This is one more picture that I have shot at the upper terrace which is at a few meters from Bivi Razaia Masjid, a small mosque, located in the chawk of Varanasi (Benaras).

Up there I know a Muslim family who works on the dyeing process of the famous silk Banarsi sarees.

I like to come there and to walk among the saris which are drying under the sun.

Each time a new color spreads out, like an offer with no restraint to the celestial king of light.

There is a dreamy atmosphere which takes me somewhere over the Silk road like in a ghazal by Shujaat Husain Khan...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=bckvBBUPVJw

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Every tiny little moment of our lives has the ability to make a profound impact on our futures. Every single action has consequences but the reaction is not always "equal and opposite," as it were. No, oftentimes the tiniest action we take can snowball into something massive. An unstoppable force that can change our lives forever without us even realizing it.

As was the case with our two sisters seen here. Growing up in the same household with the same parents in the same schools and yet so wildly different from one another. The eldest sister Riven was ambitious and determined, the perfect fit for Slytherin just like her father, grandmother, great-grandparents, and so on as far back as anyone could remember. Emily, meanwhile, was clever and wise and always had her nose buried in some book or other and would thus find herself quite at home among the learned in Ravenclaw tower.

So many tiny little moments led each of these children to being the person they were and caused the dusty old sorting hat to send the girls right where they belonged.

The sisters always had a rather strained relationship and this only became more severe once the girls started their lives at Hogwarts. Emily often called Riven out for some of her more unsavory slytherin behaviors while Riven would often push the younger girl beyond her limits and well outside her comfort zone in some misguided attempt at helping the younger girl grow.

Toward the end of Emily's first year, she found herself waiting in line to face her boggart and little did she know this experience would only further drive the sisters apart. When Emily approached, the room was deathly still and the first year could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Any moment now her greatest fear would burst out of the wardrobe to torment her but even after countless hours of speculation she had no idea what it might be. The moment stretched on for an eternity and just as she’d thought the boggart had given up for the day...

"Suddenly, there was a knock from the other side of the door. Slowly, it opened and a figure peeked her head out. It’s Riven! However, she looked a bit older as she stepped out onto the floor. Riven was dressed fairly nicely, albeit in very typical pureblood style like she’d been taking fashion advice from Octavia Dechants. The girl was eerily calm before smiling. She looked at Emily with a wrinkled nose as she spoke out. “I don’t know why you continue to befriend those filthy mudbloods, especially the ones causing issues for You-Know-Who! It’s awfully embarrassing to have to deal with a troublemaker you’re related to,” she tsks- scolding her sister as if she were a child. She pulled a wand from her sleeves and aimed it at Emily with a tight scowl, “unfortunately, if I want to prove my loyalties, I’ll have to get rid of you.”"

Emily shrank back when the image of her older sister appeared from within the wardrobe and whimpered a soft, “R… Riven?” This was her first time facing the dreaded boggart and she’d had no idea what to expect but this most certainly wasn't it. She shook her head and blinked, trying very hard to force herself to believe it wasn't real. It wasn't!! Right!? But what, exactly, was she seeing?? Emily seemed rather lost and confused. Was it a boggart? Was it a dream? Or was it some horrific glimpse of things yet to be. With a trembling hand, Emily raised her wand and squeaked a soft, "riddikulus..." but there was nothing. The tendrils of fear had driven far too deep around the girl's mind.

"The boggart-Riven looked surprised, then smiled wickedly and raised its wand. "You thought you could kill me?" it asked Emily, then started to chuckle. "That's...really..." it said, stumbling a little, as more laughter bubbled out of its own throat. "You can NEVER defeat me!" it shrieked, drawing back the wand even as more laughter spilled from its own throat. The laughter had the same effect on the boggart whether it came from the fear it's presenting or another, and even as the boggart-Riven shouted 'AVAA-', it was sucked back into the wardrobe which closed hard enough to rock the heavy wood on its feet.”"

The real Riven, meanwhile, stood in the back corner of the room with her Slytherin housemates glaring at the scene. The older girl had her arms crossed and was scowling at the first year, already plotting how she would make the younger girl pay for trying to tarnish her reputation in such a way.

But of course this was only one of many possible outcomes for the girls and fate saw fit to drive them down a different path.

A path that led to Riven being sorted into Ravenclaw and Emily into Slytherin. And it was Riven’s boggart that showed the twisted version of Emily instead, the protective older sister fearing what may become of the younger girl under the wrong influence.

We may never know what small and seemingly insignificant decisions, actions, or events led to the girls being who they’d actually become. We can only imagine and ask ourselves… what if?

Idea credit (stolen with permission): flickr.com/photos/194538309@N04/52776099920

Boggart text credit (altered to fit the reversal of roles): Mischief Managed staff: mischiefmanagedsl.net/

Some Background:

The Space Defense Robot-04-Mk. XIV Destroid Nimrod was an anti-air/heavy artillery mecha, and intended as a replacement for the SDR-04-Mk. XII Phalanx, a Destroid specifically designed for space operations to defend the SDF-1 Macross, along with its sister unit, the cannon-armed ADR-04-Mk. X Destroid Defender.

The Nimrod was, like the Phalanx, first deployed on the SDF-1 and was used to augment the ship's own weapon system to protect the vessel from Zentraedi attacks, even though the type came relatively late and was only used in the final phase of the war and only in limited numbers. After the conflict, production was throttled down (only a total of fifty SDR-04-Mk. XIVs were eventually built), and the surviving Nimrods from the SDF-1 were stationed at airbases in New Macross City and in nearby cities, such as Monument City.

Specifications:

Designation: SDR-04-Mk XIV

Mecha Class: Destroid

Crew: 2 (Pilot, WSO)

Weight: 21.8 tons (dry)

45.5 tons (loaded)

Height: 12.36 m (hull only, incl. radome)

13,50 m (with raised arms)

Breadth: 9,32 m

Depth: 5.0m

Max. walking speed: 72 kph loaded

Armament:

2x weapon clusters in shoulder locations, each with:

- Eight launch tubes for 540mm caliber mid-/long-range missiles (typically with anti-air capacity, artillery

rockets as alternative), with eight missiles ready and another sixteen as reserve (for a total of 48)

- One Mauler PBG-06 liquid-cooled electrically-charged twin particle beam gun

- Three thermal smoke dischargers

The kit and its assembly:

This is a fictional Macross Destroid, with a highly modified Imai Phalanx kit at its core. It depicts a potential successor for the missile-only-armed Phalanx, but it has been totally made up. Inspiration came when I recently procured a bunch of Kotobukiya’s MSG sets for mecha conversions – one of these sets included the quadruple missile launchers that now make up the Nimrod’s new “arms”. I was torn between using a Defender or a Phalanx as conversion basis, but due to the weapon pods’ bulkiness I went for the more massive Phalanx.

Beyond the MSG parts and the replacement of the Phalanx “missile drums”, there was initially no real plan for the conversion – things evolved gradually, depending on the donor parts at hand. However, several fundamental changes were made. The most important improvement measure that works for all Destroid kits with the “04” chassis is the integration of a completely now hip joint arrangement. OOB, the model's posture is pretty stiff, with the legs and feet facing straight forward. The model is just supposed to stand upright, and with the model’s OOB joint options it is really hard to create a vivid poise. Furthermore, the bolts that hold the legs are prone to break off, even more so because the Imai kit is from the 1st generation of mecha kits, without vinyl caps and just relying on a very tight joint fit for hold.

My proven solution: the implantation of a new hip “bone” made from plastic-coated steel wire, which is stiff in itself but can be bent in two dimensions. The thighs had to be modified accordingly, since the wire is much thinner than the original bolts. Inside of the pelvis, the W-shaped wire was attached with the help of sprue material and styrene profiles, a thorough fixation is necessary because a lot of load has to be held in place in a very small space.

In order to attach the legs to the wire, there’s a convenient trick: the receptor holes in the thighs were simply filled with small vinyl rings, standard material from other mecha kits (e.g. from Arii’s 1:100 VF-1 Battroids or the Gunze Sangyo/Aoshima Dorvack PAs), the rings’ outer AND inner diameter fit perfectly into the new arrangement. With this trick, a much more dynamic and "natural" leg position could be achieved, also thanks to the large feet and their joints of the “04” Destroid chassis. This tuning measure improves the model considerably. The legs were otherwise taken OOB, just some small styrene bits were added to the lower legs’ front sides (improving another small detail flaw of the model), and some openings on the lower legs’ rear side were filled with putty and styrene sheet. Furthermore, the open insides of the “heels” were filled with putty, too.

In order to integrate the new missile bins, suitable adapters for the shoulder had to be found. Being somewhat lazy and trying to use as many parts from the Phalanx kit as possible, I decided to integrate a styrene tube all through the upper body, so that I got better attachment points. This tube was extended so far that I could re-use the Phalanx’ blast exhausts from the original missile bins as shoulder joint covers. This looks very natural and these re-dedicated parts fit well over the implanted central styrene tube channel as well as into the channel that runs along the MSG missile containers’ inner side. In order to attach the new arms/containers, a smaller diameter styrene tube was glued into these channels, so that the new pods could be moved vertically.

As a weapon improvement over the Phalanx, a pair of particle beam guns was added to the new missile containers – they come originally from a Dorvack PA-36K “Berlon” kit, but they were tailored considerably in order to fit into their new position. They also help to hide the new shoulder joint, which was covered from above with parts from the Phalanx kit (the boxed that are normally attached to the upper legs) and the space between them with paper tissue, drenched with white glue. The result is a good visual transition.

