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Owned and operated by the Kane County Forest Preserve, this majestic structure, built in the 19th century, uses 17th century technology to harness the wind for power.
This photo is part of a star trail that I'll put together later. For now, just a little something to wet your appetites.
You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy.
So let them go, let go of them. I tie no weights to my ankles.
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visit my Blog for credits & LM's♥
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In my opinion, this is best photo I've ever made :) ... Think about what I've written in title, humans. There's so much bad things everywhere
This is the end of every song that we sing
The fire burned out to ash, and the stars grown dim with tears
Cold and afraid, the ghosts of all that we've been
We toast with bitter dregs, to our emptiness
And the birds falling out of our skies
And the words falling out of our minds
And here is to love, to all the love
Falling out of our lives
Hopes and dreams are gone
The end of every song
And it all stops
We were always sure that we would never change
And it all stops
We were always sure that we would stay the same
But it all stops
And we close our eyes to sleep
To dream a boy and girl
Who dream the world is nothing but a dream
Where did it go?
Where did it go?
Broken voiced lament to call us home
This is the end of every song we sing
Where did it go?
Where did it go?
Where did it go?
Where did it go?
Broken voiced lament to call us home
Shy, a bit afraid of humans yet in need of love and strokes like all the animals. Near the Reactor 4, Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, Ukraine.
[Taken with Zenit 11 + Helios-44M-4 lens + AGFAPHOTO CT Precisa 100 film]
"I'm afraid of you
And all the things that I know...
Is guilt an emotion or some kind of tax,
the man upstairs makes you pay?
I'd never hurt you but I wouldn't worry if you were lost at sea.
Where is my pride, where is my self respect?
Does it serve any purpose to you?
I'd never leave ... I am too fucking scared of what you and your lawyers might do.
I'm afraid of you
And all the things that I know love can do.
I'm afraid of you -
Everyone would be if they only knew"
Vast - I'm afraid of you
www.youtube.com/watch?v=IIy4vXloCDE
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I can only confess, I'm afraid. Of what, I don't know; of whom, or why, seems foreign to me. All the explanations in my mind have solutions. I have nothing tangible to fear - the future is looming but it will be okay, no matter what. The downs in life will be followed by ups. I'll carve my own path in the concrete and alter what is set in stone and I will be different, just like everybody else.
So why is the dread in the pit of my stomach so inescapable? Why does it consume me some nights and reduce me to tears at the foot of my bed and break down all honesty until even I don't know why I'm there? What am I scared of facing? I have not lied, nor stolen, nor broken. I have not taken anything that was not mine to take. There is no dues I owe or penance to be paid and yet I feel like something is coming for me, to collect a debt I cannot gather. It cannot be love, I'm sure. I've already paid the cost of that happiness when it took a piece of me and claimed it for its own. I have nothing left to give that repoman, should he come knocking at my door. It would require immeasurable happiness first, before I could have enough to lose. And even then, I'd have to muster courage to allow that happiness in. I don't want to be wary of footsteps on my bedroom floor yet isn't that inevitable? They can only be followed by the swift footsteps of another; the heavy pounding of the debt collector knocking for his price.
That cannot be what I'm afraid of, not today.
And yet,
maybe.
Yesterday, with Hannah, was the first time I've ever been caught tresspassing. "Quick! Should we just... jump the fence?!"
and today I was in a slightly public area, so I saw like, four people. A little couple walked up to me, possibly in their sixties, and the man said, "clearly a girl after our own hearts!" I laughed and asked if they were photographers, they said yes but they didn't have their cameras on them today. I explained my 365 etc and they were charming and then they left.
Hm. Struggling with a few things. Predominantly, right now, french. My exam's tomorrow. Perhaps a little late to begin revision.
My mother never admitted to being afraid of dogs, but by the time I was in college, I finally figured out the real reason why I couldn't have one when I was a kid. She wasn't allergic, but I was certainly gullible.
When Sharon and I married in early 1964, we moved from L.A. to Eugene, OR. On our own, who knew what trouble we could get into. In March, we were walking in downtown Eugene, and there in a pet shop window, along with Patti Page singing "How Much is That Doggie in the Window," there was this adorable ball of cotton with four legs. Without a clue about parenting a dog, we walked out with an 8 week old Sealeyham Terrier, a leash, collar, two bowls. and not a clue as to how to bring up "Perky."
Well, while not the brightest dog, he was certainly the sweetest, most loyal, loveable, fun and car loving dog we would ever have. We spoiled him - of course - and after saying all the way home that he would not be in bed with us, at 10 PM, guess who was between the pillows!
