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Starting off the New Year with a Dope Drop ♥
Mommy Enhancement fatpack of 20 Tones ♥ Now Available 1/12 for Gold Members (5$)
Will be available for supporters (1$) on 1/19
Available for the public 1/26
(Add on Belly Enhancement for Mommies. Try all 5 to see what works with your layered CC )
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I've changed the content of the museum wall, putting my own drawing into the frame: visit PhotoFunia to do the same:
🔥 More exclusive photos and unique content:
Preset Pack 2024: Open
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Norio taking a nap in the warming house (from the sun from the south) in the early afternoon. He is content, peaceful, and happy.
Leipziger Buchmesse 2016 / Leipzig Book Fair 2016
2016-03-19 (Saturday)
2016_042
2016#250
nanagenso (Helena) ____ as (own creation) from ____
Thank you for any group invites which I'd be glad to accept. However, if I can't check the content of such groups ("This group is not available to you") I'd rather not add any of my photos. Thanks for your understanding.
I want to come back as a cow on this farm next time round. Fed 20 times a day by a robot, floor swept automatically 24 times a day, and the most comfortable mattress to lie on.
New Zine by Valerie Phillips about Amy Winehouse:
"stop asking me about amy i only spent one day with her"
OUT NOW on PogoBooks:
© Tam Mains. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce this image on websites or on social media without the owners consent.
A dealership in Den Bosch, selling Alfa Romeo among some other brands. In 2019 Alfa Romeo only sold some 750 cars in the Netherlands. Gone are the days they sold more than 5,000 a year of the 156 alone... In the rest of Europe Alfa isn't doing much better.
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Poster (Locandina):
www.acectoscana.it/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/Hereafter.jpg
www.thecinemashow.it/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/hereafter...
www.warnerbros.it/sites/default/files/WB2014_HAD-01837_7f...
netflixmania.it/wp-content/uploads/2024/11/hereafter-film...
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click to activate the small icon of slideshow: the small triangle inscribed in the small rectangle, at the top right, in the photostream (it means the monitor);
or…. Press the “L” button to zoom in the image;
clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;
oppure…. premi il tasto “L” per ingrandire l'immagine;
www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...
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Does the afterlife exist? Mystics like Padre Pio, Natuzza Evolo spoke with the souls of the deceased, not knowing that they were “deceased”, they did not distinguish them from normal people (they understood it later). The Marian apparitions to Bernadette, to the three shepherds of Fatima, those of Medjugorje, were they real? And how much have they influenced the history of humanity? My profession has led me to meet people who have told me about their “uncommon experiences”. A few years ago, a young man of about 30 years old, reported his “near death” experience, hospitalized in very serious conditions in our intensive care unit, he told of when he saw doctors and paramedics from above, busy around his body, he then found himself inside a tunnel, at the end there was a light. Now “Francesco” is fine. A couple of months ago, still in intensive care, I talked with a patient of about 50 years old, who survived three almost consecutive cardiac arrests, after that event, he told me, he had unexpectedly discovered a deep faith; discharged, he is now in good health. A few days ago, again for professional reasons, I met a lady in her 60s, accompanied by her 26-year-old son, she told me that, in her troubled life, in addition to having undergone numerous surgical operations, she had been subjected to numerous cycles of chemotherapy, during one of these sessions, she had a cardiocirculatory arrest (probably caused by anaphylactic shock), at that moment she could clearly see the whole scene from above, everyone was doing their best to revive her, she saw a nurse pushing a trolley in the corridor, unable to enter the room where her body was, because half of the door was blocked by a latch, preventing the passage of the trolley, she kicked the door violently which opened thus