The central hull was changed in order to move the look away from the Phalanx base. The rear side uses OOB parts, but these were modified and attached to the hull in a different way, so that the back is not as deep as on the Phalanx. The front received a vertical pair of searchlights (formerly return rollers from a 1:35 tank…), set into the breast plate. The cockpit bulge between the shoulders as well as the head unit are completely new. The cockpit cover is a leftover hull piece from a Kotobukiya helicopter drone, and it was moved forward, so that a crew of two is more plausible. The head unit on the elongated spine behind and above it consists primarily of a donor from a wrecked VT-61 “Tulcas” mecha (Dorvack), plus a small dish antenna for a tracking radar on the right (left over from a Dorvack PA-36K “Berlon” kit) and a round radome for target acquisition – scratched from main wheels of a Matchbox PB2Y and set upon a mount made from styrene profiles. Looks strange, esp. with that flat, square head unit underneath, but I wanted a unique and different look that sets the Nimrod apart from other canonical Destroid designs. And this certainly worked.

A final word concerning the Phalanx kit itself: like all other Destroids models, this is basically a simple affair and the model goes together well – but expect some PSR on every seam, and there are some improvements possible that IMHO raise the model’s quality. The lack of vinyl caps makes later movement a tricky affair, though, and it is interesting to see that while the “04” chassis Destroids (Phalanx, Tomahawk and Defender) share the same lower body, all three kits are different! As a positive trait concerning the finish, the Phalanx is also the only kit of this trio that comes with decals for the typical white trim on the lower legs of these Destroids.

Painting and markings:

Once more I wanted to stay true to the original look of a typical Macross Destroid from the “04” series. These tend to carry a uniform livery in murky/dull tones of green, brown and ochre: unpretentious "mud movers". Anything else is rare (I am aware of dark blue Phalanx’ on board of the SDF-1), and complex camouflage patterns are AFAIK not seen (probably a tribute to the TV series’ cel production). In consequence, I gave the Nimrod an overall livery in a rather unidentifiable brownish tone, namely RAL 7008 (Khakigrau), a tone that was carried by German WWII Afrikakorps tanks and very similar to the tone IDF vehicles like the Merkava typically carry nowadays. Since I only had this tone in a rattle can available, the model and its components were painted accordingly, with an additional hushed spray over the upper surfaces with a slightly lighter tone as a shading measure. After this basic painting, the parts received a washing with thinned black ink.

Decals mostly come from the OOB sheet, plus some extra stencils, including the "nose art" painted on the left leg (from a P-38); many Destroids and also Armored Valkyries seem to bear such markings. Gives the mecha a personal touch, though.

Finally, before everything was assembled, the kit received a dry-brushing treatment with light grey and an overall coat with matt acrylic varnish. As a final step, mineral pigments were dusted over the model, esp. around the feet and the lower areas of the mecha.

A rather straightforward conversion project that gradually evolved – but with a postive outcome, after some twists and turns. The fictional Destroid Nimrod turned out more believable than expected, thanks to the good donor parts that went into it, and the simple livery also adds to the design’s “realism” within the Macross universe. Even though the thing still looks odd – but not worse than the other canonical Destroids from the original TV series!

+++ DISCLAIMER +++

Nothing you see here is real, even though the conversion or the presented background story might be based historical facts. BEWARE!

Some background:

The Soviet Laboratory of High-Speed Automobiles (LSA ChADI, today the Chardiv National Automobile and Highway University) was founded in 1953. One of the laboratory’s founders was Vladimir Nikitin, a famous racer not only inside the Soviet Union but also around the world. The main purpose of Vladimir Nikitin’s of was to build the fastest car in the world. This idea of creating race cars became the purpose of the laboratory and has been continued by students of Nikitin throughout the years, with research and prototypes in various fields of car propulsion.

This time the goal was to push „скорость“ and the national land speed record in excess of 800 km/h (500 mph), and step by step the vehicle’s top speed was gradually increased. On August 15, an officially timed record attempt was made, again with Victor Barchenkov at the steering wheel. The first of the two obligatory runs within an hour was recorded at a very promising 846.961 km/h (526.277 mph), but, at the end of the second run, „скорость“ veered off and no time was measured. Even worse, the vehicle lost its parachute brakes and went out of control, skidding away from the dry race track into Lake Baskunchak’s wet salt sludge, where it hit a ground wave at around 200 mph (320 km/h) and was catapulted through the air into a brine pond where it landed on its right side and eventually sank. Again, pilot Victor Barchenkov remained mostly unharmed and was able to leave the car before it sank – but this fatal crash meant the end of the „скорость“ vehicle and the complete KhAGI 9-II project. Furthermore, the break-up of the Soviet Union at the same time prevented and further developments of high speed vehicles. The whereabouts of the „скорость“ wreck remain unclear, too, since no official attempt had been made to save the vehicle’s remains from Lake Baskunchak’s salt swamps.

The kit and its assembly:

This is another contribution to the late 2018 “Racing & Competition Group Build” at whatifmodelers.com. Since I primarily build aircraft in 1:72 scale, building a land speed record (LSR) vehicle from such a basis appeared like a natural choice. A slick streamliner? A rocket-powered prototype with Mach 1 potential? Hmmm… However, I wanted something else than the typical US or British Bonneville Salt Flats contender.

Inspiration struck when I remembered the real world high speed vehicle projects of LSA ChAGI in the former USSR, and especially the ill-fated, jet-powered ChADI 9, which looked a lot like Western, rocket-powered absolute LSR designs like The Blue Flame or Wingfoot Express 2. Another inspiration was a contemporary LSR vehicle called North American Eagle – basically a wingless F-104 Starfighter, put on wheels and sporting a garish, patriotic livery.

With this conceptual basis, the MiG-21 was quickly identified as the potential starting basis – but I wanted more than just a Fishbed sans wings and with some bigger wheels attached to it. I nevertheless wanted to retain the basic shape of the aircraft, but change the rest as good as possible with details that I have learned from reading about historic LSR vehicles (a very good source are the books by German author and LSR enthusiast Ferdinand C. W. Käsmann, which have, AFAIK, even been translated into English).

At the model’s core is a contemporary KP MiG-21MF, but it’s a hideous incarnation of the venerable Kovozávody Prostějov mold. While the wheels and the dashboard of this kit were surprisingly crisp, the fuselage halves did hardly match each other and some other parts like the landing gear covers could only be described as “blurred blobs”. Therefore it was no shame to slice the kit up, and the resulting kitbash with many donor parts and scratching almost became a necessity.

The MiG-21 fuselage and cockpit were more or less retained, the landing gear wells covered and PSR-ed. Fin, spine and the ventral stabilizer were cut away, and the attachment points for the wings and the horizontal stabilizers blended into the rest of the fuselage. Actually, only a few parts from the KP MiG-21 were eventually used.

The original shock cone in the air intake was used, but it was set further back into the nose opening – as an attachment point for a new, more organic shock cone which is actually the rear end of a drop tank from an Airfix 1:72 P-61 Black Widow. This detail was inspired by a real world benchmark: Art Arfons’ home-built “Green Monster” LSR car. This vehicle also inspired the highly modified air intake shape, which was scratched from the tail cone from a Matchbox 1:72 Blackburn Buccaneer – the diameter matched well with the MiG-21’s nose! With the new nose, I was able to retain the original MiG-21 layout, yet the shape and the extension forward changed the overall look enough to make it clear that this was not simply a MiG-21 on wheels.

With the spine gone, I also had to integrate a different, much smaller canopy, which came from an 1:144 Tornado. The cockpit opening had to be narrowed accordingly, and behind the canopy a new spine fairing was integrated – simply a piece from a streamlined 1:72 1.000 lb bomb plus lots of PSR.

Inside of the cockpit, a simpler seat was used, but the original cockpit tub and the dashboard were retained.

The large MiG-21 fin was replaced with a smaller piece, left over from an Amodel Kh-20 missile, with a scratched brake parachute fairing (cut from sprue material) placed under its rear. The exhaust nozzle was replaced, too, because the fit of the KP MiG-21’s rear end was abysmal. So I cut away a short piece and added an afterburner nozzle from a vintage 1:72 F-100, which fits well. Inside, the part’s rear wall was drilled open and extended inwards with a styrene tube.

The wheels of the vehicle come from an 1:72 Hasegawa “Panther with Schmalturm” tank kit – it comes not only with two turrets, but also with a second set of simplified track wheels. These had IMHO the perfect size and shape as massive aluminum wheels for the high speed vehicle.

For the front wheels, I used the thinner outer Panther wheels, and they were put, closely together, onto a central suspension pylon. This received a new “well” in the forward fuselage, with an internal attachment point. In order to streamline the front wheel installation (and also to change the overall look of the vehicle away from the MiG-21 basis), I added a scratched an aerodynamic fairing around it. This was made from tailored styrene strips, which were later filled and blended into the hull with putty.

The rear suspension was also fully scratched: the outriggers were made from styrene profiles while the wheel attachments were once part of an 1:35 tank kit suspension – I needed something to hold the three struts per side together. These parts look a bit large, but the vehicle is, after all, a Soviet design, so a little sturdiness may not be wrong, and I simply did not want to stick the wheels directly onto the outriggers. The rear wheels (in this case, the wider inner Panther track wheels with a central hub cover were used) also received a stabilizing notch around the contact surface, in an attempt to make them look slimmer than they actually are.

Final touches included the chines under the nose as well as spoilers on the rear suspension (both made from styrene profiles), and I added a pitot made from wire to the original MiG-21 angle of attack sensor fairing.

