“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, Flaubert's Parrot

Thanks a lot for your visits, comments, awards and faves, my friends. Happy last day of November to all...!

Best seen on black - press L or click on image above.

Luminous mind, bright devil

of absolute clusterings, of upright noon---:

here we are at last, alone, without loneliness,

far from the savage city's delirium.

Just as a pure line describes the dove's curve,

as the fire honors and nourishes peace,

so you and I made this heavenly outcome.

The mind and love live naked in this house.

Furious dreams, rivers of bitter certainty,

decisions harder than the dreams of a hammer

flowed into the lovers' double cup,

until those twins were lifted into balance

on the scale: the mind and love, like two wings.

---So this transparency was built.

Pablo Neruda

Tonight's sunset in good ol' Indy Town.

[polski opis poniżej]

"Pegas" 752.043 at the head and "bardot" 751.171 at the back of the local freight train here called "manipulačný vlak" or simply "manipulák", number 82250 to Lubeník, before departure from Plešivec.

Two pairs of local freight trains Plešivec - Lubeník every workday is almost a certainty here.

In Lubeník and the vicinity of the station, there are two magnesium mines - SLOVMAG and SMZ Tepla Voda - which send a couple of loaded wagons each day. Surprisingly, block trains are quite rare - it happened to us only once during a week (and the pictures of this train will surely appear here someday), and even the block train was departed as local freight to Plešivec, not as additional one.

Apart of individual typical self-discharging Faccs wagons and their covered version - Uaddgs, some "rag cars" S-class for steel in coils, one can spot mysterious loads in containers to Lubeník in local freight trains. Besides, the morning train takes the shunting locomotive of 742 class from the Plešivec locomotive depot to Lubeník, which works all day at SLOVMAG siding. So even if there is no need to run the afternoon train from Plešivec to Lubeník, the shunting loco must always go back light or with some wagons.

In the photo from July 30, 2021, the morning local freight to Lubeník, yet before attaching 742-class shunter at rear. Actually there's one loco at the rear, which together with the leading loco will take the heavy block train back to Plešivec later.

Photo by Jarek / Chester

Pegas 752.043 na czele oraz bardotka 751.171 na tyle pociągu zdawczego, nazywanego tutaj "manipulačnim vlakem" lub prościej "manipulakiem", numer 82250 do Lubeníka, przed odjazdem z Plešivca - stacji początkowej.

Dwie pary zdawczych Plešivec - Lubeník każdego dnia roboczego, to niemal pewniak w tej okolicy. Chodzące w poniedziałki, środy i piątki zdawcze do Vlachowa, Dobšiny, czy Slavošovców to loteria i nierzadko po prostu nie ma potrzeby ich uruchamiania. Ale na dwie pary dziennie do Lubeníka można wybierać się w ciemno - zawsze jeżdżą. W najgorszym razie poranny pociąg wróci luźną lokomotywą oraz nie pojedzie pociąg popołudniowy "tam", ale wrócić wieczorem - już zawsze wróci. Formalnie manipulaki jeździć mogą do Revucy, a nawet końca linii - stacji Muráň, ale dalej niż do Lubeníka zapuszczają się niezmiernie rzadko (na odcinku Revuca - Muráň tory wyglądają na wybitnie niejeżdżone).

W Lubeníku i okolicach stacji pracują dwie kopalnie magnezytu - SLOVMAG oraz SMZ Tepla Voda - które codziennie parę wagonów nadają i odbierają. O dziwo zwartych wahadeł stamtąd nie zobaczymy codziennie - nam zdarzyło się to raz w całym tygodniu (a zdjęcia z tego pociągu pewnikiem tu kiedyś trafią), a i tak jechało ono właśnie jako zdawczy powrotny, a nie dodatkowy pociąg.

Oprócz typowych samowyładowczych wagonów Faccs oraz ich wersji krytej - Uaddgs, do Lubeníka jeżdżą "szmaciaki" z blachą serii S oraz tajemnicze ładunki w kontenerach. Poza tym, poranny pociąg zabiera z plešiveckiej lokomotywowni do Lubeníka manewrówkę serii 742 (kocur), która cały dzień pracuje na bocznicy SLOVMAGu. A więc nawet jeśli nie ma potrzeby uruchamiania popołudniowego pociągu z Plešivca do Lubeníka, to już powrót i tak się odbywa samotną 742, luzem, lub z wagonami zwracanymi stamtąd.

Na tym zdjęciu z 30 lipca 2021 roku, jeszcze przed podpięciem do składu lokomotywy 742 na końcu, ostatnią lokomotywą jest 751.171, która razem z maszyną prowadzącą wezmą 21. wagonowy skład do Niemiec w planie powrotnego porannego manipulaka.

Fot. Jarek / Chester

Photographs taken in occupied Germany in the years 1946 - 48 buy either a British or American staff photographer. This set may have not been part of the official record, as some of the girls don't seem to be wearing a lot of clothes.

The tonality of this set is different from the other ones, so there is no certainty that the two sets were taken by the same photographer. Alas, no girls with clothing falling off or absent in those others.

This was in the cloisters.

Turning Point by Philip Booth

Wood, Aluminium, Stainless Steel, Perspex, Brass. Acrylics, Oils and Spray Paint

This work centres on a pillar or tower, surrounded by a wide helical movement of lighter, dynamic shapes that, though quite abstract, evoke the flight of birds, alluding to a sense of liberation or new beginning. As columns play a central physical and aesthetic role in the cathedral so this central structure is our touchstone, a metaphor for support and certainty in many forms.

The heavy snowfall of a few days ago did not last all that long,

but it lasted long enough for me to notice it while passing by a living room window. This abstracted capture is a photograph intended more for the imagination than the eyes. The heavy snow, variations of green in the background (suggesting a pine

woods), and the trunks of trees with just enough definition and focus that you can't mistake them for something else substitute

for the usual visual certainty. It might not be a photo for everyone, and that's fine, but it definitely conveyed and expressed the feeling of the wintry elements to me, if not the

details. Something a little different spices the dish nicely at times I've always thought. This one definitely not too hot.

© James M Thorne

The image does not advance.

It waits.

Not in stillness,

but in a charged delay

where time folds back onto its own shadow.

The interval between intention and collapse,

where the gesture is suspended

like a blade held above its own origin.

This path is not a passage.

It is a recursion.

The forest does not surround the form; it remembers it.

Each tree is an archive of abandoned visions,

each step a subtraction from certainty.

Light here is not revelation.

It is residue.

A technical ghost,

orbiting what no longer consents to be named.

