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Oh, how the light changes… it gave Monet his Haystack Series,
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haystacks_(Monet)
And never fails to delight and surprise me here, when least expected.
This photo was taken 5 minutes before 'Last light'..
Can you believe it…and one of the swans is just paddling into view..
Besides a little straighten up, no edits.
This is exactly what I was seeing.
Reminds me, well, it's almost the colours of our Australian flag of the indigenous.
aboriginalflag.com.au/history.html
Each colour has a symbolic meaning for them as a collective people.
Which brings me to this story, of when I was last here at the lake...
Almost this time last year, mid-August, 3 days after my mother's birthday, I took a few hours off and met up with a fellow poet and high school teacher, Robert, for lunch at the kiosk at the other end of the lake.
We chose this spot because there wouldn't be many people around during the week, and we could be as loud and animated as we like, reading each other our latest poems.
There was only one other table occupied at this outdoor café, an older lady and her male friend, and on second look, I realised it was Liz, whom I hadn't seen for years.
We used to swap my kinesiology for her Reiki, way back in the 90's...
She was having lunch with a fellow whom she'd met on holiday up at Wilpeena Pound, and he was passing through on his way back to Sydney.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilpena_Pound
(Thought this was a weird coincidence as the poem I'd planned to read gave mention and great respect to this place.)
They were both indigenous. (Also a coincidence, in regards to the poem..)
LIz recognised me too and we were both delighted to see each other, so I invited them over to sit and listen to my reading after we'd all finished eating.
The poem I'd intended to read to Robert now had a surprise bigger audience, and little did Liz and friend know that they were in for quite a surprise…
My poem was about rural life in the 1900's and onwards, as had been told to me, about how it was for the aboriginal peoples when us 'whities' moved in, just a bit further south of here, in western New South Wales.
It takes a final twist at the end, relating to the events surrounding my mother's birth on a sheep station, outside Tamworth, 1929.
Mum's mother had come down with influenza which rapidly became severe pneumonia. This brought on early labour, and she died giving birth to a tiny premature baby, who grew up to be my own mother.
This took place in the harshest part of the freezing cruel winter, that is well known to descend and sweep across the broad expansive Liverpool Plains, that has no protection against the icy gale force winds..
Mum's Aunty Ida was a full blood indigenous lady from the 'Kamillaroi' people, married to my white Great Uncle Bill.
As typical of the times, this was quite a bone of contention, quietly chewed upon by the rest of the family..
But amongst all the following grief and mêlée, she was the one who stepped forward to take this fragile premmy home, to raise her with her own half cast children after the death of her white sister-in-law.
Mum's own father, a butcher and book keeper for the Currabubulla Sheep Station was a drinking, gambling man who, in shock at the sudden death of his very capable wife, was ill equipped to run the house and care for 4 other children.
And so he let this new fragile baby go, thinking she was so weak, she wouldn't survive for long anyway ..
Two years had passed when he heard through the grapevine that little two year old Betty was actually blossoming with robust health, and from the urgings of his other children, now settled into coping without their deceased mother and two years older as well, quite looking forward to having their little sister rather than facing the ordeal of caring for a sickly newborn…well, he went and took her back from their aboriginal Aunty Ida..and brought her home.
My mother had grown up for her first two years, quite happily with this loving blended family.. who, of course, were left heartbroken, when discovering they'd been told a lie, and little Betty wasn't going to visit her real siblings, just for the day …and wouldn't be 'coming back tomorrow'…as promised...
In fact, Mum had to wait another 45 long years before I could find her half cast cousin, Una , to be reunited..
Her father justified it all with the excuse to the rest of his family that he'd heard that full blood Aunty was going on Walkabout soon and was going to take little Betty with her.
My poem concluded that without this wonderful aboriginal woman, my Great Aunty Ida, and her huge heart, my own mother had little chance of survival, and my immediate family that is a little twig of the whole ancestry tree may never have existed.
Well, all three of my audience sat transfixed at the social/anthroplolgical details I'd managed to write in rhyming, rhythmic, poetic verse.
While reading it aloud to my indigenous friends, at various points I became painfully aware of how close to the bone some of the subject matter was in their history of dismissive disregard from the white man, and I'd pause, almost to gasp for the next breath... should I skip the next bit? It's so raw!
But I'd glance up from the page at Liz, and see her sitting back with a grin from ear to ear, gently nodding with such huge satisfaction and appreciation that her people had just received a gift of precious, heartfelt validation of their struggles of recognition ever since 'civilised colonisation' began over 200 nears ago.
Lets just say it surpassed a certain flaky, belated "Sorry…" message from the govt about 7 years ago.
I won't risk my "Safe" category by saying the more earthier Aussie version of that..