As an addition outside the model itself I also created a display base for the beauty pics, since I did not have anything at hand that would resemble the vastness of a flat and dry salt sea. The base is an 18x12” MDF board, on top of which I added a thin coat of white tile grout (which I normally use as a snow placebo, instead of plaster, which tends to absorb humidity over time and to become yellow). While the stuff was still wet I sprinkled some real salt onto the surface and wetted the whole affair with water sprays – hoping to create a flat yet structured surface with some glitter reflexes. And it actually worked!

Painting and markings:

I am not certain how ChADI 9 was painted (I assume overall silver), but I wanted for „скорость“ a little more color. Being a child of the Soviet era, red was a settled design element, but I thought that an all-red vehicle might have looked too cheesy. Other colors I considered were orange or white with blue trim, but did not find them to be appropriate for what I was looking. Eventually, I added some Russian Utilitarianism in the form of light grey for the upper hull (Humbrol 166, RAF Light Aircraft Grey), and the red (Humbrol 19) as a dark contrast around the complete air intake as well as the shock cone (somewhat inspired by the Green Monster #15 LSR vehicle), and then extended backwards into a narrowing cheatline along the flanks, which emphasizes the vehicle’s slender hull. For some more contrast between the two basic tones I later added thin white borders between them created with 2mm white decal stripes from TL Modellbau. Around the hull some bright red (Humbrol 238 Red Arrows Red) highlights as warning signs were added.

The vehicle’s afterburner section was painted with Modelmaster Steel Metallizer, the Panther wheels became Aluminum (Revell 99) with a black ink wash. Some black ink was also applied to the jet nozzle, so that the details became more pronounced, and some grinded graphite was used to enhance the burnt metal effect.

Since this would rather be an experimental car built and operated by a high school institute, and also operated in the Soviet Union, flashy sponsor markings would not be appropriate. Therefore I created some fictional marking at home with the help of PC software and printed them by myself. These designs included a fictional logo of the ChADI institute itself (created from a car silhouette drawing) and a logo for the vehicle’s title, “„скорость““. The latter was created from the cyrillic lettering, with some additions like the vehicle’s silhouette.

Unfortunately the production process for the home-made decals did not work properly – when coating the prints with gloss acrylic varnish the printer ink started to dissolve, bleeding magenta, so that the decals would look as if there was a red halo or glow around the otherwise black motifs. Thanks to the use of red in the vehicle’s overall design this flaw is not too apparent, so I stuck with the outcome and applied the decals to the car.

Beyond these basic markings, many stencils were added, including dull red inscriptions from an Italeri MiG-37 “Ferret” kit – finally, I found an expedient use for them! The Soviet flags on the fin came from an 1:144 Tu-144 airliner Braz Decal aftermarket sheet.

Finally, some panel lines were drawn onto the hull with a soft pencil and then the model was sealed with Italeri semi-gloss acrylic varnish. Just the black anti-glare panel in front of the windscreen became matt and the metallic rear section was left in “natural” finish.

I am very pleased with the outcome – the „скорость“ looks purposeful and does IMHO blend well into the line of spectacular USA and UK jet/rocket car designs that broke the 800 km/h barrier. I also find that, even though the MiG-21 ancestry is certainly there, the vehicle looks different enough so that the illusion that it was designed along the jet fighter’s lines (and not converted from one, like the real world “North American Eagle” which was built from an F-104 Starfighter) works well. I also think that the vehicle’s livery works well – it looks quite retro for a vehicle from the late Eighties, but that just adds to the “Soviet style”. An interesting project, outside of my normal comfort zone. :D

Hero City: Voronezh.

From 10 to 17 September 2011, Voronezh celebrated its 425th anniversary. The anniversary of the city was given the status of a federal scale celebration that helped attract large investments from the federal and regional budgets for development. On December 17, 2012, Voronezh became the fifteenth city in Russia with a population of over one million people. Today Voronezh is the economic, industrial, cultural, and scientific center of the Central Black Earth Region. As part of the annual tradition in the Russian city of Voronezh, every winter the main city square is thematically drawn around a classic literature. In 2020, the city was decorated using the motifs from Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker. In the year of 2021, the architects drew inspiration from Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tale The Snow Queen as well as the animation classic The Snow Queen from the Soviet Union.

A personal consequence of BREXIT?

Haus Lange in Krefeld is an address of pilgrimage for architectural studies and those people interested in Ludwig Mies von der Rohe’s style setting early work. Splendid and ageless architecture and garden environment.

Most recently this building became a new home for BREXIT refugee family that felt no longer welcome in England. Has it really become ‘a home’? If you watch the series of photos I took you might feel shocked as I was when I first lingered thru the stylish rooms. The car was still packed. The door was open… I entered as invited, saw valuable furniture, most goods still in boxes, piles of books. The pantechnicon obviously just left. Also very obvious: The landlady, mother and wife also left and will stay absent: ‘You will never see me again’ written on the mirror. That wasn’t a good sign. I felt sorry.

Then to my utmost horror I found the host floating dead in the pool… A husband, a father: dead! And nobody seems to care!

Even more desperate the boy hiding in the dining room – his distressed body language seems to ask: Can this be my home? Where is my mother? Who is my mother? Where are my roots?

You may form your own opinion on this photo story – but being uprooted is the worst prerequisite for a new and positive start. Reasons are manifold. But if it comes to politics as a cause: Think before you vote, choose well whom you elect. It might affect your families’ life, too.

The artists Michael Elgreen and Ingar Dragset make us think with their fictive story and installation of an unhappy start in Haus Lange, Krefeld.

I as a photographer tried to transfer this mood and the atmosphere into 17 picture series ‘Die Zugezogenen’.

Krefeld, February 2017

Thomas Kopf

Pedestrian overpass closed

Barnet Marine Park,

Barnet, Port Moody, British Columbia, Canada

Without a thought of consequence

To my heart or to my mind

-Valerie Plame by The Decemberists

3/52

So over spring break I did a mission trip instead of going home so my parents decided that they would fly me home for Easter weekend so luckily I got to come back to warm ole Houston. It's been a really nice break but yesterday we celebrated Easter with my mom's family and me and my older brother are the only ones our age so we got bored and I made him drive us to this nature preserve and I took this picture. The whole time mosquitoes were biting us like crazy but I made the sacrifice and waited for like ten minutes posing while the self timer went off each round of shots haha. #sacrificeforart

I know this picture is a day early or so but I can't help it. When I decided to take a picture I just can't stop until I put it up on here. One picture a week is too little....maybe I might just start uploading a couple a week but only one counts towards my 52 weeks haha

HAPPY EASTER!

Also I launched my new website: here

500px | Tumblr | Twitter | Ask me anything | Facebook Page

You can find me on instagram at: tnick2

btw this looks much better on black so press L !

After biding goodbye to the strange girl, Seimei and Amadeo headed back home together. The latter firmly refused to hold hands despite Seimei's insistence. He felt bad enough as it was.

They didn’t speak at all, either.

The moment they finally reached their home, a small figure immediately latched itself on the half-demon.

"Mama!"

Seimei blushed, embarrassed.

"Ciel…! I’m always telling you, I'm not a girl...!" But his son’s adorable little pout made him melt, and all other argument just vanished from his mind. He sighed. "Oh well... mama it is. Come here, my sweetheart." And he craddled the boy in his arms, kissing the tip of his nose to make him giggle.

"Uncle Amy?" Ciel peeped from under his "mommy"'s long, dark locks. "Are you okay? You're not hurt.... right?"

The young vampire bit his lower lip. So even the little pest had been worried... great. Now he felt even worse.

"I'm alright." he said simply.

"Good." Ciel nodded, his pout never wavering. "Because… I wasn't worried or anything! I wasn’t! Not one bit, nope, I don’t care at all, you know!" Yeah, right. He didn’t even believe it himself.

The door suddenly swung open behind them, and Requiem entered. He too seemed out of breath. A look of relief crossed his features when his eyes fell on his little brother. But he quickly hid it, replacing it by cold anger.

“Your room. Now.”

Amadeo knew better than to disobey. He followed his brother to his room, and sat silently on the chair. He pressed the Death Note against his chest in a desperate attempt at keeping it concealed – he knew he was in for a good telling-off, and he certainly didn’t want to make matters worse.

Requiem knelt beside him.

“Sei.” he said. “Can you leave us for a moment, please?”

“Ok…” Seimei looked at Amadeo apologetically. “Don’t be too harsh on him... Please? I’m sure he meant no harm…”

But his lover made no sign of acknowledgment. So the demon-boy gave Amadeo one last reassuring smile, then walked away with Ciel.

That left the two brothers all alone…

“So…” Requiem’s tone was ice-cold, and Amadeo instinctively lowered his eyes. “Will you explain me why you had to run away without a word? And in the f*cking middle of the day?!”

The younger one shifted uncomfortably.

“I… I just needed some alone time.”

Requiem raised one eyebrow.

“What “alone time”? Being alone in your room isn’t enough, now? That’s no excuse! You’re hiding something, Amy, and I’m warning you, you’d better not lie to me!”

That was it. Amadeo just couldn’t keep it in anymore; he couldn’t bear his brother’s inquisitive look. He jumped from the chair.

“I wanted to kill your Seimei, okay?!” he snapped, shame, guilt, sadness all forgotten in his fit of anger. “I found that stupid book, a-and I thought about it for days, and I almost did it, almost, since I didn’t know what else I could do to have you look at me again!!!" He paused and breathed deeply. He felt as if a huge weight had being taken off his shoulders... "There. Hope you’re happy now.”

And throwing the Note at his brother’s feet, he ran to his dressing room and slammed the door shut.

