves working alone. Angie had been surprised to learn that a pickpocket could raise his/her skill level above just acquiring wallets. Having the ability to lift a woman’s necklace amazed her, not to mention the profit that could be realized. With practice, Angie had found that not only was it a good technique for acquiring necklaces, but it worked for other pieces of worn jewelry as well.
It was relatively simple process, but took a long time to master.
First part was to employ psychology and watch the potential victim for the unique movements and quirks in their personality and actions that could provide an opportunity for her skills. Then observe the selected piece the victim wore, for value, type of clasp, make, and accessibility. The second part was to employ a bump, slip, or grasp, and in one motion, flick open the studied clasp and send the piece away from the body by either pulling and palming, or dropping it to the floor or ground for retrieval later. If she was noticed, it was “sorry, miss, very clumsy of me” “here let me get if for you, no harm done?” Then walk away and let the waters settle before trying yet again (sometimes even on the same person!)
Angie had practiced the jewelry flimp until she had the technique totally mastered. Starting out first on specially dressed up mannequins in her apartment, than trying it on small pieces of cheap baubles worn by real women in crowded streets and stores. Then on younger, less guarded, better jewelry wearing young girls attending proms and social dances. Young looking for her age at the time, Angie had fit right in amongst them. Then, finally, she graduated to lifting the better jewels of the older, wealthy women attending society’s finer parties and receptions. And it was this path that led her here today, and would also lead several unlucky females to report missing jewelry to their respective insurance companies.
**
See Album “Angie having a Ball” for additional background on our master thief with the light fingers.
**
Angie now eagerly employed those useful talents learned from monsieur Monescu’s little pamphlet at the wedding reception. She mingled freely, carrying around a drink that never touched her lips. She watched and learned, her trained eyes missing very little. Soon, like that hypothetical kid in a candy shoppe, Angie’s head was spinning from so much to choose from that she really could not make any easy choice. So, she waited and watched patiently, knowing opportunity would knock.
**
Then, like it usually happened with Angie, the first genuine opportunity unexpectedly presented herself. Angie literally was run into a rather awkward, spindly lady in thick glasses clad in a fetchingly expensive costume consisting of a thick silver satin blouse with hanging ruffles down its front, combined with a long rustling tiered skirt that swept down to the top of her open toed silver high heels. Her diamond jewelry shone with exuberant flames as they caught the light from the many chandeliers that hung from the vaulted ceiling. The lady expressed frantically her apologies, placing a hand with well ringed fingers on Angie’s shoulder, where they sparkled merrily. No worries Angie said smiling, her eyes taking it all in without appearing to move. She let the frazzled lady leave, allowing her a head start, it was only sporting to do so.
**
Angie shadowed her quarry for a while, seemingly rewarded for her efforts when the lady managed to spill a bit of her drink down on her skirt. In a show of flashing silvery satin and diamonds ,she retreated and disappeared into a nearby powder room, with Angie following eagerly, opportunity knocking.
**
As Angie grabbed onto the closing powder room door, a mid- twenty something girl in a deep green velvet gown came out. Her only jewelry was a wide diamond bracelet wrapped around a wrist of the matching long green gloves she wore. Angie caught it out of the corner of her eye, realizing that it was as expensive as it was bright. But it was her friend, a willowy short haired pretty young thing in a glamorous Chocolate Satin gown that made Angie’s jaw drop. Her jewels, like her friends, were also sparse, but enormously pricy. The long white satin gloves that graced her hands and arms also held matching bracelets, thin, but each one worth the effort. But her real eye catcher was the row of authentic, one caret white diamonds that were rippling exquisite fire along her throat. Angie held the door for them, nodding to as they passed. Noses in the air, they did not appear to notice Angie. Then, with the ladies backs to her, Angie abandoned Miss silver satin and turned to follow. Angie got in behind the two with the intention of getting a closure examination of the clasp of the fiery diamond necklace Miss Chocolate satin was wearing.
**
However, Angie never got her closer look. For at that moment the tossing of the bride’s boutique was announced and Angie was overwhelmed by a mad dash of single ladies heading for the bride. On a lark she allowed herself to be swept along, losing sight of Miss Chocolate satin, but found herself right smack behind Miss Green velvet and her cheerfully sparkling diamond bracelet, a beautifully expensive piece that would have cost someone a king’s ransom. Angie’s fingers began their all too familiar tingling, eager for a chance to acquire jewelry that valuable, but not for any king, just for herself!
**
Though the night was still relatively early, and Angie still had visions of those exquisite rippling diamonds of the pretty Miss in chocolate satin on her mind, she simply could not pass up this opportunity. Angie wedged herself close behind her chosen victim as the multitude of hopeful young women pressed forward to try their luck. As the Bride teased her guests before getting ready to toss her bouquet of white and red roses, Angie expertly scrutinized the bracelet as it dangled from the green velvet glove. When the bride finally turned her back and raised her arms every one of the richly clad single women’s eyes was focused on the bride’s bouquet, Angie’s eyes were fixated on the bracelet. With the music playing loud, the crowd giggling and laughing, and all eyes focused on the gorgeously outfitted young long haired bride, Angie again felt opportunity knocking. Her pulse beating in rhythm with the music, she made ready to seize the chance when it presented itself. The roses flew through the air and all the women raised their hands high, looking all for the world like being involved in a stick-up. Angie timed it perfectly, snapping the clasp, and snatching the bracelet easily away from the gloved wrist of its owner as she raised her arms high to grab at the boutique. In her excitement, shared by everyone, Miss Green velvet ( who did not catch the bouget of roses) never felt a thing. Angie had smirked as she left the giggling group, stowing securely the purloined diamonds, as she imagined what it would have been like to watch that group robbed in a mass stick-up. The money that some enterprising soul could have made from that haul would have been astronomical.
**
She went to the open bar, lighting her first cigarette; she ordered her first real drink of the night. She could feel the coolness of the weighty bracelet in its hiding spot, and Angie, pleased with herself, calmly sipped her drink as she relished in the moment. The toss of the Brides Boutique was, in Angie’s experienced opinion, one of the three common events occurring during a wedding reception that were fertilely prime times for pickpocketing. (Editor’s note.. Miss D. mysteriously never divulged what she considered the other two prime events to be….)
**
She looked about without a worry in the world, coolly watching the antics of some of the younger women on the dance floor. She spied the young miss in the green velvet gown over in a corner talking in an animated fashion with several other women. Green velvet gown’s now bare velvet glove, apparently not noticed by anyone but Angie. One of her group was displaying some bright emeralds peeking through the long silver fur she was wearing, obviously she was leaving, and she was talking excitedly about something to the group formed around her! Nowhere in sight was Miss chocolate satin, too bad, Angie would have loved another peek before leaving.
Angie watched around the room causally, as the cold bracelet pressed expensively against her figure from its hiding spot. She eventually lost track of green velvet and her friends while finishing her drink. Setting down the empty glass, she decided it was time to call it a night. The bracelet now in her possession was easily worth as much as the 2 or 3 separate pieces she usually acquired at functions like these, added together! And, she needed her rest, Angie had a couple of plans the next day, one revolving around the female guests who would be attending an upscale afternoon prom fashion show a, the other, an evening opera performance (invited guests only, and her contact had managed to supply a ticket, at a hefty price!) No rest for the wicked, Angie told herself.