The sphere fractures without breaking,

rotates without destination,

a mytho-mechanical relic

designed to measure hesitation itself.

This is not creation.

It is the maintenance of fracture.

The ritual demands withdrawal.

The system demands silence.

The eye must unlearn its own efficiency.

In this interregnum,

style decays,

signature corrodes,

and authorship becomes unstable matter.

When the image returns; if it returns; it will not recognize

the hand that summoned it.

Arthur W. G. Kingsbury 1906-1968.

South Hinksey Oxfordshire 2020

CASE OF FALSIFIED MINERAL LOCALITIES

Mineral specimens that have lost their labels are a curator’s bane. Once lost, the locality cannot be determined with certainty by subsequent examination. Worse than no locality is a wrong locality attached to a specimen, usually through carelessness or ignorance. Sometimes, however, a false locality is added deliberately, to enhance the specimen’s value. It is a simple deception to perpetrate, and Arthur W.G. Kingsbury (1906-1968) did it on a grand scale! In the late 1940s Arthur Kingsbury was already a respected amateur collector, a member of the Mineralogical Society with published work on the minerals of the Mendips, and a friend of Sir Arthur Russell. Abandoning his former career as a solicitor, and his wartime occupation managing a precision engineering works, he became a research assistant to the Reader in Mineralogy at Oxford, to work on the mineral collections in the University Museum. He was well qualified for this – there is no doubting either his sharp eye for and encyclopaedic knowledge of minerals, and their world-wide localities, associates and matrices, or the uncanny accuracy of his “eyeball” identifications.

At this time he started sending specimens to Leeds University for checking by X-ray diffraction (at the rate of up to 300 a year!). Many of them were microscopic secondary minerals from the metalliferous deposits in Cornwall, Devon, and the Lake District, in which he specialised. This led, eventually, to the identification of over 60 species new to Britain, many of them rare; to many publications; and to the award of the Bolitho medal of the Royal Geological Society of Cornwall and other honours. He came to be regarded as second only to Sir Arthur Russell as an expert on British minerals. Perhaps second best was not good enough. Perhaps he was embittered by the disdain of some of the academics he encountered. For whatever motives, in the early 1950s he began to pass off specimens from foreign localities (quite often classic material from old collections) as having been collected by him from British localities. He had their identities checked by unsuspecting X-ray experts, and the claimed discoveries were never doubted during his life-time. Serious misgivings were first voiced in the 1980s.

Kingsbury donated hundreds of specimens to The Natural History Museum, and many to Sir Arthur Russell, whose collection is now also in the NHM. His entire private collection, with maps and notes, was acquired by the NHM after his death. A systematic re-examination of this huge amount of material is now under way to pick out the dubious specimens. Initially, we chose eight examples for detailed study, to convince ourselves that their localities were indeed deliberately falsified. Hundreds more specimens have since been marked as suspicious and are being studied. Many are so obviously wrong that it is amazing the deception was not spotted at the time!

George Ryback

BRITISH MICROMOUNT SOCIETY

NEWSLETTER NO. 52 FEBRUARY 1999.

Not sure of the genus (or even family) of this insect. As far as I can tell with low certainty, it is a wasp from the Tiphiidae family. Approx. 15mm in length

Picture a slightly bent oval with a perimeter of 1 3/4 miles. That would be Cedar Lake. Around the lake, 6-8 feet from the water in most places is the nature trail / bike path.

At the NW end, though, it is different. Between the lake and the trail there is the 'wetlands / swamp area'.

On the other side of the trail on that end is a stand of woods, fairly deep, bordered on the far end by a chain link fence surrounding the area utility company warehouse. These woods are pretty dense. Deer have little trouble being concealed in there.

When Judy and I went to the lake to photograph a few days ago, when we got to this point I stopped and pointed out two deer to her...as far back from the path as they could be...and mostly obscured by the trees and underbrush.

I imagine that most of the people walking, jogging or biking never spotted the two deer.

I took plenty of shots, but could not get a single one where one or the other deer was not obstructed by trees, etc. This was one of the better photos of the larger of the two deer. I would guess doe with yearling, but not with certainty.

This will be my second animal in the 150 species challenge.

Animal #2 Total photos - 5

I don't have a center, I have no certainties,

I have no balance, I don't know how to defend myself,

I only have the strength that comes from all that which I survived.

(Daria Bignardi)

Matt Berninger - Walking on a string ( feat . Phoebe Bridgers)

youtu.be/9a17sJFSSds?si=LW0N4dLNCuvKIeeD

Hoffnung ist nicht die Überzeugung, dass etwas gut ausgeht,

sondern die Gewißheit, dass etwas einen Sinn hat, egal wie es ausgeht.

Vaclav Havel

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Vaclav Havel

Still I Rise

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 back yard.

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

I rise.

- maya angelou

belle villa

Chiangmai, Thailand

It’s been a long time since I posted, and each time I return to photography I find something has changed. An old certainty or preference no longer holds true. This is once again the case.

We are at Tumbley Hill - a place I had long known from maps and which had even entered my private mythology, but where I had never actually been except in imagination. That was until the last days of October. I have never felt so immediately at home in a landscape. The first day’s visit brought a hare bounding up to me. The second a red deer. The third brought this picture.

There are two interesting things about the latter. Firstly it was taken with a Zuiko 28mm f2.8 lens. This seems to me easily the weakest of the Olympus lenses I have used and I have never liked the 28mm focal length. And yet since the Spring it has consistently delivered exactly the images I wanted.

The second enigma is that this picture was made on Kentmere 400 film. I tried a roll some years ago and thought it was absolutely terrible. That may have been because I was shooting with the Minolta AF 28-80 “panda” - an execrable kit lens that Halina would have baulked at. Yet I was in the bowels of my post-Leica nihilism and confirmatory rubbish was exactly what I wanted.

Well... That was then. This is now. Kentmere is doubtless exactly the same, but happily I am not. I have never had better negatives. Only the most minimal adjustment and spotting was needed. The film has a very distinctive, almost painterly look. The tones are superb and definition more than adequate. It has something of the curious subtlety of Lucky 400 - another film I began by disliking but finally came to love. This is not a cheap substitute for something good: It is a seriously interesting film - just look at the picture large :) I now have a big stack of Kentmere in the cupboard :)

There are more pictures coming in the following days :)

Tumbley Hill, near West Acre, Norfolk. Olympus OM2n, Zuiko 28mm f2.8. f4@1/125th, Kentmere 400, Orange Filter.

