CONUNE - Bancada UJS Pará
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Idea, Concept, Model, Pose, Photo, Edit ... all me.
I had a dream
I got everything I wanted
Not what you'd think
And if I'm being honest
It might've been a nightmare
To anyone who might care
Thought I could fly
So I stepped off the Golden
Nobody cried
Nobody even noticed
I saw them standing right there
Kinda thought they might care
I had a dream
I got everything I wanted
But when I wake up, I see
You with me
And you say, "As long as I'm here
No one can hurt you
Don't wanna lie here
But you can learn to
If I could change
The way that you see yourself
You wouldn't wonder why you hear
They don't deserve you"
I tried to scream
But my head was underwater
They called me weak
Like I'm not just somebody's daughter
Coulda been a nightmare
But it felt like they were right there
And it feels like yesterday was a year ago
But I don't wanna let anybody know
'Cause everybody wants something from me now
And I don't wanna let 'em down
I had a dream
I got everything I wanted
But when I wake up, I see
You with me
And you say, "As long as I'm here
No one can hurt you
Don't wanna lie here
But you can learn to
If I could change
The way that you see yourself
You wouldn't wonder why you hear
They don't deserve you"
If I knew it all then would I do it again?
Would I do it again?
If they knew what they said would go straight to my head
What would they say instead?
If I knew it all then would I do it again?
Would I do it again?
If they knew what they said would go straight to my head
What would they say instead?
The ache for
HOME
is in all of us.
The safe place where we can go
as we are and not be questioned.
- Maya Angelou -
Taxi to Dutch estate
Sin rey, ni mazmorras, aunque sí tiene unos fosos bastante grandes... el Castillo de Acher es tal vez la montaña más majestuosa del valle de Echo, en el Pirineo occidental. Esta panorámica está tomada desde la cima del vecino pico Bisaurín.
How can you always be late for your arrival?
You know I'd forgive you every single time
Retreat, retreat, I've fallen at the low tide
Oh, retreat, retreat and meet me by the quayside
In the end all you can hope for
Is the love you felt to equal the pain you've gone through
Are your eyes showing off for mine?
Your face in my hands is everything good I need
The system's put in place, put there to protect us
For you I'd throw a lifeline every time
Oh, retreat, retreat, I've fallen at the low tide
Now retreat, retreat and meet me by the quayside
In the end all you can hope for
Is the love you felt to equal the pain you've gone through
Are your eyes showing off for mine?
Your face in my hands is everything good I need
Bones starved of flesh surround an aching heart
Full of love
Oh, bones, starved of flesh surround your aching heart
Full of love
Bones starved of flesh surround your aching heart
Bones
Oh bones
I watch as your eyes show off for mine
I watch as your eyes show off
I watch as your eyes show off for mine
I watch as your eyes show off
Zwieselstein Tyrol Autriche
Fleuve Venter Ache
La Venter Ache prend son nom à la confluence de la Rofener Ache et du Nidertalbach, dans le village de Vent. Dans le village de Zwieselstein, ses eaux se mélanges à celles de la Gurgler Ache pour donner naissance à l'Ôetz.
You watch me bleed until I can't breathe
Shaking, falling onto my knees
And now that I'm without your kisses
I'll be needing stitches
Tripping over myself,
Aching, begging you to come help
And now that I'm without your kisses
I'll be needing stitches.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jnm4UMEQFyc
Location@ Heaven on Earth Rentals# Multiscene skyboxes & apartments
They say pain inflicts desire and desire inflicts pain… pain has to be the color red…. Bleeding from the soul that possesses it. It flows into a crimson pool of tiny micro beads that drip each memory into an abyss of darkness. You know the shiny blade, once it touches the soft moist flesh will burn and the pain will erupt. After, the pain will be the high that is sought after over and over again. A remedy in the form of a drug imposed Hindu haunting your every moment until your eyes can’t close. Who seeks the end to it all? You are a drug that can’t be taken away…….a drug where there is no end… no relief only the next fix takes all the pain away… the fix is gone ....only the pain of the blade is left.
The Rose
Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger
An endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower
And you, its only seed
It's the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance
It's the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance
It's the one who won't be taking
Who cannot seem to give
And the soul, afraid of dying
That never learns to live
When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun's love
In the spring becomes the rose
Songwriter: Amanda Mcbroom
LeAnn Rimes Performs "The Rose" with The Gay Men's Chorus of Los Angeles
Sponsored:
Body Wraps: Hunky Mummy by Thirst, from the October 2022 Jockd release, available at the Thirst Mainstore
Other Deets:
Head: Contraption - The Bandaged Face
Body: Legacy - Male
__________________________________
The cold was gentle, almost tender, and the snow dancing in the air felt like a fragile veil, blurring the edges of reality with something just out of reach. Each step I took on the glittering carpet left a trace, only to vanish moments later like fleeting memories of dreams that slip away before you can hold onto them.