Gosh though, I'm still glad I'd already cut three of the most graphic chapters out of it…
The poem begins with a tribute to Eddie Mabo, tireless campaigner for indigenous rights, then there's about ten pages of a collection of stories told to me first hand from various people over the years, entwined together to paint the bigger picture, concluding with my mother's rocky beginning in life and how she was given a second chance at this life by an indigenous angel..
There's more to the story of this day, to be continued another time perhaps…but for now I'll finish by telling you that during one chapter I had to stop reading completely and break down into sobs.
I was in such a state of overwhelm, it had hit me that it was such a privilege to be able to read it to an indigenous audience and they absolutely loved it.
Yes, I had written it, but it was only then that I really started to feel the depth of it..
Meanwhile, poor Robert, my straight-laced, conservative, whiter-than-white teacher friend sat at the end of the table gobsmacked-speechless with awe throughout the whole proceedings, and totally forgotten, due to all the interaction between the rest of us..
But hey ~ Phew! ~ What a day...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yesterday’s visit to Drumburn viewpoint after the rain,which started at Dumfries in the morning and called here on the way back from Bainloch deer park.
011 :: 365 :: 11th January 2013
This is one of those things that you can push an object through is and it will make the shape, for the life of me I don't know what it is called, hope all you smart people out there can tell me.
Originally I had posted a bw mono version of this but changed my mind and it is now pink mono :)
[explore #410 on 26.03.09]
time to change.. the buddy icon :P
well, I also should dye my hair 'cause I look blond for an half and dark for the other half actually, but never mind -.-"
hooray for batroom mirror's shots u.u
tempo di cambiare.. la buddy icon :P
vabbè, mi dovessi anche fare una tintura, che sono mezza bionda e mezza bruna, ma pazienza -.-"
ah, e poi sì, mi faccio le foto allo specchio nel gabinetto, perchè le gabinette si autoritraggono nel gabinetto (non fa una piega, no? u.u)
published on the online magazine fringe indie, on february-march 2010.
|| web site || blog (ITA) || twitter || facebook ||
© All rights reserved. Use without permission is illegal.
title.
Scenery of getting off.
Manhattan . New york city 2017. shot … 　 　　　　4 / 6
Day of departure from Japan, August 16, 2017.
The day I came back to Japan, 21 August
(4 nights 6 days.)
(Today's picture. That's unannounced.)
( ( Lumix G3 shot ) )
image.
John Legend - Each Day Gets Better
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Profile.
In November 2014, we caught the attention of the party selected to undertake the publicity for a mobile phone that changed the face of the world with just a single model, and will conclude a confidentiality agreement with them.
stealaway.cocolog-nifty.com/stealaway/2018/03/tokyo-big-s...
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iBooks. Electronic Publishing. It is free now.
0.about the iBooks.
stealaway.cocolog-nifty.com/stealaway/2017/03/about-digit...
1.unforgettable '(ENG.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216576828?ls=1&...
2.unforgettable '(JNP.ver.)(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/unforgettable/id1216584262?ls=1&...
3. Streamlined trajectory.(For Japanese only.)
itunes.apple.com/us/book/%E6%B5%81%E7%B7%9A%E5%BD%A2%E3%8... =11
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instagram.
www.instagram.com/mitsushiro_nakagawa/
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Pinterest.
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fotolog
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twitter.
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Japanese is the following.
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flickr . ( XL size )
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/
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My Novel >> Unforgettable'
(This book is Dedicated to the future artist.)
Mitsushiro Nakagawa
All Translated by Yumi Ikeda .
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon Live in Dublin
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
There are two reasons why a person faces the sea.
One, to enjoy a slice of shine in the sea like children bubbling over in the beach.
The other, to brush the dust of memory like an old man who misses old days, staring at the shine
quietly.
Those lead to only one meaning though they do not seem to overlap. It’s a rebirth.
I face myself to change tomorrow, a vague day into something certain.
That is the meaning of a rebirth.
I had a very sweet girlfriend when I was 18.
After she left, I knew the meaning of gentleness for the first time and also a true pain of loss. After
she left, how many times did I depend too much on her, doubt her, envy her and keep on telling lies
until I realized it is love?
I wonder whether a nobody like me could have given something to her who was struggling in the
daily life in those days. Giving something is arrogant conceit. It is nothing but self-satisfaction.
I had been thinking about such a thing.
However, I guess what she saw in me was because I had nothing. That‘s why she tried to see
something in me. Perhaps she found a slight possibility in me, a guy filled with ambiguous, unstable
tomorrow. But I wasted days depending too much on her gentleness.
Now I finally can convey how I felt in those days when we met.
1/9
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www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/24100804163/in/dateposted...
Fin.
images.
U2 - No Line On The Horizon
www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oKwnkYFsiE&feature=related
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Title of my book > unforgettable'
Author : Mitsushiro Nakagawa
Out Now.