1933 and 2016 are not so far apart. People wounded in their soul, damaged in their honour, hit in their pocket, but craving the kind of dreams and certainties that have been unrelentingly dissolved, are determined to go for immediate change. Their wishes may be fulfilled in ways they themselves had not expected and others might justifiably fear.

Quay didn't think that mere days after he ¨successfully¨ completed his latest job, reconnected with an old friend from his past, and even got a Lightsaber from a Jedi he met, he would be running through the depths of Coruscant being chased by the Empire. As a child, the parents of Quay used to tell him stories about what lies in the depths of the planet. Back then, he didn't believe them, but now he is starting to think that there was some truth in their stories. While the top of the planet was filled with skyscrapers, the lower you would go inside the planet the more dirty and crime-invested it would become. Even right after the death of his parents, when he had to find a new home in the lower levels of the planet, he never went much further down than level 1500. He didn't know at what exact level he was at that moment; During his chase by the Empire he didn't feel the need to pay attention to where he was at that moment. He could say for certain that he was already below level 1313; He had paid a short visit to that exact level once in his life, and not for good reasons. A quick look around already gave away that it was much more polluted and crime-invested than the already poor living conditions of that level.

The chase started about an hour ago. Quay had packed his stuff so he would be able to leave right when he got his credits, and while waiting for that to happen he was talking with Terras Gratt, the friendly owner of the cantina that was located right below the apartment Quay stayed at for a few days. Suddenly, a few Stormtroopers made their way through the lots of people who were trying to enjoy a drink there. Since at this exact place a few days ago dozens of troopers died, they were investigating this place to see if there was anything of interest here. They explained to him, not knowing that he was there that night, that apparently a couple of people wielding Lightsabers and using the Force caused chaos at this location. The troopers showed Gratt a recording of the night it happened, and Quay was noticeably present in these recordings. Luckily, the footage of when Quay used a Lightsaber was apparently lost, which could have gotten him in way more trouble than he already had. Although Gratt denied knowing anything about who was behind the attack for the sake of keeping Quay out of the trouble, the troopers quickly noticed the similarities between the person on the recording and the person enjoying a drink right next to them. They pointed their weapons at Quay and demanded that he would surrender himself, but miraculously a customer bumped into the two, creating some minor mayhem. Quay took advantage of the confusion by quickly sprinting out of the cantina, and making sure he would be well ahead of the troopers by the time they would come out of there.

Out of options, Quay grabbed the old and rusty speeder that had been standing outside the cantina, and tried to use that to escape. At first, it seemed like the speeder did not work anymore, but after a few tries he miraculously made it work again. Just as the Stormtroopers made it out of the cantina, Quay raced away on the speeder. His luck didn't last long; Shortly after he made it away from the cantina, a Republic Police Gunship, that were now being used by the Empire, started to give chase. Quay managed to dodge most of the blaster fire from the ship, but one of the blaster bolts hit the speeder pretty badly. Although it wouldn't be a direct problem, he could not keep on driving with this thing if he wanted to stay alive. He did see a possible way to make it out in one piece right in front of him; a big Underworld Portal, leading right into the core of the planet. He made the speeder go as fast as possible, and he raced into the gateway. Despite this manoeuvre, the Gunship did not give up its chase. Since the engine of the speeder kept having more trouble keeping it up and running with each second, Quay tried to turn the engine off for a short period of time, which meant he would be making a freefall during his descent into the planet. Although he hated the feeling of falling for a long period of time, he had no other considerable choice. But if he was right, if he would turn the engine on again when he neared an approachable landing spot, he would be able to land without dying due to the big fall. After falling for a short while and having dropped thousands of levels below the surface of the planet, Quay finally saw an approachable landing spot; An landing pad, on which an Republic Gunship could easily fit, was located right below him. Only having a short time to turn the engine back on, he immediately tried to do that, but the engine did not get running again. Quay had to think of something fast; dying due to the impact of a big fall was not the way he would like to pass away. He desperately tried to get the engine up and running again, and at the last moment the engine started again, slowing the speeder down just enough to survive the landing. Unfortunately, this didn't mean that Quay would survive the crash without any injuries; The speeder crashed down on the landing pad with still quite some speed, and Quay got launched off the vehicle when it landed and hit the ground of the landing pad with full force. While the completely wrecked speeder rolled over the edge, Quay managed to hit a wall, preventing a similar fate. He felt blood flowing out of his nose and noticed that some of his bones had definitely broken, but it was not anything that would require immediate medical attention. For now, he had survived it, but the Empire did not give up its chase. The police ship stopped at the edge of the landing pad, and at least half a dozen Stormtroopers jumped out of the ship. Quay forced himself to stand up although he felt pain in his body everywhere, and made a run for it once again.

After finally finding a safe spot to rest out for a short while, Quay sitted down and stopped to take a look at how badly he got hurt from the crash. He found a shard of reflective glass he could use to take a look at his face. He immediately noticed the black eye he got, and a flow of dried blood below his nose. He rolled up the sleeves of his jacket, and saw that at least some of the bones had visibly broken. He could say with certainty that he would not die from these injuries, at least not before the Empire would get their hands on him. He took a small Stimpak out of his pockets, and injected himself with some painkillers. Those would keep Quay fit enough to hopefully escape this planet and find some medical help. He stood up again, and took a look out of the window to see if there was any immediate danger in his surroundings. The area he was in was abandoned with the exception of a homeless person sitting by a fireplace made out of an astromech droid on the street. He didn't hear any Stormtroopers or Imperials screaming orders at each other either, so he assumed he would be safe for another while. He turned around, and took his Lightsaber out of his pocket to take a quick look at it. Quay ignited the saber, and took a moment to admire the beauty of the purple saber. The hilt of the Lightsaber was carefully designed by Quay, and it featured removable plating made from Neuranium metals. The saber featured parts of the Lightsaber Shaella Xalrich, a Jedi he met days ago used to own, as well as parts of the Lightsaber her master owned. He brought some metals from a local scrap dealer, and also found some other materials he could use on a scrapyard not far from the place Quay stayed at for a while. Just like any other Lightsaber, Quay had spent hours customizing it to his liking. Since him carrying around an object that was obviously a Lightsaber could get him arrested, he made sure that he could make it look like a normal mechanical object instead of a Lightsaber within seconds, and vice versa.

Quay was quickly reminded of the situation he was in when some people on the street screamed out loud and begged for mercy. He took a look out of the window, and saw an Imperial officer together with an Stormtrooper and another Imperialist assaulting the homeless person on the street below him. The officer kicked the homeless person on the ground, and pointed his blaster at his face. Quay tried to hear what the officer was saying, but the officer pulled a small speaker out of his uniform before he said anything.

