View allAll Photos Tagged broken
Broken egg found near home, at plain place, not under tree. I have no idea about which birds or snakes egg it is. Kept back near by as we are guessing it might be Indian cobra's egg...
Shot after a storm raged Nordre Skøyen Hovedgård in Oslo, Norway in July 2010. During the several hour long storm, lightning struck on average 1000 times per hour.
There was some guy just chilling out and watching TV in that box.
Foreground lighting: One bare strobe fired from camera left, about 2 metres back.
Light streaks across the window are from passing cars.
...with Thames Valley Police shielding us from traffic.
A pothole did something to the electrics this time we thinks.
I managed to break another key this week.
The last time I did this I held on to the remains. I wondered why?
Broken leg, broken heart, broken family...is it ever positive to break something?
Break the bread (as in the Biblical sense), to start a meal, that's a good thing! ;-)
It's only been about 2 weeks since I put these new strings on my classical guitar and the D string broke. I don't play it that much, so it definitely didn't break because I've been playing the guitar hard.
The volume knob on my Sony hi-fi is broken. I thought I might be able to fix it if I opened it up. Turns out that I can't.
Photo by Hagen Hoppe . www.hagenhoppe.com
More Larp-Photos: www.exploregraphy.com/category/stories/larp/
Nutzungsrechte: Creative Commons BY-NC-ND
My rather expensive badminton racket broke after not very long. Tried to get it replaced but the idiots at central sports decided it was not the 'correct type of break' (like a british rail 'the wrong type of rain'). I threw it away yesterday after holding on to it for the best part of a year....
Back to the analog way that Lomography calls their rule : the surprise of taken pictures by a shitty camera after fimprocessing. I have another rule : break the display of your shitty digital camera...
Now you ask me to move past;
forward with this hurt inside.
Broken now; and falling apart.
Touch the clock of time; turn it back
for the mercy of my soul.
I can not move . . . past this pain;
words, feelings and disguise;
the truth is out; it can not hide.
My anger fills me and I am hushed.
Not bruised; but broken
heart beats in crazed rhythm;
it's hard to say what I'll do
if I'm pushed.
I walk away; turn off the phone;
your words haunting my soul.
Cynthia E. Jones