Sixth part of Amadeo's story~

Aaah… adolescents and their existential crisis XD. My little vampire sure is hot-headed, but he’s not a bad kid! He just needs someone to cool him down~

To be continued…! :)

Fort Glanville.

The construction of Fort Glanville in 1878 and its completion in 1880 was a direct consequence of the Crimean War. Australian colonies saw a possible Russian invasion as a threat. In 1871 Russia established its Pacific Fleet at Vladivostok near Japan. Russian had imperial hopes. In that same year all British troops were withdrawn from all Australian colonies. Defence was seen as major issue. Russia had not accepted its defeat in the Crimean War easily and it sought to get control of the Black Sea from the Ottoman (Turkish) Empire and to regain lost territories or gain new ones. In the Russo-Turkish War of 1877-1878 the Russians defeated the Ottomans and drove them out of Eastern Europe (Serbia, Bulgaria, Romania etc.) after 500 years of Ottoman occupation. Europe felt threatened by this war and although Britain was not directly involved in the war Britain sent a fleet to protect Constantinople and intimidate the Russians and to make them accept a truce from the Ottoman Empire. That same year – 1878 – SA passed a defensive act to establish three coastal forts in case of Russian sea attacked at Glenelg, Semaphore and Largs Bay. In 1878 SA also passed the Military Forces Act to establish the first permanent armed forces. The governor of the day Sir William Jervois designed Fort Glanville with another British officer. A road was planned to link the three forts and was named appropriately Military Road. Glenelg fort was never built; the first completed fort was Glanville in 1880; and Largs Bay fort was completed in 1884. Much later Fort Largs became the SA Police training Academy and fort remains at that site. Not one shot was ever fired from forts Glanville or Largs Bay in defence. Fort Glanville was built in a crescent shaped with 220 cms concrete and brick walls and huge cannons with a firing range of 6,000 metres. The guns were pointed to the ocean. After it closed it was used for military detention, depression housing, scout accommodation etc. More recently Fort Glanville was declared a state park. Fort Glanville was designed to protect the jetty at Semaphore which was the main disembarking point for passengers and mail from Britain; Glenelg was designed to be an early warning fort; and Fort Largs was designed to protect the entry to the colony’s major port at Port Adelaide. Largs and Glanville closed in 1901 when the Commonwealth took over all responsibility for defence.

Behind the scenes photos on Facebook

Consequences . I first heard it when i was a kid . It was a vinyl 3 record box set and it was brilliant . I Have heard clips and sound bites from it in ads lately so searched this CD version and got it from Japan . Not quite the same but still BRILL!

Consequence of all the recent rain

"I URGE you as a professional NOT TO LICK BATTERIES or you will suffer consequences."

Lauren being a sexy-smoking, coffee-drinking student outside of the campus Media womb.

The last day of the AustralianLight trip to Croajingolong National Park in the East Gippsland area of Victoria.

The conditions had been lacklustre for the most part, with the possibility of going home without a single seascape image approaching reality. Thankfully though, on the last morning, the skies finally put on an epic show, as if to bid us a fond farewell.

Sadly, through the manic scramble of shooting two cameras, I managed to poorly secure my Lee Filter Holder + Singh Ray reverse grad to my other camera (the Fotoman 617). A short moment of not paying attention meant I got back to the camera and found it sans holders and filter. This shot had better be worth the loss :)

www.australianlight.com.au/galleries/latest_releases/cons...

Many tourist shops

Many counterfeiting (Murano Glass )

Campo dei Frari

Venezia

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©2012 All rights reserved.

A breach of copyright has legal consequences

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Nikon D90 + "16-85 f/3.5-5.6G ED VR"

Truth or Consequences ( T or C ) crews got the Fiesta banner up for the Fiesta that is held the first full weekend in May since 1950 when name was change from Hot Springs

.T or C is the county seat of Sierra County NM .

Just as economists should never be used to tell Australians what kind of society we “must” live in, medical scientists, and indeed climate scientists, should never be used to tell us what we “must” do.

The role of experts is to inform us about the likely consequences of our choices, but it is the role of our democratic representatives to make those choices.

For too long in Australia, economics has been used to tell Australians that we must cut taxes, we must cut working conditions and we must spend less on public services, if our economy is to be “competitive”. But, of course, we didn’t have to do anything of the sort.

Pros and cons: what are the exit strategies for Australia's coronavirus crisis?

Experts and academic jargon were used to narrow the options available to us on the democratic menu, and the result was both poor economic outcomes and a frustrated population. We must not make the same mistakes when talking about Covid-19 and the hard choices we face about “where to from here?”.

Medical science can tell us how to manage Covid-19’s spread through our community. And medical science is our only chance to develop either a cure or vaccine, which scientists say is at least 12 months away. But while medical science can tell us how to pursue such strategies, it cannot tell us which ones we “must” pursue. That question is one for us and our elected representatives.

Federal and state governments have, to date, done a great job of managing the spread of Covid-19. Where wealthy countries like the US and UK have seen cases and deaths tragically soar, Australia has largely contained the spread.

There have been deaths, but not a single person has died due to a lack of medical care— because we have contained the spread effectively enough that our intensive care wards aren’t over-full and our medical staff aren’t stretched to (complete) exhaustion.

Coronavirus will force Australia to make diabolical decisions – we must choose with care

Some mistakes were made and some decisions were poorly communicated but, overall, Australian leaders have responded quickly and effectively to the advice of our medical experts. As a result, Australia has succeeded in largely dodging the first bullet this pandemic sent our way.

But where to from here? If we want to ensure that no one catches Covid-19, our medical experts have shown us that they know how to deliver on that goal. We need to keep our borders closed, we need to stay at home as much as possible and we need to ensure there are no large gatherings of people. It’s not fun and it’s not cheap, but it works.

The question is, do we want to keep “crushing the curve” by keeping 25 million people locked in their homes, and out of their beaches and parks? That’s not a medical question, it’s a democratic one. The sooner we acknowledge that, the better our democratic debate will be. We don’t need to pit scientists against each other to resolve such a question, we need to pit arguments and options against each other.

Australians often choose to ignore experts, whether they be lawyers, economists, film critics, pollsters or medical doctors. If we always listened to economists, we wouldn’t just have a carbon tax, we could also have toll roads as far as the eye can see. If we always listened to lawyers, most people would never go to court. And if we always listened to doctors, we would have banned alcohol, tobacco and junk-food advertising decades ago. Medical science knows how to save a lot of lives, but it’s a democratic decision as to how much of that advice we should take.

The advice from medical experts says that, at best, a vaccine is 12 to 18 months away, and could come with potential side effects that are yet unknown. Australia can choose to keep all our borders, beaches and schools closed until a vaccine is found, but if we make that choice, we must do so knowing that such controls could continue indefinitely. No doctor or scientist can make that decision on our behalf.

Obviously, no one wants the horrific scenes from Italy and the US to be repeated here in Australia. While there are other paths besides locking the population down or letting the virus rip, there are obvious risks to exploring such unmarked trails.

Reasonable people looking at the same range of information will inevitably disagree on both how long we should stay locked down, and which unmarked trail to follow when we do take our first tentative steps away from the current restrictions.

But, like it or not, those questions will need to be asked and answered in the coming weeks. We must admit that while sheltering in our homes and locking up our borders has helped drive the spread of the virus down towards zero, hiding from the world and each other for another 12 months will not make us “stronger” or “more resilient”. It will just make us more stressed, isolated and impoverished.

We need to live restricted lives for at least six months – police-enforced lockdowns are unnecessary

Australian governments have done a great job of avoiding the first wave of this pandemic. But their swift action based on the best science did not buy us safety, it bought us time. We now have the chance to use that time to make good, but likely not perfect, decisions about what we do next.

The benefits of domestic and international lockdowns need to be held up against the physical, psychological and economic costs to individuals and communities.

With no prospect of a vaccine for at least a year, it’s obvious that a rigorous approach to hand washing and social distancing needs to stay in place. But not all questions are that straightforward. For example:

Should restaurants stay shut for 12 months or should they allow tables of four or less to dine together?

Should non-essential retail stores stay shut for 12 months or should they allow limited numbers of customers in at any point in time?

Should airlines stay grounded for 12 months or should people be allowed to fly if they don’t sit next to a stranger?

Should schools stay shut for 12 months or should they open with strict social distancing between students and teachers?

Just as there is no “right answer” to how fast we should let people drive, there is no right answer to which activities are too risky in the age of Covid-19. Medical science can tell us how to prevent the spread of a disease, but it can’t tell us how much risk we should take. And while there is no right way to judge how much risk is too much risk, there are better and worse ways to have democratic debates about such decisions.

We need to be open and honest about the role of evidence, the role of democracy, and the limits of both. Just as scientists will disagree about which are the most important restrictions to keep or remove, so too will our politicians disagree about which experts to listen to. It was ever thus, but that didn’t stop us from curtailing smoking, drink driving and measles.

Sadly, the debate about climate change science and policy has ruined much of Australia’s faith in democratic problem solving. It’s an understatement to suggest that when it comes to the role of fossil fuels in heating our planet, there has been too much politics and not enough evidence.

But just as it made no sense to politicise the science of climate change, it makes no sense to politicise the science of Covid-19. Just as there is no “right” amount of climate change to cause, there is no “right” amount of COVID-19 to allow to spread through the community. While many climate scientists have argued that we should limit global warming to 1.5C above pre-industrial levels, that number isn’t chiselled in stone. It’s a democratic compromise, not a scientific fact.

From a risk point of view, 1.6C would be better than 2C (and 1.3C would be even better still). But while the science around what happens if we continue to increase greenhouse gas emissions into the atmosphere is clear, the science of choosing the right amount of risk has never been, and never will be, crystal clear.