How beautiful this sight was. Full of cherished memories, I danced with the snow and became one with the moment. When fantasy touches the heart, it sets the mind free, and the fingers create images that often turn into reality, a place where everything exists in abundance and depth. You just have to believe.
When I finally stopped, I turned around and looked back. My footprints had already begun to fade, swallowed by the falling snow. It was a quiet knowing, a gentle ache, like the final note of a song lingering in the air. I knew that this dream this fleeting world was coming to an end. And yet, for one fragile, beautiful moment, I had been part of it.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi – All rights reserved.
**My heart, my words. Please respect them.**
Dear reader,
These words you are reading right now, whether it's a poem, a short story, or a thought is a piece of my soul. I write with passion, each word flowing from my heart, deeply connected to me. My poems are not just words, they are alive, carrying my emotions and essence within them.
If you plan to take them without my permission, know this: you are also taking a piece of my soul. And with every stolen word, I will always be present within the lines you use.
So be mindful… You never know what lies hidden between the lines, for words hold a power that goes far beyond the visible.💫
For an upcoming Substack post, I got the chance to dig into why I fell in love with the Plains. It's been a couple of years since I've been back, and I'm planning a return this summer (if all planets align, so to speak).
But it was nice to revisit the place, even if in old photos and through some words scratched out and spoken. You'll see in a couple of days.
.
.
.
'Ache'
Camera: Mamiya RB67
Film: Ultrafine 400
Process: PMK; 1+2+100; 13mins
Nebraska
July 2023
“Dentro di noi si sono aperte delle crepe. Ognuno all'inizio è una nave inaffondabile. Poi ci succedono alcune cose: persone che ci lasciano, che non ci amano, che non ci capiscono o che noi non capiamo, e ci perdiamo, sbagliamo, ci facciamo del male, gli uni agli altri. E lo scafo comincia a creparsi. E quando si rompe non c'è niente da fare, la fine è inevitabile. Però c'è un sacco di tempo tra quando le crepe cominciano a formarsi e quando andiamo a pezzi. Ed è solo in quei momenti che possiamo vederci, perché vediamo fuori di noi, dalle nostre fessure e dentro gli altri attraverso le loro. Una volta che lo scafo va in pezzi, però, la luce entra. Ed esce.”
— Città di carta - John Green
“Ci sono storie che abbiamo amato di amore infinito ma che in realtà non sono mai iniziate, ed è per questo che mai finiranno. Di quello che non è mai accaduto non ce ne scorderemo mai”
— Il quadro mai dipinto - M. Bisotti
Vou deixar essa aqui , tirei a outra :)
Qual ficou melhor ?
Eu achei essa melhor , mas comentem aê ...
My heart aches. Doesn't it?
When the ribs stop moving, it causes considerable pain.
I know this well from my experience with thoracic vertebral blockages. The vertebra blocks and the ribs freeze.
The game also works the other way round. If the ribs don't move, then the vertebrae block.... And now?
The accident with the nasty thorax bruises has led to an 'armouring' of my ribcage. A self-playing system, a vicious circle.
The muscles harden more and more, the fasciae stick together..., the thoracic vertebrae block, etc.
So now the main pain is at the level of the heart, TH 3 and TH 4, mainly.
In fact, the whole thoracic spine was blocked, was treated extensively again yesterday by chiropractic.
I broke TH 3 and TH 4 in 2005 (and a bit more: C7 and TH 7 +8, the last two 'only' microfractured). So I have a predisposition.
A disturbance of TH 3 and 4 can lead to considerable pain in the heart area, some misinterpret this pain as a heart attack.
Prolonged problems in this area can lead to heart rhythm disorders.
I know all about it, I have experienced it.
And now?
Now I have what feels like a knife sitting in my heart area, stabbing again and again, deep.
But what if not only muscular, fascial and bony reasons have an influence on the interaction between ribs and vertebrae and this pain?
What if old wounds are torn open, things that went and go hard to the heart? And maybe not just one?
Then this vicious circle of the 3 sources playing off each other is fed.
My heart aches.
____
I'm very glad at the moment that my lower back decided to stay 'silent'.
All the therapy and pain - killers the last days are helping step by step. But most important is to escape from the circle. Otherwise it is a self feeding progress.