managing to pass; she saw a doctor who, in the grip of excitement, was unable to put on her coat (these events, the lady told me, had a positive response); the story continued, she rose higher, light, as if floating on the waves of the sea, she saw a cone of light that fell on her like confetti, she felt a sensation of well-being, she saw her grandfather, who held her head and caressed her hair, she looked up and saw some figures, they seemed to have wings, she thought that perhaps they were angels, suddenly she felt herself being “sucked and banged” inside her body. Now the lady, after that experience, no longer fears death. She put her hand on mine, without touching it, just a few seconds, she began to talk about some of my personal facts, at that moment, they seemed to me to be a bit banal and obvious observations, but then, looking me in the eyes, she stated with certainty that in my family, there was a person called Angelo (in reality her name is Angela), she was not wrong. She told me that, months before Eros Ramazzotti's song "Un angelo disteso al sole" came out, she was singing that tune, including the lyrics. She showed me on her smartphone, a selfie of her taken in the car, on the windshield you could clearly see a “luminous face”, she said that her Guardian Angel, Saint Michael the Archangel, had appeared to her. (The lady was also hospitalized in the “La Maddalena” clinic in Palermo, she met the mafia boss Matteo Messina Denaro, she told me an anecdote of hers, but that’s another story). This story, like the one told by Francesco, are part of those numerous cases defined as “pre-death” or “NDE” acronym derived from the English, Near Death Experience. A scientific hypothesis interprets these phenomena as the result of chemical reactions that are triggered in the brain in moments of deep psycho-physical stress, in oxygen deficiency, with the release of endorphins (they generate sensations of euphoria and well-being) and other neurotransmitters, which can determine overall a hyperfunctioning and strengthening of the senses in the cerebral cortex. I am fascinated by the story of when the physicist Albert Einstein, while discussing with Gustavo Adolfo Rol (a famous Italian psychic), placed his hand between the lamp and the table, saying "you see, when matter manifests itself, it casts a dark shadow, because it is matter, whereas God, being pure spirit, when he materializes cannot manifest himself if not through light: light is nothing other than the shadow of God". I have posted a series of photographs taken in November and December of this year, the first part are shots taken according to the dictates of street / beach photography, some examples of earthly reality, to then enter into the "hypothesis of that otherworldly and parallel reality, not perceptible by our senses" accompanied by the presence of Angels, Beings of Light, who "should" always be close to us throughout our existence, after all the mystic Natuzza Evolo recognized the "plainclothes priests" by the presence of their Guardian Angel, because he was placed on their right.
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Esiste l’Aldilà? Mistici come Padre Pio, Natuzza Evolo parlavano con le anime dei defunti, non sapendo che erano dei “trapassati”, non li distinguevano dalle normali persone (lo capirono successivamente). Le apparizioni mariane a Bernadette, ai tre pastorelli di Fatima, quelle di Medugorje, erano reali ? E quanto hanno inciso nella storia dell’umanità? La mia professione mi ha portato a confrontarmi con persone che mi hanno raccontato di loro “esperienze non comuni”. Qualche anno fa, un giovane di circa 30 anni, riferì una sua esperienza di “premorte”, ricoverato in gravissime condizioni nella nostra terapia intensiva, raccontò di quando lui vide dall’alto medici e parasanitari, indaffarati attorno al suo corpo, si trovò poi dentro un tunnel, in fondo vi era una luce. Adesso “Francesco” sta bene. Un paio di mesi fa, sempre in terapia intensiva, ho conversato con un paziente di circa 50 anni, sopravvissuto a tre arresti cardiaci quasi consecutivi, dopo quell’evento, mi riferiva, aveva scoperto inaspettatamente, una profonda fede; dimesso, adesso è in buona salute. Pochi giorni fa, sempre per motivi professionali, ho conosciuto una signora sui 60 anni, accompagnata dal figlio di anni 26 anni, mi raccontò che, nella sua travagliata vita, oltre ad aver subito numerosi interventi chirurgici, è stata sottoposta