"Quay Sta'nn.'' The officer said, with a voice Quay vaguely recognized. ''You are currently wanted for aiding Red Hand criminals in their raid on the Data Vault on this planet, and with that also assisted an Force User in her escape off this planet. We know you are near this location, so if you don't give yourself up within 5 minutes, I will execute this person and maybe even some more. Trying to escape will be useless; I have brought an Inquisitor with me, who is ready to catch you within minutes if you try to escape.''

Quay quickly put his Lightsaber in his jacket, and went over all of the options he had. Quay had heard rumors of the Inquisitors, Dark-Side users made specifically to hunt down Jedi, but he never thought those were real. Quay could try to make it a shootout, but he assumed that as soon as he did that reinforcements would arrive. Despite that. he was not willing to give himself up without a fight, so he estimated that trying to run away would be his best option. Even though the officer said trying to escape was useless, all of the other options he had were cowardly or downright stupid to attempt. Quay stood up, and prepared himself for a long run from the Empire once more. He walked towards the ladder he used to enter the place he had rested at for a short while, and as soon as he stood on the roof he started to run. As he passed a G0NK droid and a homeless person on the roof, he saw a thin, metal bridge he could use for his escape. Although it did not look sturdy at all, and it was located right above the street the officer was at, he did not see any other option to run to. He jumped on the bridge, but just as he was halfway across and got spotted by one of the Imperials, the walkway collapsed. Quay tried to make it to the other side, but he made a great fall to the ground before he could do so. He landed on the hard ground of the street, and an unnerving sound implied that his leg had broken due to the fall. Despite this, Quay still managed to take a run away from the Imperials, and even managed to hit the Stormtrooper with his blaster. He felt that the odds of survival were very low for him, especially now that his broken leg made it impossible to properly run anymore. He still tried to stay ahead of the Imperials. After another short while, Quay got the impression that despite his broken leg he managed to outrun the Imperials once more. He limped into a dark alleyway, and tried to catch his breath. He thought he was safe for a second, but the sudden sound of metal boots walking towards him and the dark alleyway abruptly being lightened up by a red light said otherwise.

''Going somewhere, Quay?'' The Inquisitor said. She wielded a red Lightsaber, wore an all-black outfit with red accents, and her voice was distorted by a voice scrambler, presumably built into her helmet. Quay gathered the last of his remaining energy to escape, but it was of no use. As soon as he turned around and ran a couple of meters away, Quay was suddenly unable to move any further. As the Inquisitor slowly walked towards him while saying something into her comm system, Quay remembered something the Jedi he met a couple of days told him about. While she was telling him about Force abilities, she mentioned an ability certain Jedi could use that could temporarily leave their opponents immobile for seconds, and sometimes even minutes. By the time he was able to move again, he was surrounded by Stormtroopers and the one officer who was threatening to execute an homeless person minutes before. Although he wanted to resist his arrest, he simply did not have any energy left to really do anything. Quay was given an electric shock, handcuffed, and dragged into an Imperial prison ship since he could barely stand on his own legs anymore. He was thrown into a holding cell on the ship, and passed out as soon as he hit the hard, metal floor.

Quite some time later, Quay was woken up by the ship heavily shaking. As he slowly regained consciousness, his hands went over his jacket to feel if he still had his Lightsaber. He sighed with relief when he felt the metal object sitting safely in his pocket, and was surprised that the Empire did not search him in any way yet. Quay tried to stand up, but quickly realised that the chase through the depths of Coruscant took a heavy toll on him. His whole body hurted like hell, he had a massive headache, and he was barely able to properly move. Quay took a look around his cell and outside of the cell, and the first thing he noticed were the excessive amount of Stormtroopers walking around the fairly small ship. He estimated that there were about 60 cells on the ship, all holding one or two prisoners. Every prisoner who tried to scream for help was quickly electrocuted to make them shut up. Seeing Quay's bad shape, he decided that doing that would most likely kill him. As he did his best to sit up, he suddenly noticed someone familiar walking by his cell. Although he almost didn't recognize him due to him wearing an Imperial uniform, Tyree Somer, an old friend who he last saw after they completed a job on Vandor together, was walking through the halls of the prison. Quay tapped on the metal floor to get his attention, and Tyree soon noticed his old friend laying on the floor of the prison cell. Like Quay, he was surprised to find an old friend in a place like this.

''Quay? What are you doing here?'' Tyree asked him.

''I could ask the same to you. Why are you wearing that Imperial uniform?'' Quay said.

''Kind of a long story. After that job on Vandor, I crashed on a nearby planet after we found ourselves a couple of working starfighters. Without credits or food, I did not have any other option except to join the Empire. I've been here for some time now. And how did you get here?''

''Not too difficult to explain. The empire wasn't too happy that I aided in the vault raid on Coruscant a couple of days ago. Long story short; They chased me through the depths of the planet for about an hour, leading in me breaking a lot of bones in my body, being unable to stand on my own, and ending up here.''

While the two were having a chat, two Stormtroopers walked towards them.

''Out of the way. The Admiral wants to see Prisoner 0701.'' one of them said.

''What a coincidence; i was just about to transport him to the Admiral!'' Tyree said nervously. ''I got a message on the comm system they wanted him to room 2006, right? I'm able to take him there on my own.''

''No, no, we got orders from the Admiral himself to take him there. Out of the way, now.''

''Quay, I am so very sorry for this. I'll make sure to be there when you reach room 2006, since it always takes a while before someone can enter there.'' Tyree whispered.

Quay nodded, while the two Stormtroopers unlocked the prison door and dragged him to stand up. After a short walk, they made it to room 2006. As promised, Tyree was there waiting for him. The Strormtroopers put Quay on a seat, and after that they walked away.

''Hey, what is this room made for, if i may ask?'' Quay said.

''Its...its a torture chamber.'' Tyree stuttered. ''Made specifically to question people. I've never been inside that room myself, but people have told me that they use Inquisitors to extract information, in combination with torture droids and other devices that can give somebody a lot of pain.''

Quay suddenly remembered that he was still holding his Lightsaber in his pocket. Since Lightsabers were now outlawed by the Empire, chances are high he would be executed on the spot if they would find it. One of the only persons he trusted enough to keep it safe for him for a while, was Tyree. He did decide to not tell him what it actually was, to prevent him from accidentally telling others about it.

''Hey Tyree, can i ask you a favor? I still have a piece of equipment in my pockets, would you mind keeping it safe for a while?''