The same issue now confronts us with Covid-19. As with climate change, the safest number to aim for is zero. But as with climate change, many people don’t think that it is necessary or desirable, or even possible, to aim that low.

Until a vaccine is invented, we are going to need to have a very hard, very important conversation about how much risk to accept from Covid-19. The science will not be crystal clear, there will be differing views from well informed people and hard choices will need to be made, often in real time, regardless of how uncertain the consequences of those choices are. Hopefully, when debating these questions, we can treat the scientists with respect and cut our politicians a little slack.

When we are finished with this crisis, maybe we can take a fresh look at the fact that in the 30 years since Australia first agreed to reduce its greenhouse gas emissions, we have nearly doubled the amount of coal and oil we burn, saying it is “uneconomic” to do otherwise.

… just when we need it the most. Millions of readers around the world are flocking to the Guardian in search of honest, authoritative, fact-based reporting that can help them understand the biggest challenge we have faced in our lifetime. But at this crucial moment, news organisations are facing an unprecedented existential challenge. As businesses everywhere feel the pinch, the advertising revenue that has long helped sustain our journalism continues to plummet. We need your help to fill the gap.

We believe every one of us deserves equal access to vital public service journalism. So, unlike many others, we made a different choice: to keep Guardian journalism open for all, regardless of where they live or what they can afford to pay. This would not be possible without financial contributions from those who can afford to pay, who now support our work from 180 countries around the world.

We have upheld our editorial independence in the face of the disintegration of traditional media – with social platforms giving rise to misinformation, the seemingly unstoppable rise of big tech and independent voices being squashed by commercial ownership. The Guardian’s independence means we can set our own agenda and voice our own opinions. Our journalism is free from commercial and political bias – never influenced by billionaire owners or shareholders. This makes us different. It means we can challenge the powerful without fear and give a voice to those less heard.

Reader financial support has meant we can keep investigating, disentangling and interrogating. It has protected our independence, which has never been so critical. We are so grateful.

We need your support so we can keep delivering quality journalism that’s open and independent. And that is here for the long term. Every reader contribution, however big or small, is so valuable.

www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/apr/15/how-long-th...

St Andrew and St Patrick, Elveden, Suffolk

As you approach Elveden, there is Suffolk’s biggest war memorial, to those killed from the three parishes that meet at this point. It is over 30 metres high, and you used to be able to climb up the inside. Someone in the village told me that more people have been killed on the road in Elveden since the end of the War than there are names on the war memorial. I could well believe it. Until about five years ago, the busy traffic of the A11 Norwich to London road hurtled through the village past the church, slowed only to a ridiculously high 50 MPH. If something hits you at that speed, then no way on God's Earth are you going to survive. Now there's a bypass, thank goodness.

Many people will know St Andrew and St Patrick as another familiar landmark on the road, but as you are swept along in the stream of traffic you are unlikely to appreciate quite how extraordinary a building it is. For a start, it has two towers. And a cloister. And two naves, effectively. It has undergone three major building programmes in the space of thirty years, any one of which would have sufficed to transform it utterly.

If you had seen this church before the 1860s, you would have thought it nothing remarkable. A simple aisle-less, clerestory-less building, typical of, and indistinguishable from, hundreds of other East Anglian flint churches. A journey to nearby Barnham will show you what I mean.

The story of the transformation of Elveden church begins in the early 19th century, on the other side of the world. The leader of the Sikhs, Ranjit Singh, controlled a united Punjab that stretched from the Khyber Pass to the borders of Tibet. His capital was at Lahore, but more importantly it included the Sikh holy city of Amritsar. The wealth of this vast Kingdom made him a major power-player in early 19th century politics, and he was a particular thorn in the flesh of the British Imperial war machine. At this time, the Punjab had a great artistic and cultural flowering that was hardly matched anywhere in the world.

It was not to last. The British forced Ranjit Singh to the negotiating table over the disputed border with Afghanistan, and a year later, in 1839, he was dead. A power vacuum ensued, and his six year old son Duleep Singh became a pawn between rival factions. It was exactly the opportunity that the British had been waiting for, and in February 1846 they poured across the borders in their thousands. Within a month, almost half the child-Prince's Kingdom was in foreign hands. The British installed a governor, and started to harvest the fruits of their new territory's wealth.

Over the next three years, the British gradually extended their rule, putting down uprisings and turning local warlords. Given that the Sikh political structures were in disarray, this was achieved at considerable loss to the invaders - thousands of British soldiers were killed. They are hardly remembered today. British losses at the Crimea ten years later were much slighter, but perhaps the invention of photography in the meantime had given people at home a clearer picture of what was happening, and so the Crimea still remains in the British folk memory.

For much of the period of the war, Prince Duleep Singh had remained in the seclusion of his fabulous palace in Lahore. However, once the Punjab was secure, he was sent into remote internal exile.

The missionaries poured in. Bearing in mind the value that Sikh culture places upon education, perhaps it is no surprise that their influence came to bear on the young Prince, and he became a Christian. The extent to which this was forced upon him is lost to us today.

A year later, the Prince sailed for England with his mother. He was admitted to the royal court by Queen Victoria, spending time both at Windsor and, particularly, in Scotland, where he grew up. In the 1860s, the Prince and his mother were significant members of London society, but she died suddenly in 1863. He returned with her ashes to the Punjab, and there he married. His wife, Bamba Muller, was part German, part Ethiopian. As part of the British pacification of India programme, the young couple were granted the lease on a vast, derelict stately home in the depths of the Suffolk countryside. This was Elveden Hall. He would never see India again.

With some considerable energy, Duleep Singh set about transforming the fortunes of the moribund estate. Being particularly fond of hunting (as a six year old, he'd had two tutors - one for learning the court language, Persian, and the other for hunting to hawk) he developed the estate for game. The house was rebuilt in 1870.

The year before, the Prince had begun to glorify the church so that it was more in keeping with the splendour of his court. This church, dedicated to St Andrew, was what now forms the north aisle of the present church. There are many little details, but the restoration includes two major features; firstly, the remarkable roof, with its extraordinary sprung sprung wallposts set on arches suspended in the window embrasures, and, secondly, the font, which Mortlock tells us is in the Sicilian-Norman style. Supported by eight elegant columns, it is very beautiful, and the angel in particular is one of Suffolk's loveliest. You can see him in an image on the left.

Duleep Singh seems to have settled comfortably into the role of an English country gentleman. And then, something extraordinary happened. The Prince, steeped in the proud tradition of his homeland, decided to return to the Punjab to fulfill his destiny as the leader of the Sikh people. He got as far as Aden before the British arrested him, and sent him home. He then set about trying to recruit Russian support for a Sikh uprising, travelling secretly across Europe in the guise of an Irishman, Patrick Casey. In between these times of cloak and dagger espionage, he would return to Elveden to shoot grouse with the Prince of Wales, the future King Edward VII. It is a remarkable story.

Ultimately, his attempts to save his people from colonial oppression were doomed to failure. He died in Paris in 1893, the British seemingly unshakeable in their control of India. He was buried at Elveden churchyard in a simple grave.

The chancel of the 1869 church is now screened off as a chapel, accessible from the chancel of the new church, but set in it is the 1894 memorial window to Maharaja Prince Duleep Singh, the Adoration of the Magi by Kempe & Co.

And so, the Lion of the North had come to a humble end. His five children, several named after British royal princes, had left Elveden behind; they all died childless, one of them as recently as 1957. The estate reverted to the Crown, being bought by the brewing family, the Guinnesses.

Edward Cecil Guinness, first Earl Iveagh, commemorated bountifully in James Joyce's 1916 Ulysses, took the estate firmly in hand. The English agricultural depression had begun in the 1880s, and it would not be ended until the Second World War drew the greater part of English agriculture back under cultivation. It had hit the Estate hard. But Elveden was transformed, and so was the church.

Iveagh appointed William Caroe to build an entirely new church beside the old. It would be of such a scale that the old church of St Andrew would form the south aisle of the new church. The size may have reflected Iveagh's visions of grandeur, but it was also a practical arrangement, to accommodate the greatly enlarged staff of the estate. Attendance at church was compulsory; non-conformists were also expected to go, and the Guinnesses did not employ Catholics.

Between 1904 and 1906, the new structure went up. Mortlock recalls that Pevsner thought it 'Art Nouveau Gothic', which sums it up well. Lancet windows in the north side of the old church were moved across to the south side, and a wide open nave built beside it. Curiously, although this is much higher than the old and incorporates a Suffolk-style roof, Caroe resisted the temptation of a clerestory. The new church was rebenched throughout, and the woodwork is of a very high quality. The dates of the restoration can be found on bench ends up in the new chancel, and exploring all the symbolism will detain you for hours. Emblems of the nations of the British Isles also feature in the floor tiles.

The new church was dedicated to St Patrick, patron Saint of the Guinnesses' homeland. At this time, of course, Ireland was still a part of the United Kingdom, and despite the tensions and troubles of the previous century the Union was probably stronger at the opening of the 20th century than it had ever been. This was to change very rapidly. From the first shots fired at the General Post Office in April 1916, to complete independence in 1922, was just six years. Dublin, a firmly protestant city, in which the Iveaghs commemorated their dead at the Anglican cathedral of St Patrick, became the capital city of a staunchly Catholic nation. The Anglicans, the so-called Protestant Ascendancy, left in their thousands during the 1920s, depopulating the great houses, and leaving hundreds of Anglican parish churches completely bereft of congregations. Apart from a concentration in the wealthy suburbs of south Dublin, there are hardly any Anglicans left in the Republic today. But St Patrick's cathedral maintains its lonely witness to long years of British rule; the Iveagh transept includes the vast war memorial to WWI dead, and all the colours of the Irish regiments - it is said that 99% of the Union flags in the Republic are in the Guinness chapel of St Patrick's cathedral. Dublin, of course, is famous as the biggest city in Europe without a Catholic cathedral. It still has two Anglican ones.