**
On her way out of the main lobby, she found herself leaving behind the very lady in green velvet whose bracelet was now in Angie’s possession. She was with the same gaggle of her similarly dressed friends, including the one exhibiting the emeralds. However, miss chocolate satin was still not visible. They were laughing and joking as they collected their assorted pretty wraps, obviously heading for a nightclub. If she had not already relieved one of them of a bauble, Angie might have invited herself along, if only to have a go at some emeralds. Angie hesitated about leaving withy them, then shrugged, followed the group out the door past the pair of bored rent a cops.
**
She remembered thinking, as she followed the elegant young princesses ,their fluid gowns peeking from under their various furs and wraps, how shallow the very rich could be. She wondered if Miss Green velvets friends had even noticed that she had had diamonds around the wrist of her glove, let alone that they were now missing. She wondered how long it would be before the bracelets loss was discovered. She figured it would be several hours, long enough for its owner not to be sure what place they had been lost. As young Miss Green velvet fancy gown and her friends turned right outside the exit, Angie turned left, heading towards the guard hut at the entrance to the garden.
She decided not to follow them but rather circle around the outside of the garden to give her victim time to leave.
**
That simple decision to make a left turn proved to be a major turning point in Angie’s fortunes that evening.
**
As Angie passed the hut guarding the entrance to the serenity garden, she noticed it was deserted.
It was as she was looking it over, that she heard the sounds of clicking heels moving fast, followed by the sounds of a young girl giggling. On the alert she stole to the backside of the hut, soon spying a splash of something blue and silky between the gaps of a couple of large bushes. Her senses on their highest peak, she began to move cautiously in, hoping the female making the noise would be in need of aid and comfort perhaps.
**
She soon spotted a young lady of about 14 bending over, hands on her knees as she panted heavily. Her back was to Angie, and what pretty back it was. She was nicely attired in a long gown of shiny material dyed deep blue like an afternoon, cloudless summer sky. The gown cascaded down along her petite figure, spilling out on the ground around her feet. Her hair was pulled back, easily displaying a pair of small diamond and sapphire earrings, not rhinestones for this one, but the real McCoy. Around one finger was a gold ring with sapphires, and from her left wrist dangled a thin silver bracelet with a row of diamond chips, both pretty, both valuably real. But it was her last piece of visible jewelry that stole the show. It hung, swinging to and from her neck on a thick braided chain of solid silver. On its end, like a hypnotists prism, was a silver pendent in the shape of a flower, with 1 inch long, pear shaped real diamonds as petals and a fully 2 inch in circumference center stone of deep sea blue. Angie watched it, her eyes following it for a full minute, its expensive fire sealing its own fate as Angie began flexing her fingers. Angie took her eyes off of it and looked around to see why the princess had been running. But all was still as the girl continued to peek through the branches towards the back door leading into the hall. Angie silently approached, and walking up to the pretty miss she bent down and in a friendly tone, asked who she was running from.
**
I played a joke on my sister, and now I’m hiding from her, piped the girl breathlessly, as Angie placed a hand upon the girls shoulder in a conspiratorial fashion, said shoulder made silky soft by the gowns half sleeve.
**
I know a better place where you can hide from her, Angie whispered in the girl’s ear, the dangling earring ever so close to her lips. The girl looked up, smiling, and Angie pointed towards the guard hut, and as the girl looked, Angie’s fingers glided up along the silky shoulder and lifted the thick silver chain up from the back of the gowns’ scooped collar. Come Angie said, and as the girl rose Angie’s fingers nimbly flicked open the chains’ lobster clasp, holding onto the clasp as the other end of the chain slipped down, allowing the pendent to slide free and fall onto the grass at the girls feet, where it lay shimmering. Angie moved her hand to the girls shoulder, squeezing it, while slipping off the braided silver chain with her other hand, whisking it back and away from the guileless young girl. Angie led her princess away from the spot and walked with her to the guard’s hut, still empty, where she had her hide neath the counter.
**
Angie turned and went back to claim the pendent, there still was no sign of any sister. She secured the pendent, joining it with the chain and bracelet, and headed deeper into garden. Her plan was to watch the hut and see which way the girl went after getting bored waiting. But as she skirted the perimeter her plans were changed when, upon rounding a corner of the path at the far end, she saw yet another back belonging to a solitary lady in her late thirties, clad in a long slinky yellow coloured gown of expensively shiny taffeta, bending over to smell the yellow roses on a bush. Instinctively Angie knew two things about her. One was that whatever jewels this lady would be wearing, they would be expensive, and the other was that with an expensive gown like that; the lady would undoubtedly be wearing her jewels. Angie suddenly became aware that her fingers were tingling, as an all too familiar whelming feeling again delightfully washed over her.
**
Angie found herself automatically turning back onto the garden path. She headed around the women and went down to the cupid’s statue, where now out of sight, she carefully hid the purloined bracelet, and still warm fiery pendent and its ‘fancy silvery braided chain..
**
She then headed towards the unsuspecting flower admirer. The ladies’ long brunette hair had fallen, flowing down the backside of her shiny taffeta gown. Angie could see rings and a bracelet gleaming as she was holding up the rose to her face. A long double rope of pearls hung swaying deliciously from her throat. Coming up behind her Angie stood watching; calculating until the lady rose and with a start realized she was not alone.
**
Pretty Angie said, her eyes on the pearls now draping down the front of her marks yellow gown. They are lovely, are they not? The damsel responded thinking Angie was referring to the roses. Just like the ones in the park, my husband and I walked through on our way to catch a cab today. Actually, I meant your dress Angie said complimentary. Thank you the lady practically squealed, I love the way it flows, and she swirled it about to show Angie, who got an eyeful of sparkly jewelry for her efforts. As she continued engaging the women in conversation, Angie decided upon attempting for the woman’s necklace of pearl. Seeing opportunity knocking when Yellow Taffeta pulled her long hair forward so it hang down the front of her gorgeous gown, laying silkily over one shoulder, nicely exposing the pricy necklaces clasp. Angie looked around, they were alone, out of site of the opposite end of the garden where the inside door was, and the guards hut with it’s pretty occupant.
**
Angie, using the marks interest in roses to her advantage, managed to steer the capricious damsel in shiny yellow over to the cupid’s statue. There, she placed a hand upon a silky taffeta covered shoulder, and pointed down to the shrub of moss roses growing at the foot of the statue . When she stooped down to get a closer look, Angie’s fingers whisked from her marks shoulder to the clasp, in a single effort with two fingers, lifted it by the clasp, and snapped it open. At that moment the mark cried “spider” and jumped up, backing into Angie, who watched helplessly as the pearls fell down from the damsel’s throat and slipped along the front of the yellow taffeta gown. They fell with a soft plop unto the ground at their mistress’s feet. Angie tried to lead her away, hoping to come back and reclaim the necklace. But as Angie pointed to another rose bush some distance away, the lady took a step forward, instead of back, planting her feet right onto the pearl necklace. Hey she exclaiming, what’s that, looking down to her high heeled foot? Oh, my pearls the lady squealed again, a glittering hand shooting to feel around her throat. Angie reached down, and reluctantly retrieved them from the base of the rose bush for the squealing lady in yellow . My husband would not have been pleased if I had lost these, she said as Angie held them, feeling their pricey smoothness.
**
She asked if Angie could help her put them on, my maid usually does this sort of thing, you know. Angie reluctantly complied, re- hanging the pearls as the pretty damsel held up her hair, and reluctantly redid the clasp. The Damsel thanked Angie by embracing her in a full hug, her diamond and pearl earring hitting Angie’s cheek. But Angie’s arms were being held by the hugging woman, so Angie was able to only watch the tantalizingly close earring sway free. Angie left yellow-gowned damsel in the garden, getting nothing for her efforts other than the feel of an expensive gown of the likes she could probably never afford to own.