''Sure, if that makes you happy then i'll do that.''

Quay struggled to get the Lightsaber out of his pockets due to him still wearing handcuffs, but he still managed to do it.

''Here. Please be careful with it, it's an explosive. So whatever you do, don't press the button. If the Imperials catch me with that in my pockets, i am dead for sure.''

Although Tyree was hesitant to keep the item for a while, he agreed to look after it for some time. Just as he put the item in his pocket, the door of room 2006 opened. A couple of Stormtroopers dragged an unconscious person out of the room, and Quay quickly noticed the red glove the person was wearing. There was no doubt about it; at least some Red Hand members, a crime syndicate located on Coruscant who had hired him for his most recent job, were kept at this prison. Two Stormtroopers stepped out of the door, and dragged him into the room. To his surprise, Quay did not see the Inquisitor in the room. Only an interrogation chair, some medical supplies, and the same officer that was hunting him on Coruscant was standing in the room as well. The Stormtroopers put Quay in the chair, tightened the restraints on the armrests, and hooked him up to some medical device. The officer walked towards Quay, and began to talk.

''Quay Sta'nn. Son of a few politicians, lost them both at the age of 19, forced to live as a smuggler after that... downright tragic. I can remember that it was briefly mentioned over the news on Coruscant back when they were assassinated. The brutal murder of some politicians, and their son going missing shortly after. But that is not important for today. As you may have heard, the Empire is currently busy with taking down the Confederate Remnant in the Raxus system. Now, we thought you might be interested to join us to take them down? You might not make it out alive, but that is a sacrifice we are willing to make.''

''Never.'' Quay said, his anger could be clearly heard in his voice.

''We were expecting this reaction.'' the officer said. He activated his comm system, and although Quay could not clearly hear what he was saying he could make out the words ''Bring in the droid.'' A couple of moments after the officer said this, the door of the interrogation room opened. A small, round droid hovered into the room, and Quay immediately knew what that was. An IT-O Interrogation droid, specifically designed to torture people to get information from them. Although Quay had heard many rumors about it, he had never seen one in real life. As the droid came closer and closer towards him, the officer spoke again.

''Last chance. Accept the deal, or I will use this droid against you.'' He said.

''My answer is still the same. No.'' Quay replied.

''Alright then. Let the droid do its job.'' The officer said.

Quay could barely remember the next dozen minutes clearly due to the pain the droid was causing. The pain was unbearable, and he was sure that it could even kill him if it continued for longer. After what seemed to be an eternity, the droid finally stopped.

''Well, Quay, i can imagine that was not a pleasant experience.'' the officer said. ''No worries, we are not planning to kill you, for now at least. I can closely monitor your body functions, and it seems that if i order this wonderful droid to repeat the process you experienced moments ago you won't make it out alive. Seems like the chase on Coruscant really broke you down. So, what will it be now? Accept the deal, or pass away right here in this room?''

Quay was barely able to talk anymore. Everything in his body hurted like he had been shot with tasers thousands of times, and he felt like he was about to pass out due to the pain. Although he was fully aware of the consequences he would suffer if he accepted the deal, he was not ready to die here, at the hands of a droid. With a lot of trouble, he spoke out the exact words the officer wanted to hear.

''Fine. I accept the damn deal.'' He said.

The officer turned his head towards Quay, with a big smile forming on his face.

''Excellent. The exact details of the attack will be revealed shortly before the assault will begin. In the meantime, you will have to stay in your cell.'' The officer replied, before ordering some Stormtroopers to take him away.

Quay was back in his cell, reliving the experience in his head over and over. He felt sick that he actually accepted a deal like this from the Empire, but what else was he supposed to do? He was at the brink of death, and there was no other option he had that would have led to him making it out alive. With all the injuries he had, Quay realised that he had little to no chance at surviving the assault as well. All he could do was hope for the best.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well, this took way more time than i'd like to admit. I hope you all enjoy it!

Image on the right is a vintage B&W calendar that I gessoed and then painted (removed background buildings, boats in the foreground, and added the trees).

Roma

__________________________________

Outlining a Theory of General Creativity . .

. . on a 'Pataphysical projectory

Entropy ≥ Memory ● Creativity ²

__________________________________

Study of the day:

In earlier times, Watch it ! The little bird is coming out ! was a common sentence used by my grandfather to signal us to stay still during the exposure ! I was waiting for a long time without to see any bird coming out, of course. Now I believe I know why !

THE ALLEGORY OF CAMERA & OBSCURA

Once upon a time there was two small dark boxes, illuminated with certainties. Two small empty heads, full of hope, and whose sensitive soul was waiting until the external light penetrates them to dazzle them with an image of the "True Reality”. At the proper time, they finally opened.

Camera in pursuit of the Absolute, wanted all to see without any reflection. All, absolutely All ! Then, at the proper time, she decided to be totally overcome by the "True Entropic Reality", all her sensitivity offered to intensely feel everything, without any prejudice, without thinking one second with all these words which darkens the mind more than they enlighten it. She installed a hypersensitive film which she will push in spite of its coarse grain. She tuned her diaphragm to the maximum aperture, a long time, and gave up herself to ecstatically feel the whole true light of the whole True Entropic Reality.

Obscura in quest of the Universal Knowledge, wanted all to know precisely, he wanted all to understand and memorize with a maximum of details and discernment. Then at the proper time, he decided to focuse a depth of field as deep as possible, to choose a pause time as short as possible, to be sure to get the highest neatness of the True Real Universal Memory. He installed a hyperfine grain film which he will develop energetically to compensate its low sensitivity. He tuned the aperture at less than anything, and adjusted the pause time at an infinitesimal fraction of nothing.

The moral of the story ? All the photographers will say it to you !

Camera obtained the most luminous image which is at ounce the fuzziest one, an immaculate uniform Absolute Entropic white 100%blank.

Obscura obtained the finest image which is at ounce the darkest one, an immaculate uniform Universal black 100%blank.

From now on, they choose exposures suitable to create less blind images.

Camera finally formed in her several suspicions of True Reality. They are images as poor of Absolute Sensitivity as weak of Universal Knowledge, but they are marvellous and magic images, illuminated by unexpected shapes and colors, whistled by the calls of colored shadows. In the neighbourhood of the Absolute Entropy, each cell of Camera opens like a white sapphire prism dispersing and breaking up the Entropic light in colored iridescences. Now, from her cells juxtaposition are emerging lines and shapes, metamorphosing the dazzling Entropic light in simple but unknowable .. transcendent shadows, only lacking some .. illusive bird calls to give them a name.

