View allAll Photos Tagged certainty
The Robin is the One
That interrupt the Morn
With hurried—few—express Reports
When March is scarcely on—
The Robin is the One
That overflow the Noon
With her cherubic quantity—
An April but begun—
The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home—and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best
Emily Dickinson
With the pressures of lockdown and the only certainty coming in the coming months that photographic opportunities will be restricted, once again I look back in to my archives, this time for a sunny trip over to the Isle of Wight.
Today, we focus on the Leyland Olympians new in 1988 and 1989 for Southern Vectis - golden oldies that had recently received a mid-life refurbishment and had been repainted in to the controversial Route Rouge livery. The Route Rouge concept was one to brand the red-branded routes with their own colour, with the Island Explorer blue routes being blue. The more marginal, local routes then received a royal blue livery which became the ubiquitous livery for single decks.
The Route Rouge routes were the 2, connecting Sandown with Shanklin to Newport and Cowes, alternating half-hourly with the 3 from Ventnor to Shanklin, to Newport and Cowes. Here is 711 arriving in Shanklin on a 2.
12th July 2003
Transvestism is something those of us who engage with it usually keep secret in our lives. Personally I struggle with this and do live in fear of being outed. I've wanted to dress up as a female since I was a young teenager yet that deep desire terrified me and did so for decades of my life. I am genuinely terrified of people finding out I cross-dress as a woman and yet I adore it!
I absolutely love dressing up as a woman and do find it joyful and rewarding and on occasion highly erotic. I find women attractive and I also find I want to look like them as well, I envy women and cannot deny a deep desire to emulate their physical appearance and to act as if I was female.
Some people tell me this is weird and perverted and I would be lying if I said such descriptions did not cause me distress as I probably deep down am seeking some form of acceptance and tolerance to be allowed to set free this aspect of my persona. The truth is I do feel quite comfortable presenting as a a woman and can feel distraught that I'm not really one at all. The male in me is also at odds with this recurring emotion and sometimes I can be dressed as a woman and find part of me screaming inside saying 'what on earth are you doing?'. It's upsetting yet I'm frequently on a real high and often with a highly enjoyable pleasurable thrill being generated by daring to try and look female.
I know it's not popular and I'm told unwelcome but I won't deny I do at times experience sexual arousal, usually during the transformation stage as of course I don't desire any tell tale reminders of being male once I am completely transformed as Helene. I also get a buzz at the notion of being sexy and feminine and like the idea of being seductive and being found desirable by men. That aspect is nothing to do with sex and everything to do with being selfish and vain. I enjoy the art of female illusion and attracting men is probably my ego being pandered to by the thrill of fooling a male into believing I'm female. I'm a shallow creature at heart I fear.
This photo may be interpreted as a bit tragic and sad by some as I will honestly admit that I was trying to see if I could be feminine and sexy and attractive to men. I am I think, deluding myself that I could ever be such a woman but it was exciting and great fun to prepare for this picture and pose for it. It is so far removed from heterosexual male life I am in a way quite shocked I actually did it.
I loved shaving my legs, chest and arms and wearing knickers and just wearing a shirt and high heels, it felt incredible and I was definitely into doing the pose for the camera. I was loving it, totally loving it. My issue is my male self is taken aback by my willingness to try and be a woman and I have issues with accepting just how much I enjoy trying to pass myself off as a woman. I then feel reckless for taking the picture and I feel even more reckless posting it on Flickr and expressing my paradoxical thoughts on it all. Yet, no denying it, I feel an urge to still go ahead and post the image and narrative despite part of me saying stop!
Well, despite all that what I know with certainty was I really enjoyed myself in this photo, it felt fabulous to be dressed this way and acting the part and I know I can never give it up, it is just the most amazing thing to do as a man. Bur hey...I would say that, I'm a transvestite :-)
It's day four of London Fashion Week with AGRO STUDIO at Fashion Scout. The 3 pm show is Agro Studio by George and Angus. They have extensive experience in styling, tailoring, and set work. Both are graduates of LCF. Their SS25 collection, titled Prophet, references tarot cards, the Joker, and the contradictions of modern life, exploring the tension between certainty and confusion. The collection features couture ball gowns paired with British school shirting, as well as combinations of leather with tulle and shearling with technical fabrics.
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All photographs © Andrew Lalchan
“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”
Vincent van Gogh
Control, apparently, is not the answer. People who need certainty in their lives are less likely to make art that is risky, subversive, complicated, iffy, suggestive or spontaneous. What's really needed is nothing more than a broad sense of what you are looking for, some strategy for how to find it, and an overriding willingness to embrace mistakes and surprises along the way. Simply put, making art is chancy - it doesn't mix well with predictability. Uncertainty is the essential, inevitable and all-prevasive companion to your desire to make art. And tolerance for uncertainty is the prerequisite to succeeding.
Another excerpt from Art & Fear. I found it meaningful, hopefully some others out here shall too.
This was an image I made in Vermont, near a small church we had stopped to photographed. The ground was layered in fallen leaves and I was laying in them staring straight up, admiring the blue sky and yellow leaves, the warmth of the sun, and the lazily drifting clouds. This was how it all felt to me.
Like Pablo Neruda, I will fashion
romanticism from tender thoughts,
writing each word from the depths
of my Italian heart,...
... engraving each line into stone.
I will wrap these gifts tightly in the certainty
of forever, and place them at your glorious
feet, tesoro, in complete admiration.
*Seen in Explore.
And remind yourself that this very moment is the only one you know you have for sure.”
~Oprah Winfrey
“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be”
~Lao Tzu
“The greatest loss of time is delay and expectation, which depend upon the future. We let go the present, which we have in our power, and look forward to that which depends upon chance, and so relinquish a certainty for an uncertainty.”
~ Seneca
A 16x24 C-Print from "Certainty Principle" an exhibition of photography, video, and installation by Michael David Murphy. Sept. 23rd, 2010 through Oct. 30th, 2010 at Spruill Gallery in Atlanta.
Searching for something this morning and finding myself still in a mood to cross-dress but not actually being able to do so I came across this article I wrote for a transvestite magazine which was published in 2012. I felt it rather relevant to my current desires and situation so I thought I would share it here.
My photo narratives are frequently the recipient of negative responses so I would say this is purely my own point of view and outlook, it's personal to me so others will undoubtedly feel different about what I say and how I deal with my limited opportunities to indulge in my transvestism. I am experiencing a need just now to talk openly so this photo page is my outlet, I hope I can be forgiven my indulgence and my delusion that others may be interested in the issues I write about. It's just...well, it;s good to talk :-)
Okay so here is the (long) article from 2012:
Managing the desire by Helene Barclay
Being a transvestite is not always easy. It’s a cocktail of highs and lows, excitement and fears, joy and angst, exploration and withdrawal, a world of paradoxes, confusions, thrills and often a degree of recklessness. Left unchecked the desire to dress and appear as a woman can potentially take over and possibly lead to personal ruin. This need not be the case as ruin can be easily avoided but it requires a degree of management and compromise but one that long term is worth engaging with.
