View allAll Photos Tagged affection
hey frnds... u al mean a lot to me:):) friendship day wishes to al the gud hearts i met in this pretty planet;) thanks fr being supportive:):)
Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted,
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters returning
Back to their springs, like the rain shall fill them full of refreshment;
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Affection's gift: :a Christmas, New-Year, and birth-day present.
New York: : Published by Leavitt & Allen, No. 27 Dey Street., [between 1852 and 1855?] 19 cm.
Am 1852 Affect 72573.O
Jui with her little bro
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Settings
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Camera : Nikon D3000
Lens : Nikkor AF-S 55-200 mm f/4.0-5.6G IF-ED DX VR
Focal Length : 160 mm
Aperture : f/5.3
Shutter Speed : 1/80
ISO : 200
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Ref : DSC_8927
February 14, 2013. (45/365)
Affection almost slinks or seeps through our lives. It lives with humble, un-dress, private things; soft slippers, old clothes, old jokes, the thump of a sleepy dog's tail on the kitchen floor, the sound of a sewing machine, a gollywog left on the lawn.
-----C.S. Lewis---
The Four Loves
Thanks to Asja?! for the texture used in this photo.
Music from the "Free Affection" playing somewhere in Marin County. (●'◡'●)
I am flip flopping between posting some new local pics and some old China pics.
One more from those taken just before my trip two weeks ago. The Lions at the Cleveland Metro Parks Zoo are my favorite animals and I enjoy watching and capturing pieces of their lives. I've just begun processing images from my trip - the first of these is my day 105 image on my Back Roads 365 blog posted today.
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
Love is what keeps us warm
love is what holds us together
love is what makes us form
love is more than just clever
Last Week i had a Photowalk with Photoffee team at Tejgaon Railway station..there during the time we all capturing pics here and there..suddenly this Person looks to be the little child Sister bt after talking to her get to know the child is her own child..:/..Basically she asked me to capture their both photo..so than i took a picture of them..:)..thats the story behind this pic..:)..You can see the Affection of Mother towards her child..
All Saints, Stansfield, Suffolk
Stansfield was a place I sometimes recalled with affection - the church, for it was one of the first I'd visited when I started doing the Suffolk Churches Site back in the late 1990s. Like its neighbour Rede, I remembered it as an utterly ordinary little place, but open and welcoming, full of a sense of its own past, the recent and more distant. But it was easy for me to find other places to go, and I did not come back to Stanstead for nearly 15 years.
In the gently rolling hills of south west Suffolk, tiny villages sleep the sleep of the quietly forgotten. How many people have even heard of Stansfield? Here, in this intensely agricultural corner, where the fold of a ploughed field can swallow a church tower, one might pass close by without ever knowing. So it was with a slight sense of guilt that I rolled up on a day of sub-zero temperatures in February 2013, flakes of snow combatting the north wind, only to find the church locked.
I needn't have worried, however. For ordinarily this church is open every day, and coming back a few weeks later on a sunny April Saturday I found the big south door wedged open with a kneeler, to let in the air and the sunshine and me.
Here, in the shadow of the glories of its famous other neighbour Denston, All Saints is a surprisingly large church. As you approach, the most striking survivals are a fine pair of decorated niches either side of the east window, as at Cotton, and a superb roodloft stair turret, rising above the roofline and surmounted by battlements, as at Clare. You can imagine a late medieval mason seeing the grand ones there and thinking hmm, I could do something like that. These survivals are signs that the Victorians were gentle with All Saints.
The light Victorian restorations in this part of East Anglia are a reminder that this was a poor place then, which also explains Denston's survival. This is a church of the common people, where the plowman and the sheepboy came to worship. The poor font where they were baptised has been terribly chopped about, and it is hard to see exactly which century produced it - Mortlock thought the late 13th. It now stands rather awkwardly on High Victorian marble legs.
The roof is late medieval, and is said to bear a carving on one spandrel of a scene from the legend of St George, although I am afraid that I could not make it out with my poor eyesight. An image niche containing a modern madonna marks the site of a chantry altar for the guild of St Mary. The piscina that served the altar can be seen beside it, beneath the window.
Another madonna, in the form of a relief, leans in a window splay between the two war memorials. These are both to the First World War, which may seem surprising; but one remembers the Stansfield Congregational Sunday School boys who went off to die, and was brought here from elsewhere. The other is the parish memorial.
Arthur Mee records the memory of Samuel Ogden, a Rector here in the 18th Century. He preached brilliant sermons in a growling voice, peppered with epigrams which were not understood by anyone in his congregation. It was not unknown for him to preach in Latin, or even Arabic. Mee claims that he was a popular man, and was admired by Dr Johnson. One wonders what the plowman and the sheepboy made of him.
Homage to Victor George ..... !
Shot taken from Marine drive, Cochin. As the rain is approaching father and son is running for shelter & trying to protect the cute little one from rain. I don't know what to write about the expressions on their faces. The father & son are concerned, the little one is curiously looking at something and may be wondering why everyone is running.
In split of a second they were out of my sight and it started raining. I tucked my camera in the bag, pulled out the rain cover over the bag, and started walked in the rain. As time passed the wind started to steal my umbrella, I folded it and stood there in the rain and the wind for probably an hour. Last year also I had stood in the same fashion but protecting someone from the wind and rain. But this was different, the wind was much more fierce and I could feel the rain drops piercing my soul .....
I love rain ....
DSC_8703_1
Among beardies, this is the ultimate face of endearment. Those eyes just scream "I love you so much..."
"... Now feed me worms you stupid fleshy piece of shit."
I pedaled as fast as I could... as if I were escaping from longing, from innocence, from her. Time has passed, and I have loved many women. And as they've held me close... and asked if I will remember them I've said, "Yes, I will remember you." But the only one I've never forgotten is the one who never asked...