Against this background then, we arrived at Elveden. The church is uncomfortably close to the busy road, but the sparkle of flint in the recent rain made it a thing of great beauty. The main entrance is now at the west end of the new church. The surviving 14th century tower now forms the west end of the south aisle, and we will come back to the other tower beyond it in a moment.

You step into a wide open space under a high, heavy roof laden with angels. There is a wide aisle off to the south; this is the former nave, and still has something of that quality. The whole space is suffused with gorgeously coloured light from excellent 19th and 20th century windows. These include one by Frank Brangwyn, at the west end of the new nave. Andrew and Patrick look down from a heavenly host on a mother and father entertaining their children and a host of woodland animals by reading them stories. It is quite the loveliest thing in the building.

Other windows, mostly in the south aisle, are also lovely. Hugh Easton's commemorative window for the former USAAF base at Elveden is magnificent. Either side are windows to Iveaghs - a gorgeous George killing a dragon, also by Hugh Easton, and a curious 1971 assemblage depicting images from the lives of Edward Guinness's heir and his wife, which also works rather well. The effect of all three windows together is particularly fine when seen from the new nave.

Turning ahead of you to the new chancel, there is the mighty alabaster reredos. It cost £1,200 in 1906, about a quarter of a million in today’s money. It reflects the woodwork, in depicting patron Saints and East Anglian monarchs, around a surprisingly simple Supper at Emmaus. This reredos, and the Brangwyn window, reminded me of the work at the Guinness’s other spiritual home, St Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, which also includes a window by Frank Brangwyn commisioned by them. Everything is of the highest quality. Rarely has the cliché ‘no expense spared’ been as accurate as it is here.

Up at the front, a little brass plate reminds us that Edward VII slept through a sermon here in 1908. How different it must have seemed to him from the carefree days with his old friend the Maharajah! Still, it must have been a great occasion, full of Edwardian pomp, and the glitz that only the fabulously rich can provide. Today, the church is still splendid, but the Guinesses are no longer fabulously rich, and attendance at church is no longer compulsory for estate workers; there are far fewer of them anyway. The Church of England is in decline everywhere; and, let us be honest, particularly so in this part of Suffolk, where it seems to have retreated to a state of siege. Today, the congregation of this mighty citadel is as low as half a dozen. The revolutionary disappearance of Anglican congregations in the Iveagh's homeland is now being repeated in a slow, inexorable English way.

You wander outside, and there are more curiosities. Set in the wall are two linked hands, presumably a relic from a broken 18th century memorial. They must have been set here when the wall was moved back in the 1950s. In the south chancel wall, the bottom of an egg-cup protrudes from among the flints. This is the trademark of the architect WD Caroe. To the east of the new chancel, Duleep Singh’s gravestone is a very simple one. It is quite different in character to the church behind it. A plaque on the east end of the church remembers the centenary of his death.

Continuing around the church, you come to the surprise of a long cloister, connecting the remodelled chancel door of the old church to the new bell tower. It was built in 1922 as a memorial to the wife of the first Earl Iveagh. Caroe was the architect again, and he installed eight bells, dedicated to Mary, Gabriel, Edmund, Andrew, Patrick, Christ, God the Father, and the King. The excellent guidebook recalls that his intention was for the bells to be cast to maintain the hum and tap tones of the renowned ancient Suffolk bells of Lavenham... thus the true bell music of the old type is maintained.

This church is magnificent, obviously enough. It has everything going for it, and is a national treasure. And yet, it has hardly any congregation. So, what is to be done?

If we continue to think of rural historic churches as nothing more than outstations of the Church of England, it is hard to see how some of them will survive. This church in particular has no future in its present form as a village parish church. New roles must be found, new ways to involve local people and encourage their use. One would have thought that this would be easier here than elsewhere.

The other provoking thought was that this building summed up almost two centuries of British imperial adventure, and that we lived in a world that still suffered from the consequences. It is worth remembering where the wealth that rebuilt St Andrew and St Patrick came from.

As so often in British imperial history, interference in other peoples’ problems and the imposition of short-term solutions has left massive scars and long-cast shadows. For the Punjab, as in Ireland, there are no simple solutions. Sheer proximity has, after several centuries of cruel and exploitative involvement, finally encouraged the British government to pursue a solution in Ireland that is not entirely based on self-interest. I fear that the Punjab is too far away for the British to care very much now about what they did there then.

Everything in life has a consequence. It's funny because a lot of people come into the military for discipline. We can't call in sick to work, we get separated from our families, you don't have a choice about getting vaccinations, your opinion gets quieted because you have to represent the whole and not yourself, you don't get to wear what you want to work, your job is dangerous, you can be called away on the "business trip" at a moments notice...I could keep going. But, the reality is you don't HAVE to do anything. There's a very direct reaction to it, but you truthfully can say no to anything listed above. I've gone back and forth, a couple of times on Flickr actually, about where my future lies in the military. I've been thinking more about it since things are going to change a lot for me in the next 6 months and I've had to start thinking about what I want out of my life. 8 years under my belt. **8** Do you guys realize it's already November? I mean time flies! The more I thought about it the more I realized I was so grateful for my experiences. Even if things hadn't turned out the way I expected I seriously wouldn't be the person I am today without these stripes. I am making plans for tomorrow but I will never forget about yesterday, or the day before. And while there's plenty to complain about the truth is it could always be worse. That entire list may have been things I was sort of in awe about when I first came in but now their just second nature. When I'm told I have to get the flu shot I just drag my happy ass to immunizations and endure the sickness. There can be a serious inconvenience with any job but today I'm totally okay with it because of all the great things that come with it. Living in California for the past 8 years, enjoying no snow-unless I want it, creating some amazing friendships, traveling to other countries and living in their culture for 4 months, a reliable paycheck, working out of the elements, never having to worry about what to wear, and they pay for it, having the chance to defend my country, having a chance to defend my country's right to say what they want, I get to shoot a really awesome gun in two weeks, carrying on my family's military heritage...I could list more but I won't ;) I'm getting ready for work and then going to bed! See you guys in a few days!!

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30jn19_426

A tridimensional satellite view over the western coast of La Palma Island shows the consequences afteer more than 3 months of volcanic activity that radically change the geography of the island. Hotsposts of the lava flows are still visible, as well as emissions from the crater. Image acquired by Sentinel-2 satellite on Dec. 29

Olympus Pen D3, Ultrafine 400, ISO 800

"in-significant issue"

mar.abr.may2011

otoñosurprimaveranorte | ISBN 978-1-4457-9262-0

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(ñ)

in-significante

No ya las cosas sino el discurso de las cosas.

No ya la interacción con el objeto sino sólo con el discurso del objeto.

Ausencia de significados en un Imperio de significantes.

Update retórico: Discurso surfeador que no defiende ninguna postura, que sospecha.

Surfeador sin fondo, disecciones de un forense de los sentidos.

¿Sublimación de los lenguajes?

¿Deconstrucción apocalíptica?

¿Gestión de los desechos en el final del juego?

¿De qué hablamos cuando hablamos? ¿A qué hacemos referencia?

¿Sabe usted a qué me refiero?

El medio vuelto masaje.

Cuando el mensaje del medio es sólo el masaje del discurso.

Adicción masiva al soma diario de un discurso “renovado”, distractivo, sin consecuencias ni contenido, paradigmático en los mass-media y las redes sociales.

Las palabras y las cosas

Lo que se nombra y es nombrado, convenciones culturales, significante-significado-imagen acústica-etiquetas.

El canal como portador de ruido incontrolable…

¿Cada vez a más alto nivel (como se entiende esta fórmula en programación) y más lejos de los objetos y fenómenos?

###

(sh)

in-significant

Not even things but the discourse on things.

Not even interaction with the object but just with the discourse on the object.

Absence of significance in an Empire of signifiers.

Rhetorical update: Surfer discourse not defending any stance, just suspecting.

Bottomless surfer, dissections by a forensic surgeon of the senses.

Sublimation of languages?

Apocalyptic deconstruction?

Waste management at the end of the game?

What do we speak about when we speak? What do we refer to?

Do you know what I’m talking about?

The medium turned into massage.

When the message from the medium is just the massage of discourse.

Massive addiction to the daily soma of a “renewed” discourse, a distracting one, without consequences or content, paradigmatic on mass-media and social networks.

Words and things.

What names and is named, cultural conventions, significance-signifier-jingle-label.

Channel as the bearer of uncontrollable noise.

At a higher level every day (as this formula is understood in programming) and further from objects and phenomena?

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(ç)

in-signifiant

Pas même les choses, mais le discours sur les choses.

Pas même l’interaction avec l’objet, mais seulement le discours sur l’objet.

Absence de signification dans un empire de signifiants.

Mise à jour rhétorique: le discours a-revendicatif de l’internaute, seulement soupçonneux.

Internaute sans fond, dissection par un médecin légiste du sens.

Sublimation des langues ?

Déconstruction apocalyptique ?

La gestion des déchets à la fin du jeu ?

De quoi parlons-nous lorsque nous parlons ? A quoi faisons-nous référence ?

Savez-vous de quoi je veux parler ?

Le message devenu massage.

Lorsque le message du medium n’est que le massage du discours.