ISBN978-4-86264-866-2
in Amazon.
www.amazon.co.jp/Unforgettable’-Mitsushiro-Nakagawa/dp/...
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Schedule of the next novel.
Still would stand all time.(unforgettable'2)
2018. Spring. It's expected to open it. That's Japanese.
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An exhibition in 2019.
spring.
theme.
Silence Is the Way. (Tentative title)
place. Tokyo Big Site.
Sponsoring. Design festa.
2020.
Date unknown.
DIC Kawamura Memorial Art Museum attached gallery.
place. Sakura City, Chiba Prefecture.
theme.
From that day, forever ...
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instagram.
www.instagram.com/mitsushiro_nakagawa/
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Pinterest.
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fotolog
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twitter.
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Japanese is the following.
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Often providing great opportunities for photos shift changes on some coal mining operations were exciting places to be. This was Nancheng in Jixi and an Sy is being serviced in the pollution/gloom..
We have 55018, in 1979, working the 10:45 Leeds - Kings Cross passing Lofthouse Colliery. I am stood on the road bridge, which now gives access to Outwood station.
The view 41 years later, has an Azuma, working a Leeds - Peterborough service (due to Sunday engineering works). This shot is from the drone, as no photo is possible from the road bridge due to trees.
Lofthouse colliery site is now a nature reserve, and has a memorial to the 7 miners who lost their lives when the workings at the colliery were flooded on March 21st, 1973.
This is the first tree I have seen so far with all, or nearly all, of its leaves changed. Taken on a very damp morning using a Nikon D5100 with Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 lens.
Back to Emerald Island . Fishing boats facing incoming tide filling shallow bay. Cloudy , quite Sunday morning in Clonakilty. I would like to invite you to take a look at more of the images from Ireland www.flickr.com/photos/januszbc/sets/72157605222175919/
Happy 4th of July to our friends in USA
See where this picture was taken - Ring [?]
Explore July 4th 2008 #489
Ch Ch Changes!!!
I hated the brown, It made that green look even more garish to me sooo I repainted the table and shelves white and I decided to just make the shelving evenly spaced and have them completey wrap around the corner rather than that break in the middle. It looks a lot more cohesive to me now but now my back hurts! LOL
A tree started shedding (losing) leaves as Fall deepened, the once green ground also turned brown, at Historic Stewart Farm, Surrey BC.
Looking down Pancras Road, with the mighty terminus on the right, Thursday 19th September 1985. I've cropped it square to eliminate a large empty area of pavement, but this is actually a 35mm shot. I can remember the cabinets of Harold Wilson or Edward Heath with some clarity, but the only member of Her Majesty's government I could name today (after a few moments' thought) is the Prime Minister. I've found that the mind acknowledges few developments or changes in the look of the world after the age of about twenty-five. More than thirty years later this scene still looks contemporary to me. If I got up now and walked into it there wouldn't be much of a "step back in time" experience. Most of what we invest with significance belongs to the first one-third of life. That Commer van looks a bit dated, but that's about it. Albeit that cigarette advertisements are now forbidden, the poster's punning slickness would not be out of place today.
"Changes...."
... happen in all aspects of living, but also geographically for a variety of reasons.
Geographically speaking, one area always shifting and changing is where Corney Brook/Rivière à Lazare flows into the gulf. The currents, storm surf & winds will shift the sand and gravel quite dramatically, often beckoning me to come down for a few pix.
Yesterday was such a day, I had planned to go for a drive up further, but then got distracted by this.
© Michel JS Soucy
'Change comes to us, whether we welcome it or not. It is necessary for change to occur, for how do we progress if not through change?
I hold no contempt for this change. I have lived this life and worn this face well, I shall go out on my own terms. Fully embracing whomever shall take the place of this face. A sacrifice is necessary for change. And I gladly take that sacrifice so life may begin anew.
Run fast Doctor. And always be kind...'
Today’s photo session started on top of a parking garage, but it started to rain, so I moved undercover. The new location had no view, but more interesting lighting. The city view was blown out in the first photos, anyway.
Blouse, Victoria’s Secret. Skirt, Mossimo. Tights, Apostrophe. Boots, Lauren Ralph Lauren. Sunglasses, Target. Jacket, Christian Dior (altered gift). Bag, Merona.
The subtle background color is what makes this shot interesting; although there is snow, it was taken in the fall when the foliage had not completely changed, so there is a hint of orange/red in the background.
textures kindly provided by
smoko-stock.deviantart.com/art/Rabbit-And-Bear-115237711?... and
picasaweb.google.com/Skeletalmess/ShadowhouseCreationsPos...
This is the final video (which you can watch here: youtu.be/n-ttuRpVqjo) part of last week's outing, a stroll around M&S at Bluewater in those lovely seamed stockings. I did, though, change my skirt for one slightly longer for this walk.