**
With the pretty damsel hovering around the cupid statue, Angie decided to go back into the reception hall until the coast was clear. She carefully looked towards the Guards hut, and seeing that the guard had returned, figured the girl, so fetchingly clad in blue, had been rousted out, so that loose end was probably tied up. She just had to keep a careful eye out. The quite valuable bracelet and pricy necklace with its pendent were well hidden; there was absolutely no danger of someone stumbling over it.
**
Truth was, Angie had found her appetite wetted and once again visions of a lady in chocolate brown satin exhibiting a row of flashy diamonds, teased her thoughts. An accomplished pickpocket like herself had a couple of well-practiced ploys she could utilize to obtain a tight fitting necklace from its mistress. In addition, Angie was now determined to find her and to risk a try. She had really nothing to lose.
**
It took almost an hour of hunting amongst the now well liquored, gaily mingling crowd before Angie could admit to herself that there was absolutely no sign of the willowy lady in the stunning chocolate satin gown. Damn she thought to herself, those diamonds were something special. She shrugged it off, reciting in her mind a wicked little mantra of hers, “Another one who got away, a chance to lose her jewels to Angie on another day!” She strolled about pondering on what her next course of action could be. There had been no sign of the pretty girl in blue whose necklace Angie now had hidden away, and Miss Green Velvet was definitely out of the picture, so she felt that it was still safe to try to pluck one last bird or chick. In her hunt for the brown, Angie had seen several inviting prospects; one lady(purple satin, diamonds), two girls( ivory silk, pearled pin; red satin, gold necklace set with chips of precious stones), and now was weighing the risks.
It was at that point she once again espied the thickly bespectacled awkwardly introverted young lady invitingly wearing the thick silver satin ruffled blouse, which she had been tailing much earlier. And as Angie watched here, she again accepted the invitation. Her prey had appeared on the dance floor, being led around by a rather charming young man. That would make a dandy consolation prize Angie drooled to herself happily as she took in the sparkling show put on by the dancers jewels.
**
Angie looked her over, reacquainting herself with the jewels she so nicely was displaying. A pair of long earrings cascaded down from her earlobes where they precariously held on by antique silver claps. Angie relished the opportunity to “flimp” pairs of earrings like these. Heavily jeweled, each one was worth a tidy sum. Angie mulled this as she continued to study the jewels of her appealingly dressed new target.
**
The girl’s only ring was a solitaire diamond of at least 3 carets on a thick solid gold band worn vulnerably loose on her un-gloved, bare ring finger. A wide silver cuff bracelet with what appeared to be at least seven rows of matching, shimmering diamonds was dangling around her left wrist (she was right handed Angie observed) . The bracelet had a habit of lying over her sleeve, and Angie could see that it was a costly tiffany piece, whose clasp was exceptionally easy to flick open. A diamond pendent hung swinging from her satiny ruffles, held by an extravagantly thick silver chain with a simple , small eye in hook clasp. The Diamonds in the pendent were as shimmery as stars plucked from the night’s sky.
Angie remembered reading that in a poem from a book she had picked up years earlier in a library, while stalking a young mother in a satin dress, wearing an authentic Gruen Watch on one wrist, and a bracelet of diamonds on the other, that had gone into the library in pursuit of her young son running inside. Like that young mother, It was obvious that this lady in silver satin was not accustomed to wearing jewels, and that set probably spent most of their days lying in a safe. Angie licked her lips as she imagined what the other contents of that safe might look like
**
Angie moved in to allow herself a much closer appraisal of her potential victim’s jewels.
The young lady was totally oblivious to anything but the rather surprisingly strikingly handsome man who to all appearances was her Fiancée, who was holding her ever so close. But Angie was able to see enough of what she wanted to. The young Ladies’ thick satin blouse shone richly in the lights, moving like glistening wet liquid silver, while from her waist spilled the long black skirt with satiny tiers that swished and swayed nicely along her figure as she uneasily danced. Her jewels were bursting with colour as they played hide and seek with Angie’s watchful eyes. From all appearances, they were a mismatched couple. He seemed to know everyone and moved with a confident air, she was just the opposite. It made an enticingly intriguing package indeed for someone with Angie’s skills.
**
Silver Satin was the perfect “Gaston Monescu” type of mark, a perfect combination of classic mannerisms, clothing and Jewels worth anyone’s efforts to take. This was the only fly in the ointment that Angie observed. For by the bar she could see that two other sets of eyes were watching the same young lady in shiny satin and blazing diamonds. Angie intuitively knew they were drooling over acquiring jewels she was wearing.
**
She had noticed the pair of young men in loose fitting suits when they had entered a little earlier about the same time as Angie’s reappearance. They were obviously casing the jewels of any woman, young, or old, who walked past them. Angie knew their type, simple thieves, with no real skills outside of holding a knife in a dark alley to the throat of their victim while they unceremoniously searched and stripped them of their treasures. Angie saw that they were whispering amongst themselves and instinctively knew they were watching and waiting for the fetchingly clumsy silver clad lady clad loaded with diamonds, to leave the “establishment”.
**
She is mine Angie whispered, possessively snarling the words under her breath. She looked around as she thought about how best to handle the situation. Her eyes opened wide as she saw a familiar woman waiting by the coat checkroom. Perfect she purred, placing an unlit a cigarette in her mouth and heading over the bar.
**
She sauntered up next to them and ordered a drink, catching their eyes she asked for a light. As they obliged she took a pull and puffed out smoke, asking in a casual tone, “how about my jewels? Boys!” They could see perfectly well that she was not wearing any, and one snarled, “What’s your game, sister?” Angie snarled back in her best cop like manner, “We know what you boys are up to, and we suggest you both call it a night!” “Yer no cop sister”, they challenged, calling her bluff,” what’s your angle!” Angie calmly looked towards the entrance, perfect she mused as she saw their eyes follow hers, “Maybe not” she stated, “but see that lady being helped into the black mink?” “The shiny yellow dame?” one of em asked? “ “yes”, Angie replied taking a puff on her cigarette before going on, “ well that man’s she’s with used to be mine .” “ Now, I aint one to hold a grudge, but, those pearls she’s waltzing around with are worth plenty. And her rings, they are an easy two grand alone.”
**
Angie could tell she had captured their interest, and that they were now paying rapt attention to the lady in the thick yellow taffeta gown whose necklace Angie had almost acquired in the serenity garden. One of them looked at Angie, a suspicious look crossing his mug, “What’s innit for you sister?!” He demanded. Angie looked at him, dripping with sarcastic innocence. “Nothing brother, other than to make sure the jewels of the dame who stole my husband get home safely .” “I just worry,’ Angie went on, “there is a park in front of their residence and that dame in yellow likes to stroll through it to smell the roses after their cab drops them off.” They watched the couple leave, her expensive yellow gown sweeping provocatively at her gold high- heeled shoed feet. Angie looked them in the eyes and said smoothly, “ Gentlemen such as yourselves may want to do a good deed and follow them home to make sure some miscreant doesn’t spot her in those valuable jewels and mink. Not to mention her man’s gold watch and three hundred sawbucks in his wallet!” Angie winked at the pair, “If you catch my drift.” She added.
**
Still not totally convinced about what Angie was selling them, but equally unsure over who Angie was, both men got up and quickly headed towards the main exit as the last slip of an expensive yellow taffeta gown disappeared through the door. Smugly, Angie puffed on her cigarette as she watched them leave.
**
It was then that a hand was placed on Angie’s shoulder from behind.