Obscura finally formed in him several suspicions of True Reality. They are images as poor of Universal Knowledge as weak of Absolute Sensitivity, but they are marvellous and magic images, rich of ambiguous signs and senses. In the neighbourhood of the Universal Memory, each cell of Obscura opens like a black sapphire crystal dispersing and breaking up the universal darkness in colored enlightening sparks. Now, from his cells juxtapositions are emerging vowels, consonants and others signs, metamorphosing the gloomy universal darkness in simple but unknowable .. transcendent bird calls, only lacking some .. illusive shadows to give them a sense.

Listen ! The little birds are shading off !

_________________________________

rectO-persO | E ≥ m.C² | co~errAnce | TiLt

With the certainty of heavy rain soon* D1043 Western Duke is taking a run at Hatton Bank. The train was the 15.55 Paddington to Birmingham train which was always a good bet for a Western. It was amazing how many "Sunday drives in the country" managed to coincide with this working.

*The combination of inky black sky, wrong side light and full sun on the yellow front produced an almost impossible negative to print, with scanning this is the first time detail has appeared below the bodywork on the loco, it's taken 41 years to see it!

D1043 was a Crewe built locomotive, it entered traffic 26/10/1962, it was withdrawn 04/04/1976 and joined the growing line of Westerns at Swindon for cutting, that happened 10/02/1977.

Copyright Geoff Dowling; all rights reserved

What do you do when you're not sure? That's the topic of my sermon today. Last year when President Kennedy was assassinated, who among us did not experience the most profound disorientation? Despair? Which way? What now? What do I say to my kids? What do I tell myself? It was a time of people sitting together, bound together by a common feeling of hopelessness. But think of that. Your bond with your fellow being was your despair. It was a public experience. It was awful, but we were in it together. How much worse is it then for the lone man, the lone woman, stricken by a private calamity? "No one knows I'm sick." "No one knows I've lost my last real friend." "No one knows I've done something wrong." Imagine the isolation. Now you see the world as through a window. On one side of the glass, happy untroubled people, and on the other side, you.

I wanna tell you a story. A cargo ship sank one night. It caught fire and went down, and only this one sailor survived. He found a lifeboat, rigged a sail, and being of a nautical discipline turned his eyes to the heavens and read the stars. He set a course for his home, and, exhausted, fell asleep. Just keeps going on. Clouds rolled in, and for the next 20 nights, he could no longer see the stars. He thought he was on course, but there was no way to be certain. And as the days rolled on, and the sailor wasted away, he began to have doubts. -He just keeps on going- Had he set his course right? Was he still going on towards his home? Or was he horribly lost and doomed to a terrible death? No way to know. The message of the constellations, had he imagined it because of his desperate circumstance? or had he seen truth once and now had to hold on to it without further reassurance? There are those of you in church today who know exactly the crisis of faith I describe, and I wanna say to you, doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. When you are lost, you are not alone.

Doubt (2008)

Yar Tor at sunset. Again it was a long wait, overcast conditions and no certainty of any good light at all. The reward was something very special indeed, thanks for taking the time to have a look :-)

I always hope to see a Kingfisher, when I visit Bramall Park but it is far from a certainty. Even when I do see one, it is often just a flash of blue as it flies past. Last week I was lucky enough for one to stop, if only momentarily, on a branch the opposite side of the stream, allowing me to catch just a few shots This is probably the best shot of a Kingfisher I've managed , so far!

Befriending your monsters

While I can’t tell you why, I can tell you with certainty that I have a deep unease about traveling and new places.

This week I’ll be headed to California to speak at a conference, and all of my anxieties are in full force.

The only way for me to keep everything together (and be in decent enough shape to speak on stage) is to find a way to make peace with the monsters ebbing underneath my surface.

Who knows, perhaps they are friendly monsters 😉

After all, not everything is as it seems.

This image was created for a weekly theme challenge in currently running in my Facebook group, and last week’s theme “serenity.”

There’s a fun story behind one of the components of this image. Jen S was rowing this boat out across the lake with my friend Lena in tow to do a shoot. Benny was also modeling with this awesome mask that someone had made. He playfully swam up to the boat while Lena and Jen laughed and pretended to be afraid.

Originally I was hoping one of those images would be able to be a final piece, but the joy in the faces was too evident to make it anything by a playful snapshot.

However it got me thinking about this concept of “our monsters.” The energy of the original photo was such that I didn’t want this character Benny was playing to be bad. Instead I wanted something a little more of the meeting of the minds, and getting to know the things we fear.

So I found another image of my friend Lena where it looked like she could be engaged in a moment of hesitation, realizing that her fears may in fact be unfounded.

If you’d like to join us in this weekly challenge, pop on over here to Facebook: www.facebook.com/groups/jenkiaba.beneaththesurface/

French twins Marcelle (sitting up) and Matisse (laying down) are very close. But Matisse is forlorn; sometimes Marcelle's mischief and jokes scare her little sister. For instance, tonight just after Matisse got in bed, Marcelle told her there were poltergeists that were going to come out of the wall next to her bed if she drifted off to sleep.

"And they won't come to the top bunk where I sleep," Marcelle said with certainty as she looked at the wide-eyed stare on her sister's face.

"Is it really true?" Matisse asked, hoping for a reassuring answer.

"We just have to wait and see....I mean YOU just have to wait and see," Marcelle said with a smile.

***Recycled photo

"Aichinger’s current realism has something inevitable, something

mercilessly direct about it. The pointed placement of his figures in

the Euclidean clarity of the pictorial space looks almost monstrous.

The presence of personnel and a backdrop that repudiates

any enlightened understanding oft he picture produces a

naturalistic-looking certainty of being, which is shocking to look at,

in part because the seemingly almost tangible figures have fallen

into a kind of lifeless rigidity, as if they were cut off from the

eternally pulsating vital current, only to remain fixed between the

things surrounding them for all eternity. Here, it is as if a truth

inherent in the medium of the painting were being somewhat

unscrupulously revealed.

[...] Hans Aichinger’s new paintings represent a vehemently allegorical

realism, in which the conditio humana of the present is illustrated on

well-calculated stages. It is painted anthropology that technically and

poetically, as it were, dovetails grandly with an allegory of the

medium of painting. The thread running through all his recent paint-

ings is the theme of the creature that creates itself—homo faber

and divino artista, so to speak—in search of the meaning of its exis-

tence. Frequently, Aichinger manages to present in individual paint-

ings, precisely by means of the exaggeratedly posed quality of their

figures, a symbolic contend that goes beyond the level of concrete

action. This results in parable-like paintings à clef of a human exis-

tence that connects the course of time. [...] Hans Aichinger’s allegories

obtain their disturbing effect from a connection—one that is sensed

more than actually seen—to a contemporary aesthetic conveyed by

cool realism with archetypal forms of thought that rise out of the

symbolic worlds of old, increasingly forgotten myths, resulting in a

peculiar afterlife in the garb of the present.