Dépendance massive au soma quotidien d’un discours “rénové”, distrayant, sans conséquence ni contenu, paradigmatique de media de masse et de réseaux sociaux.

Les mots et les choses.

Ce qui nomme et est nommé, conventions culturels, signification-signifiant-bruitage-étiquette ?

Canal en tant que colporteur de bruits incontrôlables.

Toujours plus haut chaque jour (telle que cette formule est entendue en programmation) et de tant d’autres à partir d’objets et de phénomènes?

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edit(ing), direct(ing) & complements_

fernando prats

art direct(ing) & design(ing)_

estudi prats

colacao & ordenaciones_

rivera valdez

biotranslat(ing) & reflejos_

alicia pallas

(h)original music_

albert jordà / nevus project

(h)original video_

raquel barrera sutorra

front cover(ing) index_ players

open(ing) in-troduction_ alain vaissiere

clos(ing) macbeth_ leonie polah

back(c)over(ing) discourse_ thomas hagström

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hernán dardes

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oriol espinal

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thomas hagström

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jorge montecof

graciela oses

alicia pallas

leonie polah

fernando prats

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nirvana sq

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dou_ble_you

from...

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london

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German postcard by Ross Verlag, no. 1020/1, 1927-1928. Photo: Oertel, Berlin. Asta Nielsen in Die freudlose gasse / The Joyless Street (G.W. Pabst, 1925). Dutch artist Pyke Koch used photos like the one on this card for his portrait of Asta Nielsen (1929).

Danish silent film actress Asta Nielsen (1881-1972) was one of the most popular leading ladies of the 1910s and one of the first international film stars. Of her 74 films between 1910 and 1932, seventy were made in Germany, where she was known simply as 'Die Asta'. Noted for her large dark eyes, mask-like face, and boyish figure, Nielsen most often portrayed strong-willed, passionate women trapped by tragic consequences.

Asta Sofie Amalie Nielsen was born in the Copenhagen suburb of Vesterbro, Denmark, in 1881. She was the daughter of an often-unemployed blacksmith and a washerwoman. Nielsen's family moved several times during her childhood while her father sought employment. When she was fourteen years old, her father died. Asta's stage debut came as a child in the chorus of the Kongelige Teater's production of Boito's opera 'Mephistopheles'. At the age of eighteen, Nielsen was accepted into the drama school of the Royal Danish Theatre. During her time there, she studied with the Royal Danish actor Peter Jerndorff. In 1901, twenty years old, she became pregnant and gave birth to her daughter, Jesta. Nielsen never revealed the identity of the father, and chose to raise her child alone with the help of her mother and older sister. In 1902, she graduated from drama school. For the next three years, she worked at the Dagmar Theatre, then toured in Norway and Sweden from 1905 to 1907 with De Otte and the Peter Fjelstrup companies. Returning to Denmark, she was employed at Det Ny Theater (The New Theatre) from 1907 to 1910. Although she worked steadily as a stage actress, her performances remained unremarkable. Danish historian Robert Neiiedam wrote that Nielsen's unique physical attraction, which was of great value on the screen, was limited on stage by her deep and uneven speaking voice.

In 1909, set designer and director Urban Gad encouraged Asta Nielsen to become a film actress and she starred in his Danish silent film Afgrunden/The Abyss (Urban Gad, 1910). Gary Morris observes in Bright Lights Film Journal: "this film established from the beginning key components of her legend: scandalous eroticism and a uniquely minimalist acting style." Asta plays a music teacher lured away from her stolid fiancee (Robert Dinesen) by a sexy but faithless circus cowboy (Poul Reumert). In a startling sequence of sexual intensity, she lassos her boyfriend and does a lewd dance, bumping and grinding against him. Morris: "This vulgar ‘gaucho-dance’ was what most viewers remembered, but critics of the time also applauded Asta's naturalistic acting." The film was a huge success so she was encouraged to continue. The following year Balletdanserinden/The Ballet Dancer (August Blom, 1911) proved to be another success. Nielsen and Gad soon married. A German distributor, Paul Davidson, invited Nielsen to Germany, where he was building a new studio. Eventually, this would become Europe's largest film studio - the Universum Film Union A.-G. (or Ufa). Asta signed a contract for $80,000 a year, then the highest salary for a film actress. In 1911, she moved to Berlin with Urban Gad. In a Russian popularity poll of that year, she was voted world's top female film star, behind French comedian Max Linder and ahead of her Danish compatriot Valdemar Psilander.

In the next six years, Asta Nielsen played every conceivable kind of character in both tragedies and comedies. In Die Suffragette/The Militant Suffragette (Urban Gad, 1913), she is an English female liberationist whose beliefs force her to become violent, placing a bomb in Parliament. In Zapatas Bande/Zapata's Gang (Urban Gad, 1916), she plays a highway robber. In the comedy Das Liebes-ABC/The ABCs of Love (Magnus Stifter, 1916), she pretends to be a man and takes her wimpy boyfriend out on the town in order to "bring out the man in him." Nielsen was so famous that the name Asta became a trademark for cigarettes and perfumes. In the Dutch city The Hague, a cinema was named after her. Her beauty was praised by the poet Guillaume Apollinaire as "the drunkard's vision and the lonely man's dream". One of Asta's most interesting productions was Hamlet (Sven Gade, Heinz Schall, 1921). Gary Morris: "Asta brings a subtle twist to her version not by playing a man, but by playing a woman disguised as a man, adding another level of gender complexity. Hamlet was based less on William Shakespeare than on a popular book of the time that said Hamlet was actually a girl forcibly raised as a boy in order to provide an heir to the Danish throne. At first, the effect is more puzzling than effective, but the actress's strategy becomes evident in sexually charged scenes between Asta/Hamlet and Horatio, who caress and coddle each other in what surely appeared to viewers of the time (as it does to modern audiences) as a gay tryst. Asta brilliantly imparts the gender-unstable nature of the character in these scenes with Horatio and others with Fortinbras, whose encounters with Hamlet are also clearly coded as gay. The actress's effortless creation of these subtle, sympathetic homosexual tableaux gives a tremendous vitality to this production. The fact that the film was truly hers — being the first film she made with her own production company — shows just how daring and modern she was."

Nowadays Asta Nielsen is best known for Die Freudlose Gasse/The Joyless Street (G.W. Pabst, 1925). Asta plays in this film an impoverished woman who resorts to prostitution and murder. In the original prints there were two equal-time female leads: Nielsen and a young actress from Sweden, Greta Garbo. Ruthlessly cut for American release, the film suddenly became a Garbo vehicle. Fortunately, the print has been restored recently and Asta triumphs in it as the increasingly unbalanced Marie. Nielsen continued to be a screen legend in Germany, and appeared in films like Dirnentragödie/Tragedy of the Street (Bruno Rahn, 1927) and in her only sound film Unmögliche Liebe/Crown of Thorns (Erich Waschneck, 1932). After the Nazis came to power she was rumoured to be offered her own studio by propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels. Understanding the implications well, she left Germany for good in 1936, settling in Denmark where she returned to stage acting and became a private figure. In her later years, Asta Nielsen wrote articles on art and politics and a two-volume autobiography, 'Den tiende Muse' (The Silent Muse) in 1946. She also became an acclaimed collage artist. In 1964, Nielsen had to come to terms with the most severe blow of her life: her daughter Jesta committed suicide following the death of her husband. At 86, Asta directed her first film. Luise F. Pusch writes in FemBio: "After a film about her life did not meet with her approval, she set to work on the project herself. The result was a work of art." At 88, Asta Nielsen married her third husband, Christian Theede, an art dealer 18 years her junior and the great love of her life. The two enjoyed their travels together so much that they decided to leave their fortune to a foundation to fund trips for the elderly. In 1972, Asta Nielsen died in Copenhagen after a leg fracture. She was 90.

Sources: Gary Morris (Bright Lights Film Journal), Luise F. Pusch (FemBio), Jim Beaver (IMDb), Wikipedia, and IMDb.

And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.

**This first paragraph is a consequence of information naming this building as the Mosquito Creek Hall. "Mosquito Creek was applied to a school south of Adelaide. This little government school is six miles from Langhorne's Creek on the main road to Wellington. It was opened in January 1913, has a roll number of under 20, but it has lately distinguished itself in a manner which has brought it prominently before the public. The Gould League for the protection of birds... yearly offers for competition among the schools a fine silver challenge cup for essays written on a tree and bird of any district. This year the winning essays were written by Annie Gardner, a pupil at the school. Mr Gregory Matthews, the renowned ornithologist... presented her with two beautiful books and the silver cup...

It closed in 1946. [Ref: Manning's Place Names of South Australia]

Mulgundawa is a locality on the north coast of Lake Alexandrina between Langhorne Creek and Wellington, South Australia.

Mulgundawa Inn was a popular stopping place during the gold rush of the 1850s. A school was built by 1882. The school was used for meetings and social events, many school fund-raising events and church was conducted there.

Australian Saltworks operates from the Mulgundawa Saltworks which is Australia’s oldest salt business. Salt harvesting at the company’s site commenced in the 1870s when salt was bagged and shipped from the Mulgundawa jetty by boat to Milang and then to market in Adelaide. Salt refining was well established on the site by the late 1890s.

Today Australian Saltworks operates solar salt fields in South Australia north of Lake Alexandrina near the mouth of the Murray River. The company is privately owned and has a history and reputation of reliable supply of quality solar salt products. [Ref: Australian Saltworks website]

September 1

The Mulgundawa jetty will very soon be out of the contractor's hands, but it will be very far from being available for the purpose for which it was intended. No tramway or truck (to say nothing of a crane) for conveying wheat &c, across the jetty to the boat: the metalled causeway to it neither blinded nor rolled: and, to crown all, the sides of the causeway have not the palpable necessary facing of stone to prevent the loose soil of which it is composed being washed away by high tides.