**
She froze for a split second, before becoming aware of the soft mummer of satin, and of a slender finger was home to a sparkling sapphire ring. Angie smiled and turned around, facing the girl. Pardon me ma’am, she says politely, but do you remember me? Of course dear, Angie gushes while beaming at the forlorn looking miss in the fetching blue gown; I met you in the garden. Yes she confirms, but I lost my necklace somewhere and I was wondering if you remember if I had it on when we met? Angie’s heart leapt, bless this babe in the woods, thinking her necklace had merely been lost, never suspecting that someone like, say, Angie could have been the cause. She absolutely adored the trusting nature of rich girls this age. For that aspect of their purity had allowed Angie, far too easily sometimes, to lift many a jewel from well attired unsuspecting young princesses like this one. Who was now standing before her, miserable, her desirable diamond and sapphire earrings dangling ever so beckoningly, her sad puppy eyes pleading ever so sweetly, and her missing necklace closer than she could ever imagine.
**
No dear, I did not see you with a necklace, Angie lied coolly, as she reached out and stroked the girl tenderly alongside her face, her fingers touching one of the earrings. Angie was looking her fully in the eye, you didn’t lose anything else, and did you dear she asked with a concerned tone. The girl checked her earrings, bracelet and ring (Angie smiled to herself, silently thinking thanks for the info kid!) But when she spoke, it was with hopeful words laced with honey, If you want, I can help you look, my dear. The girl’s eyes lit up for a second, thank you ma’am, I wanted to, but papa said to wait until tomorrow when the light is better.
Angie smiled winningly, don’t worry dear, I’m sure its somewhere in the garden. Someone will find it, she promised, thinking to herself maliciously, and keep it for their own profit!
**
Thank you Ma’am she chirped, at the encouraging words that had been spoken, luckily she could not hear the ones Angie was thinking to herself, and turning moved off, her scrumptious gown swishing pleasantly around her silver heels. Angie watched, as the girl disappeared in the crowd Angie marked her direction.
**
Angie Imagined if the girl had accepted her offer, and she had left with the vulnerable, unguarded princess to search in the garden, and in the process help relieve her of her remaining jewels. There would be enough light with the gas lamps that lined the paths in the garden. Enough light, so that as Angie helped the princess look, her fingers could slip ever so delicately slip in and search along her shiny sky blue gown.
**
Angie licked her lips slowly as she fantasied about the search. The girl bending down to look under a bush, Angie placing her knee sharply in a certain spot below the girl’s armpit, temporarily numbing her upper body. Allowing Angie enough time to pull off both her earrings without feeling it,( this also worked well on working off broaches placed in upper parts of gowns and dresses, not to mention necklaces!) The bracelet would be no problem; it would be the easiest and probably the first, snatched off while the rich girl’s attention was easily diverted away. Since she was not wearing silky gloves, her ring would be the trickiest, but manageable, by either having her walk too close to a water fountain and hopefully having her get her fingers wet, or by simple holding onto her hand and tripping her by stepping on her gowns hem. And just like that, Angie would become that much richer, the rich girl that much poorer. And it all would be done without giving the girl any additional stress, like say she had run into the two muggers Angie had chased off. They may not have been content with just the jewels of a girl dressed as she was that they had found wandering alone in the gardens at night.
**
As Angie excitedly thought about these things, she had trained her focus back upon her original meal ticket, whom for the second time that evening had almost been allowed to slip through Angie’s light fingers. Watching with half lidded eyes, the still dancing couple not unlike a wolf watches lambs, waiting for one to make an ill-fated move away from the flock. The lamb’s fate was sealed, when a vivacious blonde in a long wispy silken dress cut in on the dancing couple. Asking miss silver satin’s fiancé for a dance. He obliged, leaving his shimmering fiancée unaccompanied, nakedly exposed to the wolf that was Angie.
**
More than one way to skin a cat Angie thought, tingling from the thrill of the hunt her prey, now in a reachable situation. She happily headed towards the spot where Miss silver satin had moved off to. A small table, located conveniently by a powder room. One the way she grabbed a half full glass of red wine off a table. Angie circled around young miss silver satin, taking a position up about two table lengths behind her. She casually scoured the area; most of the nearby tables were deserted.
Knowing the band would stop playing soon for the evening; most of the couples were out on the dance floor. All in all, the situation presented the perfect opportunity for some one of Angie’s persuasion.
**
Angie watched as the young lady picked up a glittery silver clutch and opening it, started to search inside. Angie moved swiftly, catching up behind her , tripping intentionally into her, splashing some wine onto the front of the silver satin blouse as the unfortunate lady dropped her purse in surprise. Oh my gosh, I did not see you, miss silver satin pleaded apologetically to Angie, more concerned over Angie’s feelings than her soiled satin blouse. Angie accepted her apology and, producing a lacey silk handkerchief, began to wipe themselves both down.
Angie’s practiced eyes swiftly took it all in. Miss silver satin’s pretty earrings swaying out vulnerably from her long straggly hair as it fell into her face. The clasp of her necklace was also exposed and within easy grasp. A s she reached out for the floor to steady herself, Angie’s eyes took in the sparkling ring on her now wetted finger and then watched the wide bracelet with its’ easily open able clasp slip up glitteringly over her sleeve.
The girl, now thoroughly flustered, started to rise, tripping over her slippery long skirt( with no help from Angie) Angie caught her, taking advantage of the split second opening she had been waiting for and Angie took it, making her selection as she steadied the poor thing with one hand, as the other caressed along a slick silver satin back. Angie’s long supple fingers darted in and deftly did their trick, this time with no spiders interfering. She quickly removed her chosen glittery prize from the distracted lady, who never noticed so much as a prick as Angie removed the expensive piece from her person in the confusion.
**
Angie secreted he shiny jewel as she helped miss silver satin collect herself. Than they rose, and Angie happily accepted miss silver satin profuse and obviously well used, apology. Then, as she fumbled nervously with her thick glasses, Angie laid a calming hand upon her shoulder, her fingers relishing in the richness of her victims sleek ruffled blouse. Miss silver satin was by now so distracted and embarrassed that Angie was all but assured of a clean get away.
However, as an extra measure of caution Angie intentionally jarred silver satin’s elbow of the hand steadying her eye glasses. Thus sending her glasses falling from her face to the floor with a small clatter, then Angie kicked them under a table before the startled lady could react. Angie offered to help, but the lady implored that she was okay, just needed to find her glasses. Angie left as Miss silver satin started to frantically grope around for her glasses, her silver blouse and remaining jewels shimmering brightly along their miserable mistress..
Angie took her leave, knowing that once she found her glasses, Miss silver satin would flee for sanctuary into the ladies powder room, buying her more than enough time for Angie to make her escape. Taking one last look over the dance floor, she blithely saw that miss silver satins fiancé was still in the clutches of the vivacious blonde-haired girl, still safely out of the picture. Angie made her way with purpose to the rear exit leading to the garden that she had used earlier, intending to head out into the serenity garden to collect the hidden bracelet and pendent, adding them to her purloined plunder.
**
As she walked amongst the mostly deserted tables, her mind went to the woman in yellow taffeta and imagined that right about now she would be standing with raised arms and a forlorn look. Ruefully wincing as the man who was holding her mink busily stripped those luscious pearls from the neckline of her tight gown, as the shiny yellow material gleamed in the moonlight! Serves her right for being afraid of spiders, Angie thought unforgivingly.
***
Angie’s mind also went to the poor young princess in blue with the missing necklace. She looked towards the area she had headed, opposite of the back exit to the garden. She reluctantly decided not to push her luck, there was a sister and parents to contend with, and she really had no time left. So she decided to call it a day, a rather successful day, and made her way to retrieve her loot.