[...] The extreme sharpness, capturing every point on the picture

plan, in which he causes the viewer to see his symbolic figures,

should be understood as an efford to outdo photography’s claim to

reality—which in the meanwhile has taken on almost mythological

status in the media age—and hence as a joyful affirmation of the

concept of illusionism. On the other hand, Aichinger seems to be

removing from the contemporary production of paintings the

media-reflective and media-imitative veil—which has become a

formative stylistic influence in order to focus again on the reality in

the image on the canvas. The resulting, virtually blinding clarity of

the pictorial events can be seen as a question about the truth of the

world. But that can be understood only by a medium that depicts a

reality that is deceptive—indeed, even false by nature—when

measured against the living.“ 1

Joachim Penzel, art historian, curator and publicist, talking with

Hans Aichinger about pictorial spaces and the space of the observer,

being human and the sense of being, timelessness and a tangible

claim to reality, all summed up in the essay „By Nature False—or,

The Truth of Painting“.

1. From: Joachim Penzel „By Nature False—or, The Truth of Painting“. In: Mono-

graph: „Hans Aichinger. Truth or Duty“ Hirmer 2013.

#HolyBasil #Helios

(Helios 44-2 58mm f2 Russian Lens)

“We honor the law, the armor of our peoplehood that was forged by venerable forces. We salute the men who, unmediatedly certain that God put it, just as it is, on the people with His own hand, ride with us into the field unimpeded by the weight of the armor. But we commiserate with those who wear it without this certainty, with the men whose limbs it makes so rigid and so stiff that they cannot go forth to perform their work, for the venerable armor hangs on their bodies like a costume in a historical parade.

-Martin Buber, On Judaism

“Blair deliberately exaggerated the threat posed by Saddam Hussein.”

“Chilcot finds that Blair deliberately exaggerated the threat posed by the Iraqi regime as he sought to make the case for military action to MPs and the public in the buildup to the invasion in 2002 and 2003. The then prime minister disregarded warnings about the potential consequences of military action, and relied too heavily on his own beliefs, rather than the more nuanced judgments of the intelligence services. “The judgments about Iraq’s capabilities ... were presented with a certainty that was not justified,” the report says.” The Guardian

Another entry in my gallery of discount store figurines, photographed in situ, exactly as I found them. I do that to ensure spontaneity, but also because rearranging them feels like cheating much the way it would to move balls on a pool table after the break. You've got to play them right where they land. I also worry that, if I were to handle the figurines, a wing or head might fall off and that's inevitably when the store manager would appear asking pointed questions about why I'm holding a wing or head. And, while we're on the subject, why am I taking pictures in his store? Anyway a very forlorn model here; note the shirt button necklace medallion, the flimsy tin wings and the inspirational 'hope' message printed on her dress. I first took this for an angel on account of the wings, but an astute observer told me this is probably more in the realm of a pixie. I'm in way over my head when it comes to such distinctions. All I can say with certainty is that once again, an object intended to create joy and happiness leaves me with a feeling of lonely sadness. I suppose these things are sort of a Rorschach test for the viewer; we all see something different and that's part of the wonder of artistic photography. I enjoy casting a sort of spell around these images, building (quite literally) on everyday things and making them somehow more significant.

"Creativity requires the courage to let go of certainties."

Erich Fromm

Another in my series of abstracts. I keep amassing filters

“Responsibility I believe accrues through privilege. People like you and me have an unbelievable amount of privilege and therefore we have a huge amount of responsibility. We live in free societies where we are not afraid of the police; we have extraordinary wealth available to us by global standards. If you have those things, then you have the kind of responsibility that a person does not have if he or she is slaving seventy hours a week to put food on the table; a responsibility at the very least to inform yourself about power. Beyond that, it is a question of whether you believe in moral certainties or not.”

He stands in that rare space between innocence and certainty, where the world begins to take shape and the self begins to sharpen. His gaze holds a quiet strength, a softness wrapped around something bold. This portrait lives in the tension between who we were and who we are learning to be.

Flower pots inspired by the shape of the VW Type 2 T1 are used for these decorative succulent plants. I don't know with certainty, but these plants might be those named kalanchoes.

I like the toucan bird motif on each pot! (a 'Type 2'-can?)

Taken at the florist department of a local supermarket.

If there is one certainty of life in Western Nebraska, it's that the weather is never certain. Twenty minutes prior, it was a blistering 100F day. The high plains were bathed in sunlight. As the train approached, it had cooled to 80F, the wind picked up to 65mph, and the storm took over. The storm would produce dime sized hail, a blinding dust storm, and microbursts that damaged several ranches. But when you live in Western Nebraska you learn that regardless of dangerous weather, if you're alive to see it when it ends, it's still a perfect day.

Western Nebraska, USA

Friday, June 24, 2016

©2016 Matthew James Ryan, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This photo may not be republished, copied, printed or used in any way, on any medium and under any circumstances without written consent. This is my living, so violators will be prosecuted.

“For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”- Vincent Vangogh

“We know our past but cannot know our future with certainty. The present is the interaction of our past and future; our past impacts the probability of current actions, our freedom plays a role in determining which future probabilities get actualized and how those actualizations impact our future probabilities.”

-Heidi Russell

Zion National Park, Utah--near the east entrance.

Best viewed in lightbox, i.e., press "L" on keyboard.

There is a larger butte in the heart of the park that goes by the name "White Throne." This is a smaller, but still beautiful, version.

I did not know with any certainty that I'd be revisiting the park this year but revisit I did. Last year I was only here about 5 or 6 hours as I was running out of time, so I knew it warranted a lengthier look. I just didn't know it would be this year. I spent the better part of 2 & 1/2 days this time. Still insufficient, but a marked improvement. That half day was spent in a part of the park I did not visit before--the far western portion. I would have spent an entire day there except for some trying circumstances. But more on that later.

This is a Pano combining 2 photos using my 50mm lens.

;-) Texto en castellano mas abajo ;-)

Excuse me the many mistakes that sure I have committed in the translation, I hope that it is understood regardless!

Development of the trilogy blog – pride – persons.