Transvestites are actually very different to each other, especially in coping and dealing with the in built desire to dress as a woman. At the extremes there are those who loathe their desire and either suppress it or dress as women very privately and then there are those who are completely open and dress as women with no inhibition and complete confidence and venture out into the world very happily presenting as a female. The only certainty we all share in common is we are men that like to wear women's clothing.
Cross-dressing can give rise to certain emotions and experiences that as men we have concerns about. For example many in wider society consider men who dress up as women to be homosexual. Heterosexual cross-dressers are fearful of this as they love to become women yet are not attracted to men and do not feel comfortable having their sexuality questioned yet know they enjoy being feminine. It’s one of the many paradoxes faced by transvestites.
There are homosexual cross-dressers as well as bi-sexual and heterosexual, we cover the whole spectrum like any other social group. Cross-dressing is a desire that can bring a lot of reward and fulfillment and not something one can escape easily. It can be sexually very exciting and this can cause concerns with some transvestites as they feel bad for being aroused and deriving pleasure from it. Over time, the sexual aspects may fade but should be accepted as part of the whole experience if arousal does occur. After all, I think dressing up and trying to portray oneself as a woman is a very erotic thing to do.
Yet another cross-dressing paradox is a reckless desire to dress as a woman all of the time. I should add the caveat I am talking about transvestites and not transsexuals. My focus is on men who enjoy dressing up as women. Of course for some of us, I include myself here, there is a definite element of being transsexual but often not powerful enough to follow the path to transitioning into a woman through surgery and hormones.
Recklessness can increase as one cross-dresses more and more to the point of self destruction if not contained. It is also very easy to become selfish when engaging in transvestite indulgences and focus only on your own desires.
I will admit I was excessive in my early cross-dressing period by continuously buying dresses, makeup, wigs, high heel shoes, perfumes and jewellery. My spending began to impact on the income I usually provided for my wife and family. I would see a dress and buy it, I would see a pair of shoes I adored and buy them. I began to think I should be dressed as a woman all day and thought of little else, it became a consuming self obsessed pursuit and was completely selfish as I began to jeopardise the security of those whom I hold precious in my life. Yet, here I was diverting funds to my own desires at their expense. I am deeply ashamed by my actions and have deep regrets but I feel grateful I did come to my senses and stop the excesses. It was a moment when a shop assistant remarked as I was buying a beautiful dress and she was sure my wife would love it. I felt suddenly ashamed as the dress was for me, and it was far too expensive to be indulging in such a luxury when others relied upon me and I had thought I was committed to providing for them. I realised I was selfish and could ill afford to be buying such clothing at the expense of the family I adore.
I was shaken by the experience and still burn inside at my actions and cringe at my behaviour in those days.
Another development was further recklessness in that I had this increasing desire to blurt out that I was a transvestite. For some reason I wanted to tell everyone I dressed up as a woman. Fortunately this was nipped in the bud by a dose of reality from a woman who helped shape my transvestite life into a more fulfilling and enjoyable pursuit. It was Lorraine Walker of the dressing service ‘Hide & Sleek’ in Fife, Scotland that put me on the road to getting the most enjoyment out of my desire to cross-dress without impacting on my family. Her first bit of advice when I mentioned my urge to tell the world I dressed up as a woman was why? Why did people need to know? If someone has no need to know then don’t tell them. She was right! I owe her more than I have ever expressed. That advice pulled me up and set me thinking about how I could enjoy being a transvestite but not cause further distress or jeopardy to my family and friends.
I realised the key to being a contented transvestite was to be grounded, be realistic about it and to achieve that required I manage the desire and that I accept compromises. I love my wife and my family and actually have a life I have no wish to lose. For awhile I almost blew it and stood to lose a lot and cause great upset to loved ones. I also know I am a transvestite for life. I tried to suppress the desire for over twenty years and now know it is impossible. I am a transvestite, I will always be a transvestite. I am I realise, a transvestite for life, I cannot escape that, it is a fundamental part of who I am.
I will freely admit I love to become a woman, I adore it, I feel so at home presenting myself as a female. I gain joy and contentment and always feel euphoric and truly exhilarated when I dress up as a woman. When I am cross-dressed I want to remain a woman forever, the emotional intoxication is powerful and I believe with all my being I must remain female forever as this is the real me. Yet...a few hours later that all consuming emotional mindset is receding and I’m happy and not at all disappointed to return to being a man.
I have come to accept that these powerful moments I always experience are now part of being the transvestite I am. I can now lose myself in them when they occur as I know the course it will take. I gain a lot from freeing myself to embrace them when they occur without fear they will divert me from the life I have built and enjoy.
I now rarely get to cross-dress as my family commitments require more of my time but I love this as I know that life means more to me than my inner desire to be a woman. I do have to give up on opportunities I hoped to have to dress as a woman but I feel very fortunate that I do get to cross-dress at some point. I feel very lucky that my family tolerate this and I am allowed to shave my legs, chest, arms and pluck my eyebrows. Not many transvestites are able to do this without issue with partners and family. It is all part of the compromise, their concession to me.
I won’t deny my biggest selfish high in life always occurs when I dress up as my female alter ego Helene, for a few hours I am on the adventure of my life as to be a man who pretends to be a woman is an experience I find beyond compare.
I feel a lot more relaxed and confident and fulfilled since I began to manage my cross-dressing desires. They do occur, quite powerfully buy often at times I know I cannot indulge so they have to be ignored. I still feel contented as I know I am able to dress as a woman at some point. It may not be right when I feel the urge to do so but it will happen, that is a good thing I find.
Compromise is probably the biggest thing that has increased my fun as a transvestite. I have a smaller more manageable female wardrobe now with classic, hopefully timeless styles, so I rarely buy any female clothes.The family finances are not threatened by my selfish actions anymore and this makes me feel better about becoming Helene.
My point in all of this is I urge others to avoid becoming selfish, you can easily fall into such a scenario and to put family and loved ones first before anything involving ones desire to cross-dress. This ensures when you do cross-dress you are confident you are not impacting too greatly on people close to you. There is always a consequence from cross-dressing but minimising it’s effects is an aim worth pursuing.
I would also say it is worth accepting oneself for who you are rather than denying your own feelings. I am confident now with my own sexuality so that I can now become a woman in a much more confident way. I do enjoy being a woman so like to act as if I am female so I like being admired as a woman by men. Despite my vanity enjoying the male attention when I’m Helene I am not homosexual so I feel more confident as a person. I mention this as I used to have a lot of issues as I found it difficult to accept I could enjoy male attention when I felt I was heterosexual. I now feel it is part of being Helene, the female side of me. To me I am female when I dress as one so being admired by men is acceptable. Obviously deep down I know I’m a man so I know my boundaries. However, they are only my boundaries, I think sexuality is down to each individual and so your own feelings will be different to my own. Again, the point I am trying to make is accept yourself and don’t torture yourself about your sexuality.