No question, but he was going to need training. Just so happened that Bob Butts a Springfield trainer who said, "I can train any dog, no matter how young or old." Well, Perky should be a snap. Always wanting to please and/or play although, since both words started with "p" he got confused at times.
Bob had us go through the Sit/Stay Come/Down and that's about as far as we needed to go. I mean, WE knew what they meant. Now, Perky did try his best: Bob had us line our dogs, 18 plus Moose, the Great Dane, in a row 20 feet from us, the owned. We walked away, and turned to face our dogs. Seventeen were sitting and waiting for the next command to come. Half-way down the line, one dog was lying on his back and staring at ME over his shoulders. Well, at least he was staying.
Now, Perky knew that upon the command, "Come," he was supposed to run to a point three feet in front of me, then sit, and wait for "Heel."
"Perky, come!" Faster than a speeding bullet, he took off on a newly waxed gym, floor, stopped six feet in front of me and slid on his butt the rest of the way to my feet. He looked up - look at those eyes - and I, of course, said "Good boy."
Oh, boy, oh boy, oh boy. I did something right, and he pranced around me and jumped into my arms which we slightly prepared. I put him down, and he began to limp. Oh, oh! I had injured my dog. Have to get him to the vet. And he limped through the rest of the exercises. Finally, diploma firmly in teeth, I said, "Okay, Perk. Let;s go home." Miracle of miracles, no limp. He was cured and jumped into the back set of the car and took up what was to be his position for the next seven years: pack feet on the back seat; front paws around my neck while I drove. Even a ten our trip from Carson City to Las Vegas two years later, he held that position.
We loved that dog, and he reciprocated. When our daughter was born, we'd put her on a blanket in the middle of the living room. It was killing the dog that he was not supposed to be on the blanket, but he wanted to be friends with this new critter in his home. Literally, inch by inch, he got onto the blanket and after two weeks, there he was, giving Jennifer he first doggy bath.
That was the story of this marvelous dog. He had a good life. He rode 50,000 miles as we traveled the west. He got to guard Jen. And he learned how to open a cabinet and grab a Lorna Doone but then he would come and show us his new trick and swallow it before we could move or stop laughing (very bad form).
When Perky was seven, he had cancer. Stomach cancer. The whys, whens, and how longs didn't last long. In the toughest day of my life and the saddest day, I had to take him in and say goodbye while he was finally removed from the obvious pain. I cried then. I'm crying now.
It would be another kid and seven years before we got another dog, Patch (we weren't creative with names), who you'll meet next Sunday.
No matter what the info at the right says, this picture was taken on May 25, 1964 with a Kodak Retina III or IV. I don't remember which. I do remember that, with just a 50mm lens, it weighed 5 pounds! I also remember vividly that Perky was the only dog who owned us who allowed his picture to be taken. Btw, you may never see a Sealeyham Terrier. I don't know why they weren't that popular, but breeders stopped breeding them, and started breeding Lakelands, Norfolks, Norwichs, and Wire Fox Terriers. You'll meet two of those plus a Cairn in the following weeks.
Boise: What if I'm not a good painter?
Leonard the fox: As Van Gogh once said, "What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?"
Afraid
HDR 7 scatti
Fotocamera: Nikon D700
Aperture: f/2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/3200 s
Lente: 14 mm
ISO: 200
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
Flash: Off, Did not fire
Lens: Nikkor AF-S FX 14-24mm f/2.8G ED
Afraid? Scared? Think it will hurt? I know you have thought about it so go ahead.....juuuussstt...... do it!
Just when you thought it was safe to get out of the water!!
Checkout my website at www.iLIVESEY.com if you feel so inclined.
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Licensing - You are free to: Share / Adapt / Use for any purpose (including commercially)
"Cease to know or to tell
or to see or to be your own.
Cease to know or to tell
or to see or to be your own.
Have someone else's
will as your own.
Have someone else's
will as your own –
You are beautiful
and you are alone.
You are beautiful
and you are alone..."
- Nico
'Afraid'
Model: Camilla@Glamour
MUAH: Sabina Pinsone
Styling: Chiara Valvo
Ph: Manuela Iodice
Published on Papercut
Utkiksplatsen på Sveriges sydligaste udde, Smygehuk, var helt övergiven denna vackra sommardag med rekordvärme bara för att ingen ville bli våt när vågorna slog över räcket.
The vantage point on the southernmost cape of Sweden, Smygehuk, was completely abandoned this beautiful summer day with record heat only because no one wanted to get wet when the waves struck over the railing.
Explore 2013-08-03