“In the deepening spring of May, I had no choice but to recognize the trembling of my heart. It usually happened as the sun was going down. In the pale evening gloom, when the soft fragrance of magnolias hung in the air, my heart would swell without warning, and tremble, and lurch with a stab of pain. I would try clamping my eyes shut and gritting my teeth, and wait for it to pass. And it would pass –but slowly, taking its own time, and leaving a dull ache behind.”
― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood
Left- Kodak Panalure
Middle - Ilford MGFB warmtone.
Right - Kodak Kodabromide
Handmade on May 28, 2015
Visit me also in Instagram. Thanks! www.instagram.com/juliasumangil/
Dearly Departed Grandpa...
For all the times you kissed my forehead when I cried,
For all the choices you helped me to decide...
For the laughter and smiles you gave me,
For all the teasing and fear you instilled in me...
Like stories of werewolves, hide-behinds and snakes,
haunted houses and vampire stakes.
For all those nights spent wonderfully awake,
from all the candy that gave me a stomach ache...
For being my partner in crime...
Me and you against the world all the time.
You truly were a hero to me,
so thank you Grandpa for leaving a wonderful memory...
I'll cherish each one like they were gold...
From now, forever and when I am old...
© All Rights Reserved 2016 No publication without permission from author
I don't have many new photos lately. Luckily my archives still contain a lot of unpublished material. But I really should untie myself from the world of duty and dive into the world of playtime. Do I even remember when or where I was taking pictures last time? Hmm...
"Guindaste"
Pode não ter muito interesse a foto, mas achei engraçado mostrar alguns equipamentos e registos que se mantiveram no Passeio Ribeirinho.
É de louvar, pois na maioria das câmaras perde-se o rasto do modo de sobrevivência das populações da zona
“Sense how
Even the smooth stones ache
With stories of their own
In the shuddering light of day.”
― Scott Hastie
Blog Post
In the quiet of the night, where shadows mourn
And hollow winds caress the weeping trees,
I linger in the echoes of a love forlorn,
A captive to the pain that never leaves.
You were the phantom touch upon my soul,
A fleeting breath of life that swiftly fades.
Yet in your absence, I am less than whole,
A specter lost in time’s relentless shades.
My heart, a sepulcher of dreams denied,
Entombs the whispered hope that once was bright.
Now, only darkness in these veins resides,
A bleeding wound that festers in the night.
Your name, a curse upon my withered lips,
An echo in the chasm of despair.
I drown in shadows of your fingertips,
Grasping at the emptiness you left there.
Oh, cruel love, that wounds with silent grace,
You carved your name into my bleeding heart.
Yet all I have is this forsaken place,
Where love and loss are never far apart.
-----------------------Death in Love ---------------------
In the shadows where the living dare not tread,
I dwell in endless night, a specter’s grace.
The world beneath my touch turns cold and dead,
Yet in my hollow heart, there is a place
For one who never saw my veiled face.
He, a demon bathed in fleeting light,
Unaware of the gaze that followed near,
Unknowing that I longed to end his night
And claim him for my own, to hold him dear.
But love is foreign to a soul austere.
I wander through the world with scythe in hand,
A harbinger of fate, of final breath.
Yet, what is Death but love misunderstood,
A longing for the end to be our thread?
I’d reap the very stars to see him spread
His mortal arms and whisper my true name.
But he, enraptured by the day’s bright flame,
Would never see the beauty of my dark domain.
Oh, how I envy life, that fragile grace,
The warmth of skin, the beating of the heart.
For just one touch, I’d halt the earth’s embrace,
To stop all time and tear the world apart,
If only for a moment in his arms to start
A dance of shadows in the dying light,
Where he and I could merge as day with night,
Two souls entwined before the endless flight.
But love is not for me, nor fleeting bliss.
I am the end of all that lives and breathes.
Yet in my endless duty, I dismiss
The aching void that my cold heart beneath.
I reap, I take, but never do I keep.
For what is Death but love’s eternal sleep?
And so, I watch him from the dusk’s soft veil,
A silent guardian of his demonic trail.
I long to whisper, yet my words would pale
Against the beauty of his fleeting strife.
For in his mortal pain, I find my knife,
A blade that cuts me deeper than the grave.
Yet still, I yearn, his dark and silent slave,
To feel his love, the one thing I can’t save.
So I shall wait, eternal, ever near,
A shadow in the corner of his eye.
And when his time has come, I’ll draw him near,
With tender hands, beneath the starless sky.
For only then, in Death, will he be mine,
A love that blooms beyond the reach of time.