**
Angie had now reached the now deserted table by the back exit where the lady in the crimson gown and blood red rubies had been earlier, along with her rhinestone encumbered 10 year old daughter and handsome husband.
**
She paused between the table and the bench, something was not quite right, She eyed the area around the dance floor for any signs of trouble that may be centered on the quite valuable jewels now in her possession. All was quiet, except for a little murmur behind her. Turning she looked at the bench and was shocked to discover the soundly asleep ten year old, using the long rusty sable fur as a blanket. What have we here, Angie thought, licking her lips wickedly?
**
Angie pursed her lips, checking the coast; spotting the young girl’s parents, still on the dance floor, a safe distance away the other side of the room. No sign of miss silver satin. No one else was nearby. Perfect. She went over, bending down so the table hid her. The child looked so vulnerably innocent, sound asleep as she lay on her side, facing Angie. She was clutching an arm of the sable like a warm fuzzy teddy bear, her ring sparkling. Angie gently tugged the mink from the girl’s clasp, and gradually pulled until the fur swished away from along the inert silken figure on the bench, where it fell into a pile on the floor. The child looked very innocent, very vulnerable, like a sleeping princess. An earring lay exposed over one shoulder, her necklace dangled down slightly askew from her slender throat, the pin holding her sash, all of which shone brightly now that it was exposed to the low lights of the ballroom, still called out. Too bad, Angie thought to herself, too bad the mother had not dressed her little doll in real diamonds.
**
Angie again looked to the dance floor; she could see the mother’s jewelry twinkling brightly as the child’s parents danced close, very unaware of anything else but themselves. She looked back over the girl, contemplating. But the song was winding down, Angie stooped to pick up the sable, bird in hand she thought, and placing the rich fur over her arm, stood just as the song ended. Looking at the exit door, so near and yet so far, she started to hasten to it, but checked herself as the band immediately started another, rather slow song that Angie knew quite well.
**
She hesitated, incredibly, everyone was staying on the floor for the final dance, she looked back at the bench, and the sleeping imps exposed jewels still shined, tempting her to come for them. Angie knew that she would only have about four minutes. Always open to new challenges, Angie chose to answer that sweet little invite that the necklace was extending out to her. Checking once again to make sure the parents was still obliviously dancing; she laid the mink down by the door and eased back to the bench. Kneeling down, Angie began to perform the delicate operation.
**
Lifting up the necklace she gently tugged it loose from around the sleeping child’s neck until the clasp appeared. She subtly flicked open the clasp, then shamelessly slipped the necklace from around its perch on the little whelp’s throat. It flickered like some slithering shiny snake, glittering as it came away. Like taking candy from a baby, Angie drooled happily, as she let the necklace run along her fingertips while watching the sleeping princess for a few seconds.
**
Her fitted cream coloured dress shimmered with expensive richness in the shadowy light. The poor thing was so soundly asleep after her long exhausting day that Angie figured she could have peeled the dress off her without causing a stir. This for a pickpocket would be the ultimate test, the pinnacle of her criminal class. But, Angie thought; if she ever had the opportunity to do so, it would have to be worth her while, like a shiny gown, an appealing sky blue gown with half sleeves and scooped collar. And the jewels would be sapphire drop earrings, bracelet and ring, not plain rhinestones. She licked her lips at the enticing thought of such a perfect “coup fera”, than told herself to get back to work, time was money.
**
She slipped her hand along the satin cape being used as a pillow and felt under the girls head until she felt the cold earring she was laying upon. Deftly undoing the screw she pulled it free, watching with delight as it came out from underneath.
**
Angie than, gently lifted, and nimbly stroked back the girl’s ultra-soft hair, exposing her long silvery earring. She pulled the jewel out and laid it out upon the child’s shoulder, where it lay, shimmering vibrantly. Then she reached in with her fingers and began unscrewed its clasp. Pulling it free she added it to her growing collection. She next lifted the hand that had held the warm sable, gently prying open her clenched fingers. The sleeping child never stirred. Angie gently slipped off the glittering ring. She then peeled back a silky sleeve, checking for the bracelet, finding her wrist was bare. The rest of the jewels were hiding securely on the side she was laying upon. Smiling wickedly to herself, an idea popped into Angie’s head.
**
The music was now almost to the halfway point, and Angie thought for a brief second that she should leave . Another quick scan assured her the coast was still clear, and Angie decided to press her luck, eagerly going back to work, putting her idea into motion.
Angie fingers felt along the sleeping child’s waist until she located the brooch. Quickly unfastening the brooch from the chocolate satin sash, she pulled it out. Watching as the diamonds caught fire and burst into vibrant life, unusually vivid for plain rhinestones she thought contemplatively. Angie plopping it in with the growing pile of the sleeping girls purloined baubles. Again reaching in along the warm waist, Angie gradually tugged at the now undone sash. The sleeping girl, unconsciously obliged by turning over on her other side, as the sash was pulled away.
**
Her arm with the ring and bracelet was now exposed. Lifting the arm , and peeling back the puffy sleeve, Angie found and unclasped the bracelet, slipping it away, then allowing it to dangle in triumph before letting it join its purloined mates. Then lifting the child’s hand she pulled at the ring, it was a little tight. Angie licked her fingers, and moistened the girls finger, than began slipping the ring off ever so gently from the along her finger. Almost there, Angie thought, as the ring joined its abducted companions in her pocket.
**
As Angie finished pocketing the last of the girls jewels, her victim whimpers something discernible in her sleep, her small hand feeling to pull up the missing warm sable she had been using as a blanket. Angie quickly looked around, spying a cheap linen coat hanging on a nearby hook, she grasped it and laid it over the stirring girl, stroking her for a precious few seconds. Then rising, calmly Angie snatched a shiny purse from the table, and moved off, unbelieving of her luck. She reclaimed the sable fur, and strolled out the door without looking back.
**
As Angie closed the door she heard the last notes of the song waning from inside. She licked her lip, that was close, but her luck had held. Now all that remained was to visit the Cupid Statue In the garden to reclaim her other prizes. As she reached the statue, Angie realized that she still had the child’s satin sash in her hand.
She smiled as she tied it, blindfolding the cupid statues eyes. Retrieving and pocketing the now stone cold diamond bracelet, and the young Princess in blue’s necklace with its shimmering pendent, she slowly looked around, the cost was clear. Angie coolly made her way to the gate, the bored guard offering to help her with the mink she was carrying. , Angie stopped, and handed it to him. Then turning, allowed him to help her on with it. He puffed out his chest as Angie gave him a sweet smile; she thanked him, then turned and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
**
Angie disappeared from view into the foggy evening, relishing the warmth of the sensuous sable. Happily contemplating the small fortune in jewels it had been in contact with earlier that evening, and also the small fortune she had walked out of the reception with in her possession.
**
The guard watched the spot for some time where the pretty lady in the expensive fur had vanished in the mists. He fantasized for a good few minutes, wondered what had been behind the enchantingly secret smile she had given to him.
Excuse me, sir?, a female voice coming from the garden startles him, he had never heard anyone coming.
He turns, catching an eyeful of a long glamourous, brown satin gown, worn fetchingly by a willowy short haired pretty young thing. Diamonds blazed from around her throat, caught by the gas lights, and from around her white satin gloved wrists as she raised her hands in a pleading fashion.