The second part of this trilogy that I dedicate to explain, and to explain myself, because I use the captions (feet) of my photos as if they were my personal blog. This time I will comment because I feel proud, basing on my concept of person that I exposed in the first photo of the trilogy.

I am a heterosexual crossdresser girl. It is a fact … but, what does it means? If I you tell the truth, I don´t know it with certainty. It seems as if every crossdresser girl had her own definition … probably because there are many branches inside the crossdress … but this it is another theme. I suppose that to the others happen like to me, I am ashamed instinctively of this facet of my life, it is something cultural, the image of the "transvestite" is at least ridiculous, laughable, even I fall down in it without thinking it. It is like if it was so unnatural, so out of place, so incomprehensibly … why a sane man, that considers himself as man, would try to pass off as a woman?... And this it is the nice image, also there is the vicious image, in which you are a disgusting pervert which who know how many more barbarities will do. It is not to feel very proud … not. But the reason wins to the instinct, I am a person, and as such I have reasoning and feelings, and they say to me that this it is not the reality, it is not my reality. Maybe it is a parafilia, as some people say, or maybe it is the aptitude to overcome the assigned role and experiencing positive sensations that are denied to us without reason. I do not have answers, disease or quality, I don´t know, but I know that I do not have motives for which to be ashamed. I am a person, with multiple characteristics, but none of them defines me lonely and to be a crossdresser girl is not the exception, only it is a small part of me. Globally I am not discontented with me, do not understand me badly, I should improve very much as person, but if tomorrow I would die and I would have to give account for my life and for what I am, I believe that I would go out in peace, and it is a motive of pride. The global pride like person, to feel yourself well with total honesty is what really matters. And the pride for the different characteristics that I have? It is a different pride, with different purposes, bad some as arrogance, and other more positive as the reaffirmation. The pride that I feel for be a crossdress girl is of this type. If the things were as they should be, surely I would not feel proud for it, would be another characteristic more as to have small foot or the dark eyes. But unfortunately the things are not like that, and some groups have had to use pride as method of defense, as reaffirmation against discriminations and injustices.The example most clear is the homosexuality. I am hetero and it allows me to see the situation from out, impartially, and I believe that they do very well in feeling proud, because understandable better or worse, what harm do it?, why to make to feel badly to a person for a quality that goes implicit in that person?... My crossdress does not harm anybody either and though I can give up practising it, it is not anything that could make disappear of me, as I cannot change my liking or my way of being, it is a part of my intimate self. So, if I see it good for the others, why not for me?

I look around and see so many motives for what the people should be ashamed, so many attitudes, so many actions that cause so much harm … And later I look at me, being ashamed instinctively for wearing a dress or for feeling feminine … Not … I refuse to accept it, it is possible that in the moment I could not avoid the instinct, but I refuse to accept consciously a shame that does not correspond to me, because of it I am proud! This one is not an allegation in order that we all go out to the light and feel us superproud (though it would be very well also I understand that it is very difficult and dangerous), it is for feeling us well with ourselves and we do not torture psychologically ourselves without motive. The crossdress makes me feel good, and when I dress and look at the mirror, there goes out for me a smile of satisfaction and pride. I am proud!!

Desarrollo de la trilogía blog-orgullo-personas.

Segunda parte de esta trilogía que dedico a explicar, y a explicarme a mi misma de paso, el porque utilizo los pies de fotos como si fueran mi blog personal. Esta vez os comentaré porqué me siento orgullosa, basándome en mi concepto de persona que expuse en la primera foto de la trilogía.

Miro alrededor y veo tantos motivos por lo que la gente debería avergonzarse, tantas actitudes, tantas acciones que hacen tanto mal… Y después me miro a mí, avergonzándome instintivamente por ponerme un vestido o por sentirme femenina… No… no lo acepto, puede que en el momento no pueda evitar el instinto, pero me niego a aceptar conscientemente una vergüenza que no me corresponde, ¡por eso estoy orgullosa! Este no es un alegato para que salgamos todas a la luz y nos sintamos superorgullosas (aunque eso estaría muy bien también entiendo que es muy difícil y peligroso), sino para que nos sintamos bien con nosotras mismas y no nos martiricemos psicológicamente sin motivo. El crossdress me hace sentir bien, y cuando me visto y me miro al espejo, me sale una sonrisa de satisfacción y orgullo. ¡¡Estoy orgullosa!!

PS: Si quieres ver un video con este look (If you want see a video with this look):

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GHQJ03rBJg

Si quieres ver una versión reducida en Flickrs (If you want see a small version in Flickrs):

www.flickr.com/photos/61410455@N08/6319457850/in/photostream

... sortir de la toile. Parmi les dix-huit commanditaires du tableau, seul un troisième est identifié avec certitude, il s'agit du porte-enseigne Jan Visscher Cornelisen, qui brandit le drapeau de la compagnie. Derrière son épaule gauche, la tradition critique prétend identifier un quatrième personnage, Rembrandt lui-même, dans le visage dont on ne voit qu'un œil.

ENGLISH :

In the center are Frans Banning Cocq _, in black, reaching the hand starkly towards the viewer, the captain of the company and also mayor of Amsterdam and Willem van Ruytenburch, his lieutenant, whose halberd seems to threaten to leave the canvas. Among the eighteen sponsors of the painting, only a third is identified with certainty, it is the ensign Jan Cornelisen Visscher, brandishing the flag of the company. Behind his left shoulder, the critical tradition claims to identify a fourth character, Rembrandt himself, in the face of which we only see one eye.

Please don't use my images on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission.

© All rights reserved - Use without permission is illegal!

yuhki kuramoto - endless love

Come si può vedere dal colore dell' acqua del lago, la primavera è ancora lontana...

The light of the mind is poorer

than beginning light: the shades

we find pigment for

poor beside the tacit

variety we can all see

yet cannot say: of beginning light

I will say this, that it dispenses

imperial equality to everything

it touches, so that purple

becomes common wear, but purple

resolving in its chord

a thousand tones

tinged by a thousand

shadows, all

yielding themselves

slowly up: and the mind

feeling its way among

such hesitant distinctions,

is left behind as they

flare into certainties that

begin by ending them

in the light of day.

Charles Tomlinson

dennissylvesterhurd.blogspot.com/2020/03/one-of-certainti...

"The moment when you first wake up in the morning is the most wonderful of the twenty-four hours. No matter how weary or dreary you may feel, you possess the certainty that, during the day that lies before you, absolutely anything may happen. And the fact that it practically always doesn't, matters not a jot. The possibility is always there."

dennissylvesterhurd.blogspot.com/2020/03/one-of-certainti...

Is death....