Careful management of your transvestite activities will I believe result in a lot more fun, daring and adventure when you cross-dress as you have set out your parameters and know you will be gaining from the activity whilst minimising the effects it has on partners and family. I feel there considerations should always be factored in before engaging in any cross-dressing opportunities.
Helene Barclay, April 2012
e-mail: helene_barclay@yahoo.co.uk
Butlins established a holiday camp at Mosney in 1948 and the GNR(I) built a halt, which had a reasonably good service from Dublin Connolly (although I cannot recall with certainty that the "inmates" were actually allowed out). Now, you could buy a "day pass", but I'm mean (and could not support the organisation which failed to save a VS), so I probably took the train or - more likely - walked down the strand and over the track!
In any event, 042 in a sort-of IÉ livery, has arrived from Dublin Connolly and, as intending passengers wait, runs-round her train.
All photographs are my copyright and must not be used without permission. Unauthorised use will result in my invoicing you £1,500 per photograph and, if necessary, taking legal action for recovery.
Title.
( LUMIX G3 shot )
Manhattan. New York. USA. 2017. … 4 / 7
(Photo of the day. Unreleased.)
Images:
Linda Sikhakhane … Closer to the Heart
youtu.be/BshCm2zi0KQ?si=DIk0HgPilkJLQ8xo
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
Volume 15 😄
The following is still in its draft stage and will be revised further.
Key parts are not disclosed.
The order of the content shown here is mixed.
(Of course, this is not the final version.)
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
The summer light of Manhattan afternoons flared against the glass facades of the high-rises, and each time the heat of the asphalt wavered through the alleys, the massive building of the FBI’s New York Field Office seemed to draw in the clamor of the city, holding a grave and immovable stillness, while within its walls a taut tension and vigilance seeped forth. Beyond the thick iron doors set into its corner, the countless eyes of surveillance cameras interlaced with the motions of guards, proclaiming an order unshaken by the heat waves or the murmur of the crowd outside.
Special Agent Veronica Reeves, carrying the weight of long years of experience yet with a gaze still honed to an unerring edge, sat at the long desk by the window, quietly deciphering the thick bundle of reports spread before her—accounts of what had unfolded thus far. The shafts of heat-laden sunlight pressed through the glass, warping the air, and against that trembling her thoughts held fast, focusing upon the minutiae, drawing out, in three dimensions, the possibilities of the case and the breadth of its consequences.
The figures and map symbols inscribed upon the documents she reassembled in her mind, as though enfolding the arteries of the overheated city itself—the courses of traffic, the currents of people, the compression of the skyline—ordering the incident’s first movements with a hand imbued with a quiet, frigid certainty. The sterile white light of the ceiling LEDs cast swaying shadows upon the papers, and even those faint tremors at the edges of her sight seemed to enter her calculus, like unknown variables absorbed into the mesh of her analysis.
Her fingertip traced a single point upon the map, and in that gesture she drew together the city’s flows, the density of its crowds, the thicket of its structures, conjuring within her mind a three-dimensional rendering of the ground. The clash of red and blue signals at intersections, the exhaust drifting at corners, the tempo of footsteps, the shadows of cars idling at the curb—all converged upon the figures and symbols of the page, lifting before her the living geometry of New York.
Fragments of reports crackled from radios and telephones, slipping into her net of thought and fixed into the coordinates of time and place. At what moment, in what place, had the current of the crowd shifted? Who might have slipped within which building? The jam of traffic, the swell of onlookers, the frameworks of the structures—these she aligned, reducing error to its smallest margin, until the hidden contours of the scene emerged.
Her eyes remained calm, but the faint tightening of the muscles around them betrayed the sense of danger running beneath. With her finger pressing upon a point on the map, she drew upon the memory of old cases, of the city’s blueprints, calculating risk along each imagined path. The city’s shape, the crowd’s density, the placing of exits—all she set upon a grid of logic, hypothesizing every possible turn the future might take.
Her gaze halted upon a photograph in the file, parsing the expressions of the crowd, the disposition of guards, the position of obstacles. Cold though her eyes remained, they missed no dissonance, no trace of the unnatural, intent upon catching every variable within the net of reason, undistracted by the fever of the summer city.
In the office, where the cool of the air conditioning crossed with the heat outside, her thoughts gathered speed—silent, assured, relentless. What would unfold next? Which routes were safe, which led into peril? Each decision, measured in the span of a heartbeat, bore upon the safety of the crowd, upon the life of the candidate. Her logic did not waver, its threads weaving together in her hand like cords unraveling the complexity of the city.
Before her stood not only the files, but also the glow of monitors, the static of radios. Each was but a source of fragments, meaningless until passed through the filter of her thought. To bind data to the streets, images to reality, was the task at hand, advancing cold and quiet even as the heat of summer pressed against the glass.
The sweltering air outside rattled the windows; the distant sirens and the rumble of the city did not shatter her focus, but rather deepened her mental simulation, lending depth to the field she constructed within. Figures on the page fused with the living breath of the streets, reason drawing them together into clarity, and she readied herself to strike upon the next move.
Each sweep of her fingertip across the map made the city’s avenues rise in relief within her mind: the density of buildings, the movement of passersby, the gaze of cameras, the stations of guards. All chained together, cold and inexorable, suggesting the next action. Veronica drew a long breath, and with her exhale, wove the scattered variables into a single fabric, fixing her gaze upon the heart of the incident. In that moment, the distant sirens, the horns, the shuffling of feet at a crosswalk—all dissolved into her reasoning, each sound settling into place like a piece of a puzzle within the flow of logic. The city shimmered in heat, light and shadow in feverish scatter, but her mind cut through the glare, quietly tracing the full outline of the unfolding event.
At last, Veronica lifted the receiver of the internal line, feeling the cold resin beneath her fingers, and summoned Deputy Special Agent Elliot.
“Put me through to Jack Vance, Secret Service.”
“Understood.”
The black Ford SUV cut through the summer heat, racing down the streets. At the wheel, Jack’s profile was set with strain, while in the backseat Ana leaned forward, arms stretched protectively over the children, shouting in desperation.
“Keep your eyes ahead, Jack!”
The children, jolted by the car’s violent tremors, cried out with voices that wavered between cheers and screams, unable to discern the line between fear and thrill. Beside them, Mika bit her lip, struck dumb, staring in mute shock.
Behind them, the pursuing car roared, bullets sparking off the asphalt and leaving the acrid tang of gunpowder in the air. Jack twisted the wheel, his Ford scraping sparks along a wall of concrete, gunfire rattling through the city’s very skin. Ignoring lights and crowds alike, he veered the SUV up onto the sidewalk, plunging forward as screams scattered into the air, driving on as if to outpace the terror that pursued them.
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title.