She continues, pointing to a young girl in a smashing blue satin gown, bending over looking for something in the bushes. My sister lost her necklace and pendent while playing around here earlier, did you or anyone find it? She asked in a rather seductive tone of voice9 not a common, it was her regular voice)
No lady, no one turned in a necklace. Thank you sir, and she turns away, her gown flowing out behind her.
He watches for a minute as she and her sister both move elegantly down the path, continuing their search.
He sighed, and turns away, babysitting rich dames he mutters under his breath, what a dismal way to make a living. Why won’t this affair ever end he asked himself, as he reached for his silver pocket watch to check the time. Damnations he said, not finding it nor its chain and fob, must have dropped it in the alley earlier where I had gone for a nipper from his flask. He sauntered off quickly to the alley located in the direction Angie had disappeared, abandoning his post.
Soon after, a pair of dark figures who had been walking on the opposite side of the street, and had stopped to loiter when they spied the guard talking to some posh broad in a shiny brown dress, saw the guard leaving his post. They quickly stole with sinister intent across the road and entered into the gardens, disappearing into the darkness.
*********************************************************************************
This ended up being Angie’s first big score, She got more for the rhinestone set then she had imagined, the small brooch taken off the brown satin sash had proved to have real diamonds in its center! Also the princess in silky sky blue’s pendent and chain had fetched a nice tidy sum. The jewels lifted from the ladies in Green and Silver also realized quite a handsome profit, as did the sable and purse.
if one includes the real diamond ring slipped off the finger of a silky dressed debutante from the prom show and her rather nice haul of a slim pearl necklace and diamond pin from the Opera, the whole weekend was unimaginably successful.
**
From the profit realized, she had been able to spend a pleasant month away in Monte Carlo, even indulging in the purchase of a rich red wine coloured taffeta gown to wear.
Which she pleasantly found that, when paired with her deftly acquired collection of dripping rhinestone diamond jewelry, she attracted wealthy young males with expensive gold watches and fat wallets like honey bee drones to a bright moss rose.
**
She also enticed a long raven haired, Miss, richly clad in emerald silk, to enter into her snare.
But Angie did not make an entirely clean get away. For the last jewel to be taken was the girl’s brooch , and before Angie could hide it with the rest, the girl spotted its’ glitter in Angie’s hand, and with a gasp had looked down on her dress at the now vacant spot where it had been dangling ever so provocatively for Angie all evening.. Angie smiled at the girl as she had looked up in confusion. The girl had placed a hand to her throat, startled when feeling it bare of her necklace. She looked at Angie in hurt confusion, her eyes wide with fright. Angie placed a finger to the girl’s lips, hushing any fuss she may have been thinking of making over her missing jewelry, and turning her back to the forlorn miss, Angie left, not looking back….
**
But that was a story for another day, so we were promised by Angie, giving us an all too familiar look of devious satisfaction at making us wait.
.************************************************************************************
Editor’s Notes:
Our Thanks to Mr. J. Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
If you enjoyed our little story, please like and leave a comment.
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I’ve reached the limit of my ability to cope with the trees overgrowing the overlook at Monte Sano State Park. I guess I could drag a ladder out and shoot from that. But I won’t. Not in the dark. Not at my age. So I guess I’ll find somewhere new to shoot. In this picture my fellow photographer, Tom, is standing in the only gap we have to shoot from (at this time of year). You can see the trees I’m talking about on his right. There are others on his left — just out of the frame.
I know the park folks have plans to cut back the growth to preserve the view. When they get around to it, I’ll get around to shooting more sunrises from the overlook. Until then — or until the Sun moves back north — I’ll wander around, searching for a decent sunrise location. And to the hundreds of people I’ve told that “I’m up here every day” -- I won’t be any longer.
I’d be remiss if I didn’t say these two words: Photography Park.
Nikon D7200 — Nikon 18-300mm F6.3 ED VR
300mm
F8@1/800th
ISO 400
DSB_9960.JPG
©Don Brown 2024
In the 25th century, the Justice League's history- their origins, their identities, are all an open book, and they're all linked by one thing. Tragedy. It's inescapable. There is no life without loss. No progress without pain. Barry Allen lost his mother when he was a boy. Bruce Wayne lost his parents. J'onn Jonzz was the last son of Mars. And in my time, they are heroes. They are better because of it. They know what they have to sacrifice to win, to be greater.
...I know tragedy too. I lost *my* mother when I was eight, my father was gunned down by police. I lost my marriage, my mentor, my ability to walk, to tragedy. It's what brought me to the Reverse-Flash, and it's what finally gave me a new purpose.
My name is Hunter Zolomon, and for years I was best friends with Wally West. Ever since I met him, I wanted nothing more than to be his teacher, to show him that tragedy is not something to be avoided, it is *necessary.* Time and time again, he rejected my gift. He didn't understand that you can't save the world with a smile on your face. You can't save the world without dirtying your hands. Some consider him a lost cause, that he can't be helped, and that? That hurts me more than anything.
===Arkham Asylum===
Since the inmates were transferred to Arkham City the year before, the Asylum had been quiet. Peaceful, one might even say. No more desperate screaming through padded cells. No more deranged cackling from the basement.
As far as most people knew, it had been abandoned. The acting mayor even had plans to demolish it come spring.
But it wasn't abandoned.
The low trundle of a wheelchair squeaked against the wet ground. A greyish hand grasped the wheel, and propelled himself forward. The last of Arkham's patients. He'd been told he wouldn't survive the trip to Slabside. That his body was too broken. And so they sent him here, discarded him like a broken toy. He looked down to the grounds below- Maybe... Yes, from this height, the fall would kill him, he thought.
And yet, he'd thought the same thing last time, during the quake, and all that had left him with was a broken body. Jonathan Crane sat there, in silence, the faint outline of his city just visible through the trees- Wayne Enterprise's latest steel monstrosity towered above the rest, as though it were mocking him...
"Ooga Wooga Booga!"
Crane turned his head slowly, unimpressed. "I knew you'd come, sooner or later. Don't presume that your little... jaunts across the island have gone unnoticed."
Knelt beside him, dressed in a bright purple suit and grinning like a hyena, was The Joker. "It's true!" he giggled. "You can't be spooked!"
Crane's tone shifted as he whispered bitterly. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Sure, you do... That's all you ever did. Lecture on top of lecture, speech on top of speech. Sure, *occasionally* you'd unleash some horrible doomsday weapon, create a new virus, but if there's one thing you loved more than fear, it was the sound of your voice when you talked about it."
"Eno-" Crane begins, but Joker's already raising a finger to silence him.
"Heh... It's funny, Straw Man," he smiles, rising to his feet, his hands on the wheelchair. "One push and... game over. "
"Joker, enough! I won't play your game."
"But it's fu-un," he sings, as he trundles the chair closer to the edge.
"In case you've forgotten, *I* can't be scared, so these cheap theatrics of yours are meaningless"
"No, but you *can* be killed," Joker continues, rocking the chair back and forth. Back and forth.
"I would welcome it!" Scarecrow hisses back.
...
"Now isn't that interesting..." Joker chuckles, his hands sliding off the handlebars.
"Let me tell you a secret Jonathan," he whispers. "There's a reason why they dumped you out here. A reason why they'd rather drop you here, than roll you out to Slabside with the big boys. They're not scared anymore. Why would they be... most evil lairs don't have disabled access after all! But I have a solution, a nasty, vile, undoubtedly bloody solution, and for that... I need your latest plague."
Crane paused. "Then, I suggest you check the bottom of the Gotham river. *Kite-Man* destroyed my factory."
"Please, don't lie, not after all we've been through- The good times! Drury's trial, the Cloudburst, others, that ellude me..."