a numerosi cicli di chemioterapia, durante una di questa sedute, è incorsa in un arresto cardiocircolatorio (probabilmente causato da uno shock anafilattico), in quel momento vedeva distintamente tutta la scena dall’alto, tutti si prodigavano per rianimarla, vide una infermiera spingere un carrello nel corridoio, non riuscendo ad entrare nella sala dove si trovava il suo corpo, poiché mezza anta della porta era bloccata da un chiavistello, impedendo il passaggio del carrello, lei diede un calcio violento all’anta che si aprì riuscendo così a passare; vide una dottoressa che in preda alla concitazione non riusciva a mettersi il camice (questi eventi, mi riferì la signora, ebbero un riscontro positivo); il racconto continuò, lei salì più in alto, leggera, come galleggiando sulle onde del mare, vide un cono di luce che scendeva su di lei come fossero coriandoli, lei percepiva una sensazione di benessere, vide suo nonno, che le teneva il capo e le accarezzava i capelli, guardò in alto e vide delle figure, sembrava avessero delle ali, pensò che forse erano gli angeli, improvvisamente si sentì “risucchiare e sbattere” dentro il suo corpo. Adesso la signora, dopo quella esperienza, non teme più la morte. Mise la sua mano sopra la mia, senza toccarla, solo qualche secondo, incominciò a parlare su alcuni miei fatti personali, in quel momento, mi sembrarono osservazioni un po’ banali e scontate, però poi, guardandomi negli occhi, affermò con certezza che nella mia famiglia, c’era una persona che si chiama Angelo (in realtà si chiama Angela), non si era sbagliata. Mi riferì che, mesi prima che uscisse la canzone di Eros Ramazzotti “Un angelo disteso al sole”, lei cantava quel motivo, incluse le parole. Mi mostrò sul suo smartphone, un suo selfie fatto in auto, sul parabrezza si vedeva distintamente un “volto luminoso”, lei disse che le era apparso il suo Angelo Custode, San Michele Arcangelo. (La signora fu ricoverata anche nella clinica “La Maddalena” di Palermo, fece la conoscenza del boss mafioso Matteo Messina Denaro, mi raccontò un suo aneddoto, ma questa è un’altra storia). Questa storia, come quella raccontata da Francesco, rientrano in quei numerosi casi definiti di “premorte” o “NDE” acronimo derivato dall’inglese, Near Death Experience. Una ipotesi scientifica interpreta tali fenomeni come il risultato di reazioni chimiche che si scatenano nel cervello in momenti di profondo stress psico-fisico, in carenza di ossigeno, con rilascio di endorfine (esse generano sensazioni di euforia e di benessere) ed altri neurotrasmettitori, potendo determinare nell’insieme un iperfunzionamento e potenziamento dei sensi nella corteccia cerebrale. Sono affascinato dalla vicenda, di quando il fisico Albert Einstein discutendo con Gustavo Adolfo Rol (famoso sensitivo italiano) frappose la sua mano tra lampada e tavolo, dicendo “vedi, quando la materia si manifesta, proietta una ombra scura, perché è materia, invece Dio essendo puro spirito, quando si materializza non può manifestarsi se non attraverso la luce: la luce non è altro, se non, l’ombra di Dio”. Posto una serie di fotografie eseguite nel novembre e dicembre di quest’anno, una prima parte sono scatti realizzati secondo i dettami della street /beach photography, qualche esempio di realtà terrena, per entrare poi nella “ipotesi di quella realtà ultraterrena e parallela, non percepibile dai nostri sensi” accompagnata dalla presenza degli Angeli, Esseri di Luce, che “dovrebbero” starci sempre accanto durante tutta la nostra esistenza, d'altronde la mistica Natuzza Evolo riconosceva i “sacerdoti in borghese” dalla presenza del loro Angelo Custode, perché messo alla loro destra.
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Estoy contento de retomar la fotografía en general, y la fotografía callejera en particular después de tanto tiempo fuera de juego. Aprovecho además para presentar la primera foto callejera decente que he logrado con mi cámara "nueva", de tamaño más acorde para callejear que la reflex, mi Panasonic DMC-GX1, a la que le haré un pequeño homenaje fotográfico cuando tenga tiempo.
Espero que mis contactos hayáis seguido haciendo fotos, para que yo disfrute viéndolas. Espero tener tiempo de verlas. Un saludo para todos.
WEDD_iN_CLICKS
Do not use any content without permission
E-mail: weddinclicks.bd@gmail.com
contact : 01675553227
for Wedding packages you can both call or send emails
Portland, OR
Not our dog, just a happy fellow along a walk.