( LUMIX G3 shot )
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 4 / 7
(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）
Images:
Linda Sikhakhane … Closer to the Heart
youtu.be/BshCm2zi0KQ?si=DIk0HgPilkJLQ8xo
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第15弾。 😄
以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。
重要な部分は公開していません。
公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。
(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
マンハッタンの夏の午後の光が高層ビル群のガラスにぎらつき、アスファルトの熱気が路地を揺らすたびに、FBIニューヨーク支局の巨大な建物は都市の喧騒を吸い込み、どっしりと静けさを保ちながらも、その内部に張り詰めた警戒と緊張をにじませていた。その角に設えられた厚い鉄の扉の向こうでは、監視カメラの無数の視線と警備員の動きが絡み合い、外界の熱波や人々のざわめきにも揺るがぬ秩序を守っていることを告げていた。
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス特別捜査官は、豊富な経験を背負いながらもなお研ぎ澄まされた眼差しで、窓際の長机に広げられた、これまでに起こった報告がまとめられた資料の束を静かに読み解いていた。差し込んだ外光の熱の束が窓ガラスを透かし、空気を歪ませ、彼女の思考はそれに抗うように細部まで集中され、事件の可能性や影響範囲を論理の中に立体的に描き出していった。
書類に記された数字や地図の記号を、熱せられた街の動線や人々の流れ、ビルの密集度までを含めるかのように頭の中で再構築し、事件の初動を論理的に整理していく手つきには、冷たくも静かな確信が宿っていた。
天井のLEDの白い光が、紙面に落ちる影を揺らし、視界の隅で振れるその影さえも、未知の変数として分析に取り込まれているかのようであった。
ヴェロニカは指先で地図上の一点をなぞり、都市の動線、人の密度、建築の密集度を瞬時に組み合わせ、頭の中で現場の立体的な状況を描き出していた。信号の赤や青が交錯する交差点、街角に漂う排気ガスの匂い、通行人の歩行速度、路上に停められた車の影――それらすべてが、紙面の数字や地図上の印と結びつき、ニューヨークという巨大な都市の立体的な動線を彼女の思考に浮かび上がらせた。
無線や電話からの断片的な報告も、彼女の分析の網に吸い込まれ、時間と空間に配置される。どの瞬間に、どの場所で、人々の流れが変化したか。誰がどの建物に潜入した可能性があるか。交通の混雑状況と、観衆の動き、建築物の構造を組み合わせ、最小の推測誤差で現場の全貌を描く。
彼女の瞳は冷静そのもので、しかし微細な筋肉の緊張が、その奥に潜む危機意識を示していた。手元の地図の一点を指でなぞり、過去の事件や都市計画のデータを呼び出しながら、シナリオごとにリスクを計算する。都市の構造、観衆の密度、出口の配置――あらゆる要素を論理のグリッドに沿って並べ、想像されるすべての事態を仮定する。
ヴェロニカは資料の中の写真に目を留め、観衆の表情や警備員の配置、障害物の位置を詳細に分析した。その視線は冷徹でありながらも、微細な違和感や不自然さを見逃さず、都市の熱気に流されることなく、論理の網の中に全ての変数を捕らえようとしていた。
冷房の空気と夏の熱気が交錯するオフィス内で、彼女の思考は静かに、しかし確実に速度を上げていく。次に何が起こりうるか、どのルートが安全で、どのルートが危険か。瞬間ごとの判断が、観衆の安全と候補者の命を左右する。論理は揺るぎなく、都市の複雑さを紐解く糸のように彼女の手の中で絡まり合った。
彼女の前には資料だけでなく、コンピュータの画面や無線のディスプレイも並ぶ。それらは断片的な情報の源にすぎず、ヴェロニカの思考というフィルターを通すことで初めて意味を持つ。データと現実の光景を繋ぎ、事件の全体像を構築する作業は、夏の街の熱気の中でも冷たく静かに進行した。
外の熱気は窓ガラスを揺らし、街のざわめきや遠くで響くサイレンは、彼女の集中をかき乱すどころか、逆に現場の臨場感を補強し、頭の中のシミュレーションに奥行きを与えた。紙面の数字と街の実像が、冷たい理性の中で重なり合い、彼女は次の一手を論理的に導き出す準備を整えていった。
彼女の指先が地図をなぞるたび、都市の街路が脳内で立体的に浮かび上がり、建物の密度、通行人の流れ、監視カメラの視野、警備員の位置が、冷徹な論理の中で連鎖し、次の行動を示唆する。ヴェロニカは深く息を吸い、吐き出すと同時に、無言のうちに全ての変数を繋ぎ合わせ、事件の核心へと視線を固定した。その瞬間、遠くの街路から聞こえるサイレンの音や車のクラクション、交差点で立ち止まる人々の足音が、彼女の頭の中ではパズルのピースとなり、論理的な流れの中に溶け込んでいった。都市は暑さに揺れ、光と影が乱反射するが、ヴェロニカの思考は静かに、その熱気を透過して事件の全体像を描き出していった。
ヴェロニカは、静かに内線電話の受話器を手に取り、その冷たい樹脂の感触を指先で確かめながら、エリオット副特別捜査官を呼び出し、いった。
「シークレットサービスのジャックバンスにつないで」
「了解」
ーーーーーー
黒のSUVフォードは、夏の熱気を押し裂くように街路を駆け抜けた。ハンドルを握るジャックの横顔には焦燥が張りつき、後部座席に身を寄せたアナは、子供たちを庇うように腕を伸ばしながら、それでも必死に声を張り上げた。
「前を見て、ジャック！」
車体の振動に身を揺らしながら、子供たちは歓声とも悲鳴ともつかぬ声をあげ、恐怖と興奮の境を知らぬままに叫んでいる。その隣でミカは唇を噛み、言葉を失ったまま呆然としている。
背後では追撃の車が唸りを上げ、硝煙の匂いを残して弾丸がアスファルトを跳ねた。ハンドルを切ったジャックの車体がコンクリート壁面に火花が散らせた。都市の皮膚を削るようにして銃声が響く。ジャックのフォードは信号も人波も無視し、歩道へと飛び込み、群衆の悲鳴を振り払うように疾走した。
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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This image doesn’t merely show — it incises.
A flower, perhaps — but one pierced, transfigured, torn from within by a geometric outgrowth, a rigid twist that disrupts the soft language of petals. It is no longer a curve, but a fracture. No longer a pistil, but a spiral of shards, as if the core of the living had been corrupted — or enhanced — by a foreign intelligence.
Textures clash in silent tension: the smooth, fleshy softness of organic form against the angular, crystalline rigidity of an unidentified object. And yet they coexist. They even merge — as if this cybernetic graft were a natural mutation, a logical extension of a world where floral and mineral, organic and synthetic, no longer need distinction.
The lighting, dramatic and directional, deepens shadows and glorifies the fracture. The tight framing traps the gaze inside this forced cohabitation. There is no escape — only the certainty of irreversible fusion.
Blooming — but a blooming that is unfamiliar, uneasy, even painful. A beauty born from tension, from collision, from interference.
“One very important difference between color and monochromatic photography is this: in black and white you suggest; in color you state. Much can be implied by suggestion, but statement demands certainty .… absolute certainty” ~ Paul Outerbridge.