Crane's ear's pricked up. "What do you want with that... idiot?" he asked, a note of disgust in his voice.
"Play nice, and I'll tell you... Hell, maybe I'll keep you around. Heh. You might even enjoy yourself," Joker laughs, as he pats Crane on the back, and lifts his cane up off from the ground.
"Joker, wait," Crane called out. "There's a rumour, that the pup has her father back..."
Joker smiles.
"So it's true?" Crane sighed. "There used to be a saying, do you remember? "Only the good villains come back." Though, I suppose that once Ted Carson was resurrected, that all went out the window."
"Heh. Rumours... Nasty, those. I think I killed him, you know. Maybe. Bullet to the skull really ought to have done it, but, heh, this is Gotham."
Crane nods. "Rumours, yes. I *may* have heard that the snowman took two gallons of my toxin..."
...
"Johnny, I love you, but you have to be more specific. Do you mean Freeze, or the literal hairy, yeti Kelsey Grammar bloke?"
...
"Yes, I meant Freeze."
~
It's 1991. I come home to find my parents dead. My father, gunned down by police. My mother, his final victim.
2003. The Flash, Barry Allen, encounters his first villain: Leonard Snart- Captain Cold, a self titled rogue armed with a cold gun. My fascination with these... Rogues is piqued.
2004. During my first year of college, I fall in love with my classmate, Ashley. I strike up a friendship with her father, the criminology professor at our school.
It's 2008. My wedding day. Ashley's father is my best man.
2010. Her father- in many ways *our* father, lies dead in my arms, a victim of my error. Ashley files for divorce.
2012. I come to Keystone City for a fresh start. Becoming the "Rogues Profiler" for KCPD, I meet a young man called Wally West. The Flash.
2013. A riot at Iron Heights renders me paralysed. In desperation, I turn to Wally, urging him to travel back in time, and fix my life. He refuses. In an attempt to use the treadmill myself, it explodes, effectively knocking me out of the timestream. I become Zoom. My new mission, to help the Flash, no matter the cost.
"The Flashes, are not worth your time Hunter."
~
Now, it is 2018, Louisiana. "They're nothing but selfish, cruel, vain individuals, not worthy of your... kindness." Beside me, Thawne tinkers with a machine. In a few hours, Lex Luthor will give the order, and the Secret Society will activate our Fear Gas Bomb in the heart of Gotham. Of the thousands affected, one in two will emerge stronger, their demons conquered.
"Idisagreeeeeeeee. You've spentyour eeeeeeentire life making BarryAllenbetter, JokerandBatman, Sineeeeestro- Haaaaal Jordan, BlckMnta- Aquaman. You aaaaall makeheroes strong."
"That's where you're wrong, Hunter. I don't want to *help* Barry Allen, I want to destroy him. Take apart all that he has. All that he *is*. You've seen my files. Do you really think Manta fights Aquaman to make him better?! Heh. Black Manta is a sociopathic maniac with an inane case of daddy issues. However, he does make an excellent tuna sandwich. He doesn't know I steal them."
~
Two years earlier, I am visited by an older Thawne. He's dying. Having just escaped an alternate timeline, the energy it took has dampened his speed. His one hope is a "Get out of Hell Free card." In the year that follows, Thawne recruits Drury Walker to infiltrate the Suicide Squad and find him that card. I'm not sure why he chose *him.* Thawne said it was a cruel irony of sorts, brought about by his time in this other timeline. Mothpoint. He uses the opportunity to punish Walker for his failings, and to tie up loose ends, by murdering the Van Cleer boy. His son. Moments later, the Signal Man issues a city wide blackout, wanting the card for himself. In the ensuing chaos, Thawne succumbs to his wounds, killed by the boy's stepmother.
Walker's grief, and role in Cobb's defeat inspires him to become more than a simple criminal. He runs for Mayor. A year later, the boy is resurrected. The tragedy, was undone. The lessons Walker learned? Unlearned.
2018. While Bane works to reshape the Society, Thawne is set on the path that will lead to his death. A confrontation with the Ratcatcher and the KGBeast ends with him retreating into the speedforce, as time changes around him. He's dumped in December, 2018. A new world, and is forced to work with Walker's boy. His disobedience and compassion makes him an unreliable ally. He plans to murder him once the timeline is restored.
2019. Thawne visits Bane one final time. I, am sent to deal with a rival Society spearheaded by Lex Luthor. The key, is the Riddler's journal.
The Joker destroys it before I can learn what he might have planned. The Society is satisfied.
2020. During an assault on the League of Assassins, Bane, Calculator, Sinestro and Zod are all apprehended. Kuttler's testimony grants him freedom. Though Faust, Ocean Master and Black Adam remain, each go their separate ways. The Society is finished. Intent on confronting the Joker, I travel to Gotham City. Instead, he imparts on me a new mission.
=Drury's Apartment, Keystone=
"Drury- Drury!" Wally called out. "Axel's been spotted with the Rogues, and I just- Drury?"
"Wah-Wah-Wah-Wah-Wah" a voice answered back, mockingly. Sat in the living room, draped in a tartan blanket, and a glass of scotch in his hand, was Drury Walker. Opposite him, playing Cooking Mama on the TV, was The Suit.
Wally sighed. "C-C'mon, man, that's just childish."
"Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Mi-Muh."
Wally edged into the room, and knelt beside Drury. "You don't want your kid in Iron Heights. I get it... I don't either! But he keeps going out with the Rogues, that's what's going to happen."
Drury took another sip of scotch. "Let him have his fun. He hasn't had *his* hopes and dreams stabbed yet.
Wally bowed his head. "Look, I'm not thrilled with this arrangement either. But we could at least try to get along, right? How about a pizza? Would you like a pizza."
"Gotham's are better."
"I can go to Gotham. Fastest man alive and all that."
"Lucky!" Drury called back sarcastically.
"Right. It's been a pleasure. Suit," he nodded, the empty costume putting the controller on the table and waving goodbye. The door slamming behind him, Drury rushed to the window. "Thank god he's gone," he smiled, and ripped his dressing gown off to reveal the costume underneath. "Now, where were we?"
He flipped the tablecloth over, unveiling a map of the prison on the other side.
"We really need to re-evaluate your artistic merits..." Drury murmured, as Suit rolled in a large mirror, and handed Walker a silver blaster.
"McCulloch this mirror gun better fucking work," Drury mused, as he pointed it at the mirror, and fired a white beam of light. The mirror now a dazzling portal, Drury winks back, and enters through the looking glass.
I don’t think this Squirrel has ever seen a Walnut before ………
The ability to run both up and down tree trunks, jump from branch to branch makes the grey a firm favourite. Easy to recognise with it’s long busy tail, short muzzle and rounded ears the grey is both bigger and heavier that it’s native Red cousin. Squirrels are diurnal, with peak activity during early morning and late afternoon. They don’t hibernate but do become less active during the winter months.
The Grey Squirrel was introduced to the UK buy wealthy landowners from North American between 1876 and 1929 , originally as a decorative addition to their country estates. Since then it has spread over much of England and Wales and much of southern Scotland , pushing back the Red Squirrel into smaller pockets of land in England and the Highlands in Scotland.
Adult male squirrels compete to mate with suitable females , and the female will mate with multiple males during the estrus period. The gestation period is about 44 days , when the female gives birth to a litter of between 1-4 pups. The young are born in a nest or “Drey” similar to a birds nest but made from twigs cut live from the host tree, often with leaves still attached. Newborn squirrels are entirely hairless and pink , weigh between 13-18 grams and are born blind. The young are weaned at around 10 weeks old and leave the nest after around 12 weeks. Only 25% will survive the first year to reach maturity. A squirrel can live up to 20 years in captivity , but in the wild average life expectancy is around six years.