Nothing is more certain than if the sides of the embankment are not pitchpaved (I believe they call it), the way will become disintegrated by the wash of water during some of the gales which are not unfrequent here. In its present state it is anything but creditable to the foresight or resources of the Superintending Engineer or the magnates of the Public Works Department. [Ref: Southern Argus (Port Elliot SA) 4-9-1869]

Charles Johnston Knight arrived in South Australia from Scotland on the ‘Arab’ in 1843. He settled at Mulgundawa in 1856. He was one of the south’s earliest settlers. By 1910 he had retired and his sons John and Joseph managed the property.

The death is reported of Mr Charles Johnston Knight, of Mulgundawa, near Langhorne's Creek (South Australia).

He was 92 years of age and arrived in early manhood in South Australia. He was a noted breeder of Merino sheep, and in this connection was assisted by his two sons, John S and Joseph B Knight. [Ref: West Australian (Perth WA) Friday 23 July 1915]

School Board of Advice Strathalbyn August 11

The Minister to be informed …that the Mulgundawa School, as per map of school district, is not under the control of this board. [Ref: Southern Argus 16-8-1883]

May 13 - The Bremer last night at Langhorne's Bridge was over the banks. It has now gone down five or six feet. Eastward towards Mulgundawa the road was submerged for five or six feet, and today, in places, is for considerable distances under water. Mosquito Creek has a great flood, and though now somewhat subsided, is running strongly, in places a quarter of a mile wide, and flocks of ducks and teal are near the road. At Pott’s vast sheets of water are coming close to the house. There have been heavy rains and strong winds for several days about Wellington and the lake. [Ref: South Australian Advertiser 14-5-1884]

School Board of Advice - Notice received of Miss Skinner's resignation as provisional teacher at Mulgundawa School.

Board resolved to recommend that Mulgundawa school be included in Strathalbyn District. [Ref: Southern Argus 19-6-1884]

Provisional Teacher Harriet Dalton appointed to Mulgundawa. [Ref: Express and Telegraph (Adelaide) 13-12-1888]

The Marine Board

It was decided to approve the repairing of Milang jetty with material removed from Mulgundawa jetty. [Ref: Advertiser (Adelaide) 31-8-1894]

The late Mr H Daenke

Mr Daenke had been a resident of the Lake District for a long term of years, formerly conducting the Mulgundawa Hotel, and subsequently that at Langhorne's Creek, from which place he moved to Milang.

He had been associated with public matters during the whole of his residence in the south, occupying the position of district Councillor for a long term, and that of Chairman of the Bremer Council for several years, holding that Office at the time of his death. He was a Justice of Peace. [Ref; Southern Argus (Port Elliot) 9-7-1896]

A Rival - A new industry—that of salt-refining—is being established at Mulgundawa, (says the Mount Barker paper) where Messrs Templer and Benson are erecting works. The lagoons along the lake shores at this place are said to contain immense quantities of salt of excellent quality, and hopes are entertained of the industry becoming a large and profitable one. [Ref: Pioneer (Yorketown) 11-3-1898]

A lantern entertainment given on Saturday evening, June 11th, in the Mulgundawa schoolroom was a source of much pleasure and interest to the inhabitants scattered over this isolated district, there being a very good attendance. [Ref: Southern Argus (Port Elliot) 16-6-1898]

Stopped for the season

The Salt Company at Mulgundawa (writes the Langhorne's Creek correspondent to the "Register") have left off scraping for the season. They are of opinion that they have enough salt out to keep them going for a while. About fourteen men were paid off last week. [Ref: Pioneer (Yorketown) 10-3-1899]

£1 1s voted towards demonstration and entertainment of school children at Mulgundawa school on coronation day. [Ref: Southern Argus (Port Elliot) 19-6-1902]

A successful concert and social were given here on Friday evening last. The programme consisted of tableaux, songs, recitations, and dialogues by the school children.

Supper was provided by the ladies, and afterwards dancing was indulged in. A collection taken in aid of "Minda" amounted to £1 10/. [Ref: Advertiser (Adelaide) 15-11-1902]

On Monday morning, says the Southern Argus (Strathalbyn), Mr Charles Besley, who is in charge of the salt works at Mulgundawa, met with a painful accident, his right hand getting caught in the cog wheels of one of the machines. [Ref: Advertiser (Adelaide) 7-8-1903]

Provisional Teacher Ethel M Warner appointed Mulgundawa – On probation under regulation 295. [Ref: Adelaide Observer 26-11-1904]

Another Railway suggested

Langhorne’s Creek, August 30. A largely attended meeting was held this evening in the Oddfellows' Hall, to consider the question of a branch railway from Murray Bridge to Victor Harbour, passing through the districts of Mulgundawa, Langhorne's Creek, and Belvidere, to some point on the Port Victor line. Mr J Cheriton (Chairman of the Bremer Council) presided over the meeting, which included representatives from Mulgundawa, Angas Plains, Lake Plains, Belvidere, and Strathalbyn. [Ref; Register (Adelaide) 1-9-1909]

The permanent railway commission are today to visit the Mulgundawa country, driving from Murray Bridge over the suggested route of railway, and taking evidence. At Mulgundawa they will be met by motors and brought via Langhorne's Creek to Strathalbyn. [Ref: Southern Argus 12-6-1913]

*Unfortunately this railway did not eventuate.

Last week George Rednap was working as a labourer on a farm at Mulgundawa for a weekly wage: today he is worth £5,000 and will shortly be on his way to Cornwall. Two years ago he decided to search for a fortune in Australia.

Recently he bought a ticket in a Tattersall's Sweep, and it drew the first horse and £5000. He is supporting his widowed mother and is a quiet, steady fellow. His employer (Mr Schenscher) speaks highly of him. His mother has been asking him to return home for some time, and he states that he will now be able to gratify her wish. [Ref: Mount Barker Courier and Onkaparinga and Gumeracha Advertiser (SA)17-2-1911]

Late Private F Winter

Mr and Mrs Richard Winter, of Langhorne's Creek, have been advised of the death from wounds of their eldest son, Private Frank Winter.

Private Winter, who died on November 18 at the 38th Clearing Station in Belgium, was 26 years of age. He was born at Langhorne's Creek and spent most of his boyhood on Nalpa Station near Wellington. He was educated at the Mulgundawa and Flaxley schools. [Ref: Chronicle (Adelaide) 9-12-1916]

Late Sgt A Winter

Sgt A Winter was killed in action in France on April 26, was the second son of Mr and Mrs R Winter, of Langhorne’s Creek. He was born at Nalpa Station, near Wellington, and received his education at the Mulgundawa and Flaxley Schools.

He enlisted on March 5, 1915, and left for Egypt, in the following June, with reinforcements of the 10th Battalion. After a brief sojourn in Egypt he was sent to Gallipoli where he contracted measles and enteritis.

He was returned Alexandria. Early in the new year his brother joined him, and both were transferred into the same battalion. After spending a few months in the desert they departed for France, at the end of May, 1916.

Of three sons who enlisted, two have made the supreme sacrifice. [Ref: Register (Adelaide) 13-7-1918]

Murray Bridge to Mulgundawa Road

Mr H D Young MP, waited on the Commissioner of Crown Lands (Hon G R Laffer), and introduced a deputation from the District Councils of Murray Bridge and Brinkley asking that the road from Murray Bridge to Mulgundawa be placed on the main roads schedule and that in the meantime a grant, to enable the council to construct the road, be made. It was stated that a large amount of money had been spent on the road, but the councils had come to the end of their resources.

Fifteen years ago there were only two or three settlers in the district and now practically the whole of the land was settled.

The heavy mallee carting traffic had cut up the road badly. Patching had proved useless, and the council wanted immediate help. [Ref; Daily Herald 20-9-1920]

Mr W C Humphrey

A well-known personality of the Mulgundawa district in the person of Mr William Charles Humphrey, died at his residence, Murray Bridge, on Monday, in his 82nd year.

He was born at Finniss, and at the age of eight years, went to Mulgundawa with his parents, and subsequently took over the farm, which he worked till about 11 years ago, when he moved into Murray Bridge. He leaves a family of two sons and two daughters all of whom reside at Mulgundawa. [Ref: Southern Argus (Port Elliot) 16-1-1936]

Obviously the threatening noises do work.

Opera is such beautiful simplicity. The more simple the libretto it seems, the more it allows very complex musicality.

Virgin Galactic 03 - VGX03 Arriving from Truth or Consequences, NM (9NM9).

HEARTLAND GOTHIC series:

A rural realm — noir, bizarre and sometimes science fiction.

Go to series start

A sane conception for an outcast pair or so it seemed at creation...

They'd abandon together this mortal world and exist in eternal liberation.

But alas, they'd be severed to both their dismay; torn forever yearning...

Reaching for; wanting, that adulation that now lies in perpetuum-- burning.

United in love, divided by death such tragedy seems limitless...

for never again will our lovers relate, apart from their mournfulness.

I have been thinking about this for a while, didn't pull it off exactly how I had hoped to but its a start... its 16 layers of hacked together shots that closely resemble what I was going for...

Sometimes we try to stack the deck in our favor and have undesired consequences...

Strobist: The picture of the girl has one 400watt umbrella 45* facing her and off camera flash camera left 24mm 1/64 power, the couple has 1 umbrella 400 watt dead center over the camera