These little insects, (mosquitos?), were flying far too fast for me to capture them with any certainty. One certainly could not focus on them, not even with auto-focus. So I set the camera to manual focus and fired off lots of pictures while gradually rotating the focus ring. Here using f4, but later using a smaller aperture to give me a better chance with a larger depth of field.
We often see only the fruits
and call the outcome success.
But the essence lies in becoming –
in the silent web that nourishes, sustains, and gives strength:
unnoticed, slow, and steady.
An autumn walk is not about harvest,
but about the richness of forms and colours
that make any harvest possible in the first place.
Autumn is the time to look back with gratitude,
to share what has guided and shaped us,
and to honour what has ripened within.
Like Frederick the little mouse,
who gathers colours and rays of sunlight,
we too carry the abundance of experience within us –
in the quiet certainty
that after the stillness of winter ❄️
a new spring will come. 🌱
A 16x20 C-Print from "Certainty Principle" an exhibition of photography, video, and installation by Michael David Murphy. Sept. 23rd, 2010 through Oct. 30th, 2010 at Spruill Gallery in Atlanta.
Qasr Al-Kharana, Jordan
Qasr Al-Kharana (Arabic: قصر خرّانة), sometimes Qasr al-Harrana, Qasr al-Kharanah, Kharaneh or Hraneh, is one of the best-known of the desert castles located in present-day eastern Jordan, about 60 kilometres (37 mi) east of Amman and relatively close to the border with Saudi Arabia. It is believed to have been built sometime before the early 8th century AD, based on a graffito in one of its upper rooms, despite visible Sassanid influences. A Greek or Byzantine house may have existed on the site. It is one of the earliest examples of Islamic architecture in the region. Its purpose is hard to ascertain with any degree of certainty.
The building is a square 35 metres (115 ft) on each side, with small projecting corner towers and a projecting rounded entrance on the south side. It is made of rough limestone blocks set in a mud-based mortar. Decorative courses of flat stones run through the facing. On the inside the building has 60 rooms on two levels arranged around a central courtyard, with a rainwater pool in the middle. Many of the rooms have small slits for light and ventilation. Some of the rooms are decorated with pilasters, medallions and blind niches finished in plaster.
Three Legged Cross, Dorset
COLEOPTERA > Staphylinidae (Rove Beetles) >
Tachyporinae > Tachyporini > Tachyporus hypnorum
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Rove Beetles constitute the largest family of beetles in Britain with 1000+ species separated into various subfamilies and tribes. Whilst some of the bigger species can be easily recognised, the vast majority are small and inconspicuous and, as such, pose many identification problems. With a bit of help I narrowed this particular specimen down to the Tachyporinae subfamily with 66 species, and from there to Tachyporus. The key for that genera led me to 14 species and finally, by checking the characteristics of each, I was able to identify with some certainty that it’s Tachyporus hypnorum. Not bad for a species that is only 2-3mm long.
Death, taxes, & a gwa, gwb or gwu leading 7AD1 every damn Saturday. On Christmas Eve 2022, said train is seen approaching Johnsons road, Calomba (SA) with bland standard gwa001-alf23 in charge.
The latter loco was having its 2nd run since repainting into the basic yellow Aurizon livery.
©2006 kelly angard
Faith is a process of leaping into the abyss not on the basis of any certainty about "where" we shall land, but rather on the belief that we "shall" land.
- Carter Heyward
for me, this is how I envision "the" moment...that magical and mysterious moment when we are able to simply get out of our own way and allow ourselves to leap into the abyss of uncertainty. i can't help but wonder what actually changes inside of us in a single moment...what is it that we gain in the blink of an eye that wasn't there just a nanosecond before?
With the certainty of tnt 37s and the faint possibility of sun, I was expecting competition for a vantage point on Campbell Road bridge (Eastleigh) but was amazed to be the only person in attendance for this working. 37612 leads sister 37610 on the 1Q53 to Southampton up Yard ex Eastleigh Arlington works on Wednesday 2 September.
Food for thought:
I go into the grocery store and take a candy bar. I'm not really stealing because:
a. the grocer put it out on the shelves where I am free to take it; he deserves it.
b. the store owners and candy makers should be happy that I stole it because that means the candy is desirable
c. I will tell all my friends, family, acquaintances where I got the candy so they can go
there too.
Now, does that seem ok?
**Edit--Yes, I am touchy recently about my images showing up in unexpected places! For the record: if you would like to blog, facebook, graffiti, WHATEVER--any of my images on flickr---FM me first! I will (with near certainty) say yes.
o tempo foge e ninguém nota - há as sinistras pausas / que têm lugar assegurado / no meio das certezas [trad.: josé lira]
“When you’re young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can’t make up their minds. Perhaps it’s a way of admitting that things can’t ever bear the same certainty again.”
― Julian Barnes
"But if in your thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all the other seasons, And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing."
- Kahlil Gibran
I'm grateful for your visits and comments, my friends.
Best seen on black - press L or click on image above.
“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.” –Vincent van Gogh
Better in L
NO BANNERS, please!
When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we go through a short period of tranquility. But the dead dreams begin to rot within us and to infect our entire being.
We become cruel to those around us, and then we begin to direct this cruelty against ourselves. That’s when illnesses and psychoses arise. What we sought to avoid in combat – disappointment and defeat – come upon us because of our cowardice.
And one day, the dead, spoiled dreams make it difficult to breathe, and we actually seek death. It’s death that frees us from our certainties, from our work, and from that terrible peace of our Sunday afternoons
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click to activate the icon of slideshow: the small triangle inscribed in the small rectangle, at the top right, in the photostream;
or…. press L to enlarge;
clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;
oppure…. premi L per ingrandire l'immagine;
www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...
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My health company, every three months, for three days, sends me to cover a shortage of staff, in the Lipari hospital, (and so do my colleagues), in the little free time I have available, I dedicate myself to my photographic passion.
Lipari is the largest island of the Aeolian Islands (they are located north of Sicily, one hour by hydrofoil from Milazzo); Lipari, under the fascist dictatorship, was the seat of forced confinement for political opponents, it was considered "a Sicilian Alcatraz", among all the islands of confinement, Lipari was most likely the most liveable, both for its considerable size that favored the relations of the confined with the inhabitants, both because, to a greater extent than elsewhere, in Lipari, confined persons were allowed to live in private residences, together with their families or other companions. I found written: "Being on an island that belongs to another island means feeling doubly foreign, tied to the will of the gods and nature, where every certainty can be swept away by the waves of that sea that laps it in every intimate part, but it is a sensation that lasts for a few minutes, the Liparoti (the inhabitants of Lipari, ed) know it well (as all Sicilians know), the Greek concept of Xenia, hospitality, is inherent in them, a written rule, is a duty that provides sanctity and protection for the guest ".