Squirrels cannot digest cellulose , a compound found in most green plants. They rely on a diet of protein, carbohydrates and fats, primarily nuts, seeds, fruit, fungi and conifer cones. During hard times squirrels have occasionally been known to eat insects, eggs and small birds. Squirrels start to stash away surplus nuts in autumn when there is plentiful food supply , burying nuts in small holes in soft earth, returning later during winter to retrieve their stored food supply. A squirrel can even sniff out stored nuts under a layer of snow.
See more at www.wildonline.blog
Thank you for all your support , views , likes and comments. It is really appreciated
www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPE9uSFFxrI
MUSE - Resistance
Life's a_muse_ment
Nature provides all answers
:-)
Bon samedi
Enjoy muse_ical link !
:-)))
g
"Creativity is a God-given ability we all possess."
~ Unknown
..............
.
1. title,
2. "Creativity is an ability to take something ordinary and change it into something special.",
3. "Creativity is the openness to making something special in a new way.",
4. "Creativity is adapting a new idea.",
5. "Creativity is discovering a new pleasure which results in happiness.",
6. "Creativity is discovering the essence of the spirit of good will and good cheer."
..............
Original Kaleidoscopes...
memories of water drops on pine needles...
Thanks for stopping by
and God Bless,
hugs, Chris
My Photo edited with www.tuxpi.com
Mosaic created with fd's Flickr Toys.
At the height of the Cold War NATO forces in Europe were on constant watch for the approach of Soviet aircraft. Virtually every day the Russians tested the efficiency of west’s radars and its ability to respond quickly to intrusions from the East. During the course of this tense 40-year stand-off UFOs were a headache for both sides. At the centre of this cat-and-mouse game were the crews who flew the fighter aircraft whose job it was to intercept unidentified aircraft and, if necessary, shoot them down. Every minute of every day, pairs of RAF crews were cockpit ready at airfields along Britain’s east coast ready to go when the order to “scramble” came.
One dark September night in 1970 Captain William Schaffner, a USAF pilot on exchange duties with the Royal Air Force, was scrambled from RAF Binbrook in Lincolnshire to intercept one such intruder. It was to be his last mission and the beginning of a mystery that would not be laid to rest until 2005, when the secret MoD report on the tragedy was finally released at the National Archives.
Schaffner, a 28-year-old father-of-two was an experienced pilot who had seen action in Vietnam. In the early hours of 9 September his wife and young family were told the RAF Lightning he had been flying had crashed into theNorth Sea. Lifeboats and coastguard rescue spent two days searching the choppy seas but could find no trace of him. And although the wreckage of the plane was eventually recovered from the sea largely intact, Captain Schaffner’s body was never found. The mysterious circumstances of his death would soon become the stuff legends are made of.
A RAF Board of Inquiry was held and a report produced but official secrecy was so endemic that the findings were kept on the secret list. As a result rumours spread about what had happened to Captain Schaffner. The wildest of all suggested he had been spirited from the cockpit of his aircraft as he closed on a UFO above theNorth Sea. The RAF crews had been purposely kept in the dark about the identity of the aircraft they had been scrambled to intercept. Was it one of theirs or one of ours? Or was it something much stranger? The fact that Schaffner died in tragic circumstances was the only definite fact at the time. But as the years passed it became the lynchpin around rumours and gossip that suggested Schaffner lost his life whilst pursuing a UFO.
The UFO connection came in 1992 when the Grimsby Evening News, published two sensational articles by assistant editor Pat Otter. As a cub reporter in 1970 Otter had covered the fruitless search for the pilot’s body. When the mystery was revived two decades later in a local book the paper received a call from a man claiming to be a member of the original RAF crash investigation team which examined the remains of the Lightning. Otter was later to claim he never believed the man’s story, but felt it was too good not to publish when he came up against a wall of official denials.
Otter’s source – who wished to remain anonymous – claimed there had been a dramatic increase in radar tracking of UFOs over the North Sea during the autumn of 1970 which led the RAF to mount a special operation. At8.17pmon 8 September radars in the Shetlands tracked an unidentified target above the North Sea and Lightning interceptors were scrambled from RAF Leuchars to engage. But before they could get near the UFO turned sharply, increased its speed to a fantastic 17,400 mph, and vanished from the radar screens. According to the “deep throat” source higher command levels within NATO were now alerted and aircraft from three squadrons were ordered to remain on patrol in case the “thing” returned. It did, and during the course of the night several UFOs were detected. Each time they shot away at high speed before the RAF could approach them.
In his book Alien Investigator, published in 1999, former police sergeant turned UFO detective Tony Dodd took Otter’s story even further. His own sources (again anonymous) claimed that several early warning systems and tracking stations, including RAF Fylingdales in the UK and NORAD HQ at Cheyenne Mountain in the USA were put on full alert and that it was “almost certain” that President Nixon was closely involved. Dodd even claimed that NORAD contacted the RAF specifically to request that Captain Schaffner – on an exchange posting to the RAF – should be scrambled.
According to both Otter and Dodd, Schaffner took off in Lightning XS-894 not long after he had returned from a training mission. The UFO was now being tracked on radar about ninety miles east ofWhitbyand Schaffner was quickly vectored onto it. The information about what happened next was taken from a transcript provided by the RAF “source” that purported to be describing the actual interchange between Schaffner and the radar controller at RAF Patrington on theYorkshirecoast. According to the transcript, Schaffner could see a bluish conical shape which was so bright he could hardly look at it. This UFO was accompanied by an object resembling a large glass football.
As Schaffner closed in, describing the object before him, he suddenly exclaimed:
“Wait a second, its turning…coming straight for me….am taking evasive action….”
At that point the controller lost contact and Schaffner’s radar plot merged with that of the UFO for a while before losing altitude and disappearing from the scope. Schaffner’s plane was found one month later on the bed of the North Sea with the cockpit still closed. There was no sign of the pilot’s body.
This is a literally fantastic case and one with massive political implications if any of it is true. It was also an event that resonated with other stories concerning mysterious “vanishings” that have become part of the UFO enigma. The death or disappearance of military pilots as a result of hostile action by UFOs has a long pedigree in the literature of the subject. The vanishing of Flight 19 off the Florida Keys and within the Bermuda Triangle in 1945 was used to striking effect by Steven Spielberg at the opening of his film Close Encounters of the Third Kind that was supposedly based on true-life UFO incidents. The UFO connection with this “mystery” has since been thoroughly debunked but there are other stories that have contributed to the body of belief and rumour. They include the death of USAF pilot Thomas Mantell whose aircraft crashed during an abortive chase of a ‘flying saucer’ over Kentucky in 1948, and the mysterious disappearance of pilot Frederick Valentich and his Cessna aircraft following a UFO encounter over the Bass Straight, Australia, in 1978.
But when examined closely the facts behind many of these classic mysteries rarely support the status they have achieved among UFOlogists. For the RAF Board of Inquiry report into the death of Captain Schaffner, finally declassified by the MoD in 2003, provides a far less sensational version of the events. It reveals how the UFO link with the case is the product of poor investigation and wishful thinking rather than hard fact. Pat Otter’s story, enthusiastically endorsed by Flying Saucer Review and Tony Dodd, exciting though it sounds, has no evidence to support it other than the fact that Captain Schaffner did exist and was killed in an aircraft accident in the North Sea.