Camera: Nikon F w/Photomic FTN Finder
Film: Fuji Superia 400
Lens: Nikon 24mm AI 2.8 Lens
My new novel:
B♭ (Be Flat)
Dropping more content! 😃
(Still not finalized yet.)
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Scene: Madison Square Garden 2
A low murmur swept down the avenue in front of the Garden as a black lead sedan and a fleet of white motorcycle escorts slowly rolled in. Four armored limousines followed, flanked by NYPD and state police SUVs. Behind them trailed a line of communication trucks, ambulances, and news vans—no more than fifty vehicles in all, but the weight of their presence was overwhelming.
The motorcade moved as if traffic signals held no meaning. The street had been completely shut down, and the convoy advanced in perfect synchrony. Police radio chatter leaked from the vehicles, while the blocked-off sidewalks were crowded with reporters clutching cameras and riot police standing firm. Near the center, three jet-black SUVs carried CAT operatives, their eyes scanning the street like silent sentinels from behind suppressor-equipped rifles.
On top of the limousines, state-of-the-art jamming devices disrupted all outside signals. Trailing them was a “Roadrunner” communications command vehicle bristling with antennas, maintaining real-time encrypted communication with the command center beneath the Garden.
At the tail end were fire department rapid response units, a hazmat vehicle, and two ambulances. The arrival of a presidential candidate was no longer a mere movement—it was a military operation. The city responded like a living neural network, absorbing and adjusting to the convoy’s every move.
Onlookers lined the barricades—civilians raising smartphones overhead, and journalists with grim faces behind their lenses. No one spoke. The crowd stood in solemn silence, bathed in the red and blue pulses of rotating lights, watching as the procession swept past like a scene from a film. But this wasn’t a movie. The silence was real. No one dared crack a joke.
Sniper teams were stationed on rooftops around the Garden. Occasionally, the word “clear” crackled over the comms. Inside the building, only those who had passed facial recognition were permitted to take position. In the chilled surveillance room where Jack sat, hundreds of camera feeds rotated every few seconds across the screens.
Inside the presumed presidential limousine, darkness cloaked everything—no figures visible behind the glass. Yet everyone on-site knew those clear windows hid layers of invisible defense. That silence, designed to preserve life, carried with it a deadly order that blanketed the entire convoy.
Overhead, two Black Hawk helicopters glided in low and began to hover above the Garden. They were escape vessels, should the worst occur—but more than that, they were a reminder that this place was, for tonight, a battlefield.
In the command room on the Garden’s B3 level, Jack sat under the blue glow of the monitors, listening intently to the radio in his ear.
“Eagle has arrived. Parking complete on B3. Zebra point passed. T-minus 45 seconds to approach.”
The voice in his earpiece made him bite his lip unconsciously. The coffee in his cup had long gone cold.
Onscreen, the divided camera feeds displayed the barricades on Seventh Avenue, snipers in standby, and now—the black limousine sliding into the underground garage.
The air tightened. Time became tangible. The tick of the second hand grew louder in everyone’s ears. Jack’s fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the radio button.
Scene: Madison Square Garden 1
Jack shifted the donut box in his hand and pressed the button for B3. The air in the elevator was cold, and he wiped the sweat from his brow as he watched the lights descend. The contrast with the heat above made his vision blur slightly.
Stepping out, he turned right. Immediately on the left was the briefing room door, where a security man in a rumpled suit greeted him.
“Everyone’s already waiting.”
Jack stood before the sensor and calmly turned his face toward it. A few seconds later, a mechanical chime signaled access approval, and the heavy fireproof doors slid open.
Once inside, Jack offered a small smile.
“I brought donuts. Make sure everyone gets some later.”
The security man grinned behind his sunglasses.
Beyond the thick soundproof door, 32 monitors glowed blue in the dim room. Staff members moved briskly and silently between the machines. The hum of servers filled the space, punctuated only by the occasional alert. In the center was the commander’s seat, surrounded in a ring by workstations. The wall-sized screen displayed rapid live cuts from over 400 arena cameras—spectator stands, lobby, corridors, VIP lounge, loading dock, backstage, utility room, underground passages…
If a single rat appeared in those tunnels, they’d be able to track it straight to the sewers.