Lipari has a long history as a place of detention. It is the island where the common criminals were initially confined, then with the law of November 6, 1926 (the twenty-year fascist period begins with the seizure of power by fascism and Mussolini, officially occurred on October 31, 1922), Lipari thus became the a place to isolate and confine opponents; the life of the confined began immediately after disembarkation, with lodging in the dormitories of the Castle, under the strict surveillance of the police and the fascist militia, every morning, the confined were subjected to the appeal and they received a daily pay of 10 lire; they could move freely in the town, without however exceeding the demarcation line that surrounded the inhabited center; walking was the main activity, the saddest and most melancholy ones pushed to the limit allowed, to see the ferries arrive from Milazzo, aware that the sea was guarded by motorboats armed with machine guns. A situation that will not prevent Nitti, Rosselli and Lussu from fleeing the island, on a moonless night, between 27 and 28 July 1929.
I made some photo-portraits of people I didn't know, I thank them very much for their sympathy and their availability; I tried to capture the essence of minimal photographic stories, collected walking along the streets of Lipari ... in search of fleeting moments ...I used a particular photographic technique for some photographs at the time of shooting, which in addition to capturing the surrounding space, also "inserted" a temporal dimension, with photos characterized by being moved because the exposure times were deliberately lengthened, they are confused -focused-imprecise-undecided ... the Anglo-Saxon term that encloses this photographic genre with a single word is "blur", these images were thus created during the shooting phase, and not as an effect created subsequently, in retrospect, in the post-production
La mia azienda sanitaria, ogni tre mesi, per tre giorni, mi manda a ricoprire una carenza di organico, nell’ospedale di Lipari, (e così anche i miei colleghi), nel poco tempo libero che mi resta a disposizione, mi dedico alla mia passione fotografica.
Lipari è l’isola più grande delle isole Eolie (si trovano a nord della Sicilia, ad un’ora di aliscafo da Milazzo); Lipari , sotto la dittatura fascista, fu sede di confino coatto per gli oppositori politici, essa era considerata “un’Alcatraz siciliana”, fra tutte le isole di confino, Lipari fu molto probabilmente quella più vivibile, sia per le sue notevoli dimensioni che favorivano i rapporti dei confinati con gli abitanti, sia perché, in misura maggiore che altrove, a Lipari veniva consentito ai confinati di abitare in residenze private, insieme ai propri familiari o ad altri compagni. Ho trovato scritto: “Trovarsi su un Isola che appartiene a un’altra Isola, vuol dire sentirsi doppiamente straniero, legato al volere degli dei e della natura, dove ogni certezza può essere spazzata via dalle onde di quel mare che la lambisce in ogni intima parte, ma è una sensazione che dura solo per qualche minuto, i Liparoti (gli abitanti di lipari, n.d.r.)lo sanno bene (come lo sanno tutti i siciliani), è connaturato in loro il concetto greco della Xenia, l'ospitalità, non è una norma scritta, è un atto dovuto che prevede sacralità e protezione per l’ospite”.
Lipari ha una lunga storia come luogo di detenzione. È l’isola dove all’inizio erano confinati i delinquenti comuni, poi con la legge del 6 novembre 1926 (il ventennio fascista inizia con la presa del potere del fascismo e di Mussolini, ufficialmente avvenuta il 31 ottobre 1922), Lipari divenne così il luogo dove isolare e confinare gli oppositori; la vita del confinato iniziava subito dopo lo sbarco, con l’alloggio nelle camerate del Castello, sotto la rigida sorveglianza della polizia e della milizia fascista, ogni mattina, i confinati erano sottoposti all’appello e alla consegna della "mazzetta", ossia la paga giornaliera di 10 lire; potevano circolare liberamente nel paese, senza però superare la linea di demarcazione che circondava il centro abitato; passeggiare era la principale attività, i più tristi e malinconici si spingevano fino al limite consentito per vedere arrivare i traghetti da Milazzo, consapevoli che il mare era sorvegliato da motoscafi armati di mitragliatrici. Situazione che non impedirà a Nitti, Rosselli e Lussu di fuggire dall’isola, in una notte senza luna, tra il 27 e il 28 luglio del 1929.
Ho realizzato dei foto-ritratti di persone che non conoscevo, le ringrazio veramente tanto per la loro simpatia e la loro disponibilità; ho cercato di cogliere al volo l’essenza di storie fotografiche minime, raccolte camminando per le strade di Lipari... alla ricerca di attimi fugaci s-fuggenti ...
Ho utilizzato per alcune fotografie una tecnica fotografica particolare al momento dello scatto, che oltre a catturare lo spazio circostante, ha "inserito" anche una dimensione temporale, con foto caratterizzate dall’essere mosse poiché volutamente sono stati allungati i tempi di esposizione, sono confuse-sfocate-imprecise-indecise...il termine anglosassone che racchiude con una sola parola questo genere fotografico è "blur", queste immagini sono state così realizzate in fase di scatto, e non come un effetto creato successivamente, a posteriori, in fase di post-produzione.
after all, who of us can really say with absolute certainty which is the greater reality?
that which we see and feel when we close our eyes and dream, or that which we act out daily, because that's what we're conditioned to .......
Would we want to live in a world where all was predetermined, where nothing was hidden, where the answers were handed to us at birth? I take the search and the mystery over certainty and the unknown with its myriad of possibilities over the already known. It is in the future where all adventures lie in wait.
A lone figure steps into the breath of a baroque colonnade, her gown a tapestry of gold-threaded vows and ancestral memory. Wind gathers her hair like a herald’s banner, carrying whispers from the distant spires rising through cloud and smoke. She stands poised between grandeur and storm, between the architecture of old empires and the quiet certainty of her own becoming. This portrait captures the moment a woman reclaims a world that once forgot her name—ascending not as a relic, but as a sovereign reborn.
“Where the Columns Remember Her”
I.
She walks where marble learns to breathe,
Where gold recalls what time would thieve.
Her gown becomes the dusk’s embrace,
A moving hymn of woven grace.
II.
The columns rise like ancient choirs,
Their voices carved in gilded spires.
They watch her pass with reverent eyes,
A pilgrim born of shifting skies.
III.
The wind unravels strands of fate,
A whispered oath the stones await.
She steps as though the world were hers,
A quiet storm that never stirs.
IV.
Behind her, clouds begin to turn,
A city dreaming as they burn.
Yet in her stance, a truth takes form—
A sovereign shaped by calm and storm.
V.
Her bodice holds the night in place,
Her sleeves are lanterns trimmed with lace.
She moves as though the past were light,
A tapestry of dark and bright.
VI.
The clock tower hums a distant vow,
A promise echoing through now.
She hears it in her steady breath,
A rhythm older than regret.
VII.
The arches bend to frame her stride,
A threshold where the worlds collide.
She carries histories untold,
A living script in black and gold.
VIII.
And when she reaches evening’s door,
The halls will know her steps once more.
For she returns not as she came—
But crowned in her remembered name.
With Dial-A-Bus/Chelston Leisure Services recent announcement that they will be ending all bus operation after the 1st April 2017 the certainty of many Torbay routes has been put in doubt. Sections of the 25 to Stoke Gabriel and the 67 will be being covered by a new route subsidized by Devon Country Council, how many of their other routes will be taken on by another operator, who knows. Time will tell in a few weeks from now.
For now we see one of 'DAB's' many Optare Solos, WK06HZZ, picking up on Broadpark's Broadley Drive with a Paignton bound 60 service.
Company: Dial-A-Bus of Paignton
Registration: WK06HZZ
New: 206
Chassis: Optare Solo M850
Bodywork: Optare B28F
Route: 60 (Torquay, Castle Circus-Paignton Bus Station)
History:
Location: Broadley Drive, Broadpark, Torquay
Exposure: 1/800 @ f6.3 200ISO
Date: 23 February 2017
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
- Maya Angelou
“When evening had come” Although I am not a catholic, the ceremony and the words of the Pope touched me deeply, more than a a lot of hilarious and selfish words of politicians and others in these horrible weeks...
So, I post the screenshots of this and an extract of the message of Pope Francis.
"Mk 4:35). The Gospel passage we have just heard begins like this. For weeks now it has been evening. Thick darkness has gathered over our squares, our streets and our cities; it has taken over our lives, filling everything with a deafening silence and a distressing void, that stops everything as it passes by; we feel it in the air, we notice in people’s gestures, their glances give them away. We find ourselves afraid and lost. Like the disciples in the Gospel we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm. We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other. On this boat… are all of us. Just like those disciples, who spoke anxiously with one voice, saying “We are perishing” (v. 38), so we too have realized that we cannot go on thinking of ourselves, but only together can we do this.
The storm exposes our vulnerability and uncovers those false and superfluous certainties around which we have constructed our daily schedules, our projects, our habits and priorities. It shows us how we have allowed to become dull and feeble the very things that nourish, sustain and strengthen our lives and our communities. The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls; all those attempts that anesthetize us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity.
In this storm, the façade of those stereotypes with which we camouflaged our egos, always worrying about our image, has fallen away, uncovering once more that (blessed) common belonging, of which we cannot be deprived: our belonging as brothers and sisters.
“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, your word this evening strikes us and regards us, all of us. In this world, that you love more than we do, we have gone ahead at breakneck speed, feeling powerful and able to do anything. Greedy for profit, we let ourselves get caught up in things, and lured away by haste. We did not stop at your reproach to us, we were not shaken awake by wars or injustice across the world, nor did we listen to the cry of the poor or of our ailing planet. We carried on regardless, thinking we would stay healthy in a world that was sick. Now that we are in a stormy sea, we implore you: “Wake up, Lord!”…
You are calling on us to seize this time of trial as a time of choosing. It is not the time of your judgement, but of our judgement: a time to choose what matters and what passes away, a time to separate what is necessary from what is not. It is a time to get our lives back on track with regard to you, Lord, and to others. We can look to so many exemplary companions for the journey, who, even though fearful, have reacted by giving their lives. This is the force of the Spirit poured out and fashioned in courageous and generous self-denial. It is the life in the Spirit that can redeem, value and demonstrate how our lives are woven together and sustained by ordinary people – often forgotten people – who do not appear in newspaper and magazine headlines nor on the grand catwalks of the latest show, but who without any doubt are in these very days writing the decisive events of our time: doctors, nurses, supermarket employees, cleaners, caregivers, providers of transport, law and order forces, volunteers, priests, religious men and women and so very many others who have understood that no one reaches salvation by themselves. … How many people every day are exercising patience and offering hope, taking care to sow not panic but a shared responsibility. How many fathers, mothers, grandparents and teachers are showing our children, in small everyday gestures, how to face up to and navigate a crisis by adjusting their routines, lifting their gaze and fostering prayer. How many are praying, offering and interceding for the good of all. Prayer and quiet service: these are our victorious weapons….
“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith”? Faith begins when we realise we are in need of salvation. We are not self-sufficient; by ourselves we founder: we need the Lord, like ancient navigators needed the stars. Let us invite Jesus into the boats of our lives. Let us hand over our fears to him so that he can conquer them. Like the disciples, we will experience that with him on board there will be no shipwreck. Because this is God’s strength: turning to the good everything that happens to us, even the bad things. He brings serenity into our storms, because with God life never dies….
The Lord asks us and, in the midst of our tempest, invites us to reawaken and put into practice that solidarity and hope capable of giving strength, support and meaning to these hours when everything seems to be floundering. The Lord awakens so as to reawaken and revive our Easter faith….
Embracing his cross means finding the courage to embrace all the hardships of the present time, abandoning for a moment our eagerness for power and possessions in order to make room for the creativity that only the Spirit is capable of inspiring. It means finding the courage to create spaces where everyone can recognize that they are called, and to allow new forms of hospitality, fraternity and solidarity."
www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2020/documen...
“When evening had come” Although I am not a catholic, the ceremony and the words of the Pope touched me deeply, more than a a lot of hilarious and selfish words of politicians and others in these horrible weeks...
So, I post the screenshots of this and an extract of the message of Pope Francis.
"Mk 4:35). The Gospel passage we have just heard begins like this. For weeks now it has been evening. Thick darkness has gathered over our squares, our streets and our cities; it has taken over our lives, filling everything with a deafening silence and a distressing void, that stops everything as it passes by; we feel it in the air, we notice in people’s gestures, their glances give them away. We find ourselves afraid and lost. Like the disciples in the Gospel we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm. We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other. On this boat… are all of us. Just like those disciples, who spoke anxiously with one voice, saying “We are perishing” (v. 38), so we too have realized that we cannot go on thinking of ourselves, but only together can we do this.
The storm exposes our vulnerability and uncovers those false and superfluous certainties around which we have constructed our daily schedules, our projects, our habits and priorities. It shows us how we have allowed to become dull and feeble the very things that nourish, sustain and strengthen our lives and our communities. The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls; all those attempts that anesthetize us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity.
In this storm, the façade of those stereotypes with which we camouflaged our egos, always worrying about our image, has fallen away, uncovering once more that (blessed) common belonging, of which we cannot be deprived: our belonging as brothers and sisters.
“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, your word this evening strikes us and regards us, all of us. In this world, that you love more than we do, we have gone ahead at breakneck speed, feeling powerful and able to do anything. Greedy for profit, we let ourselves get caught up in things, and lured away by haste. We did not stop at your reproach to us, we were not shaken awake by wars or injustice across the world, nor did we listen to the cry of the poor or of our ailing planet. We carried on regardless, thinking we would stay healthy in a world that was sick. Now that we are in a stormy sea, we implore you: “Wake up, Lord!”…
You are calling on us to seize this time of trial as a time of choosing. It is not the time of your judgement, but of our judgement: a time to choose what matters and what passes away, a time to separate what is necessary from what is not. It is a time to get our lives back on track with regard to you, Lord, and to others. We can look to so many exemplary companions for the journey, who, even though fearful, have reacted by giving their lives. This is the force of the Spirit poured out and fashioned in courageous and generous self-denial. It is the life in the Spirit that can redeem, value and demonstrate how our lives are woven together and sustained by ordinary people – often forgotten people – who do not appear in newspaper and magazine headlines nor on the grand catwalks of the latest show, but who without any doubt are in these very days writing the decisive events of our time: doctors, nurses, supermarket employees, cleaners, caregivers, providers of transport, law and order forces, volunteers, priests, religious men and women and so very many others who have understood that no one reaches salvation by themselves. … How many people every day are exercising patience and offering hope, taking care to sow not panic but a shared responsibility. How many fathers, mothers, grandparents and teachers are showing our children, in small everyday gestures, how to face up to and navigate a crisis by adjusting their routines, lifting their gaze and fostering prayer. How many are praying, offering and interceding for the good of all. Prayer and quiet service: these are our victorious weapons….
“Why are you afraid? Have you no faith”? Faith begins when we realise we are in need of salvation. We are not self-sufficient; by ourselves we founder: we need the Lord, like ancient navigators needed the stars. Let us invite Jesus into the boats of our lives. Let us hand over our fears to him so that he can conquer them. Like the disciples, we will experience that with him on board there will be no shipwreck. Because this is God’s strength: turning to the good everything that happens to us, even the bad things. He brings serenity into our storms, because with God life never dies….
The Lord asks us and, in the midst of our tempest, invites us to reawaken and put into practice that solidarity and hope capable of giving strength, support and meaning to these hours when everything seems to be floundering. The Lord awakens so as to reawaken and revive our Easter faith….
Embracing his cross means finding the courage to embrace all the hardships of the present time, abandoning for a moment our eagerness for power and possessions in order to make room for the creativity that only the Spirit is capable of inspiring. It means finding the courage to create spaces where everyone can recognize that they are called, and to allow new forms of hospitality, fraternity and solidarity."
www.vatican.va/content/francesco/en/homilies/2020/documen...
The location of Stirling Bridge at the date of the battle is not known with certainty, but four stone piers have been found underwater just north and at an angle to the extant 15th century bridge, along with man-made stonework on one bank in line with the piers.
Do not use any of my images without permission.
Geometry has deserted this place, leaving behind only
a wounded articulation of angles; a skeleton of purpose.
The bridge leans into the abyss
like a pilgrim who no longer believes in dawn.
Shards of engineered certainty
drift in the wet air, searching for the blueprint
that once justified their existence.
And there, where the darkness condenses,
a form emerges; impossible, deliberate, a renegade of symmetry
blooming from the marrow of the void.
Photo circa late 1990s or early 2000s. This is my friend Al, one of the regular customers at Terry’s Camera in Long Beach, now closed. I don’t recall with certainty whether his name was short for ‘Albert,’ ‘Alvin,’ or ‘Alan,” we just knew him as ‘Al.’ Al worked for the Long Beach (California) Police Department in their crime scene evidence gathering department. He’s the one who told me years ago that latent fingerprints on non-porous surfaces can be enhanced by subjecting them to a vapor of cyanoacrylate, a.k.a. ‘Super Glue’ or ‘Krazy Glue’.
Al would usually come in near closing time at Terry’s Camera. One of the fun things I remember about being there when Al came into the store is that he and I would play a friendly game of who could get more Peanut M&M candy pieces out of one quarter (25 cent coin) from a freestanding gumball-like machine near the back door. One attempt per day is how we played it. The machine usually yielded 9 or 10 M&M candy pieces but Al holds the all-time record of getting a handful of 14 pieces from one turn! It was a record never again equaled by either of us.
Al was also the proprietor of a business that took fingerprints for official identification purposes and offered photography and notary services, too. I believe that the business still exists in downtown Long Beach because Yelp reviews appear for it, most of them at the 5-star level! And several mention the friendly service and the helpfulness of the proprietor there which describes the Al I knew!
"SALAM MAULIDUR RASUL"
Hayati kehebatan & keunggulan pemimpin agung sepanjang zaman ini!"
اللهم صل على سيدنا محمد وعلى آله وصحبه أجمعين
Al-Quran | Ar-Ra'd | Ayat 2:
"Allah is He who raised the heavens without any pillars that ye can see; is firmly established on the Throne (of authority); He has subjected the sun and the moon (to His Law)! Each one runs (its course) for a term appointed. He doth regulate all affairs, explaining the Signs In detail, that ye may believe with certainty In the meeting with your Lord."
"Allah jualah yang menjadikan langit terangkat tinggi dengan tiada bertiang sebagaimana yang kamu melihatnya, kemudian Ia bersemayam di atas Arasy; dan Ia memudahkan matahari dan bulan (untuk faedah makhluk-makhlukNya) tiap-tiap satu dari keduanya beredar untuk suatu masa yang telah ditetapkan. Allah jualah yang mentadbirkan segala urusan; ia menerangkan tanda-tanda kekuasaannya satu-persatu, supaya kamu yakin kepada pertemuan Tuhan kamu (untuk menerima balasan)."
About The Shot | Sunrise at Kg. Nakhoda, Gombak.
This was captured during my outing with Buyie and KLNO Group to Taman Rimba Ampang. Shot moment ni ketika dalam perjalanan nak bertemu dengan sahabat2 KLNO Group di Ampang.
Location, Date & Time:
Kg. Nakhoda, Gombak | 7 February 2010 | 7:23am (+8GMT)
Canon EOS 500D + Kitlens:
EXIF here!
Photoshop CS4:
- Only level adjustment.
- As usual; watermark and framing editing!
You:
I really appreciate your kind visit and support =)
All comments, criticism and tips for improvements are welcome.
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The Netherlands - Velsen
Geoglossum is a genus of fungi commonly called Earth tongues (Geoglossum sp. - Aardtong). The fruit bodies of Geoglossum species are usually club-shaped, with a surface that is dry to sticky or gelatinous (particular in wet weather), and brown to black. The spore-bearing surface is confined to the upper club-shaped part of the fruit body. The specimen on the image is probably an atypical one. Several species of Earth tongue are considered to be of conservation significance and many species are found on Regional Red Lists of several European countries. They are common components of the endangered waxcap (wasplaten) grassland habitat in Europe. Earth tongues can be determined with certainty by examining the spores microscopic. © Tom Kisjes
Hungary's 6-3 victory at Wembley 60 years ago resonates like no other in the history of English football. It wasn't just that this was a first home defeat to non-British or Irish opposition, the magnitude of the scoreline or the brilliance of the Hungarian display: it was the sense of shock. Over the course of one game – one hour even, given Hungary pretty much eased off in the final third – the complacency and the insularity of the English game were exposed. After 25 November 1953, none of the old certainties were certain any more.
Início da Série Com que roupa?
De A a Z. 26 meninas vão mostrar suas dúvidas ou certezas na hora de escolher suas roupas!
Serie With that clothes?
A to Z. 26 girls will show their doubts or certainties in choosing your clothes!
Scientific Name: Geastrum
Common Name: Earthstar
Certainty: sure of genus (notes)
Location: Florida Keys; Buttonwood Bay
Date: 20071226