Jack sat in the commander’s chair and flipped the switch on the gooseneck mic in front of him. Its flexible neck trembled as the red indicator light came on.
“I’ve got donuts. Sorry, no glazed. There’s Boston Cream, Chocolate Frosted, Strawberry Frosted, and Old-Fashioned. No coffee, so grab your own.”
“Old-Fashioned for me,” came Ben’s voice from the loading dock. He adjusted the transparent tube of his earpiece and muttered into his collar.
Jack gave a faint smile, then grew serious again as he leaned toward the mic.
“Eagle is about to arrive. Entering through Ben’s loading dock. Three minutes to VIP room. Fifteen-minute briefing. Then onstage. Let me remind you—tonight marks the official nomination of the presidential candidate at the National Convention. First Republican convention held here in over twenty years. Also, his fiancée, Eleanor Blake, is with him. Stunning and brilliant. Try not to fall for her. The only ones you’re allowed to admire are bulky bruisers in tactical gear. And don’t forget, VP candidate Cole Harrison is here too—he’s the leash on our foul-mouthed Justin. No matter what he says, don’t punch back. I’ll be the one getting punched later.”
Jack checked his watch.
“One minute out. When Justin’s team heads home, dig into the donuts. Over and out.”
From the monitor showing the VIP lounge, Daryl spoke up behind him.
“Jack, better check in with Elijah at the hospital. Make sure he’s on standby.”
Without turning, Jack raised his hand and called out.
“Elijah, you copy? Daryl thinks you’re chilling at Starbucks.”
Laughter came through the speaker, followed by the chaotic background noise of Bellevue Hospital.
“Daryl, how’d you know? I was just thinking of getting Jack fired.”
Swiveling in his chair, Daryl laughed back at the screen.
“Let’s hope Justin doesn’t end up in your ER.”
Jack cut in.
“All stations, go. Justin’s here. Stick to the plan. Let’s move.”
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Scene: Madison Square Garden 3 — Justin, Eleanor, Cole
The door of the limousine opened from within, and Justin Bradford stepped out with a short sigh.
“Damn. It’s suffocating down here. Even a stray dog would turn up its nose at this parking garage.”
He brushed off the hem of his suit jacket with one hand, casting a grimace toward the concrete gloom.
Vice presidential candidate Cole Harrison followed quietly behind. Eight years older than Justin, Cole had once stood by Justin’s father, Lysus Bradford—through every rally and protest, until the day Lysus, still registered as a Democrat, was gunned down by a sniper. Cole had admired Lysus deeply for his commitment to voicing the will of the unheard.
Justin yawned, wide and unfiltered. Cole spoke gently beside him.
“This was the safest option. Too many unknowns outside. It’s dangerous.”
“Cole, you’re the biggest unknown we’ve got.”
“And that makes two of us, Justin,” Cole replied with a small, knowing smile.
The click of white heels echoed faintly as Eleanor Blake stepped onto the stained concrete. She wore a pale beige coat over her dress and moved with quiet elegance. Though her brow creased slightly at the stagnant air, she quickly replaced it with a smile and walked toward Justin.
“Justin,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm, “no more jokes at the staff’s expense. These people would lay down their lives for you.”
Justin gave a small, lopsided smile and brushed a kiss against her cheek.
“For their sake, I better live up to it.”
Flanked by security, the three of them began walking down the dim corridor. Faint LED lights flickered overhead. Dirty walls, cold silence, and a chill that crept under their skin accompanied them.
“These hallways always get to me,” Justin muttered.
“I understand,” Eleanor said softly. “But this is the safest route.”
“That’s exactly why we should be grateful,” Cole added. “It’s this kind of space that protects us.”
Eventually, they reached the elevator reserved for dignitaries. The face recognition system chirped quietly as it confirmed their identities.
“Just a few more steps to the VIP lounge,” said one of the agents.
Justin glanced back at Eleanor and shrugged.
“Let’s shake the Garden tonight.”
She touched his arm lightly and smiled.
“I’m counting on you, Justin.”
The three of them stepped into the elevator, the doors closing quietly behind them as it carried them upward.
Scene: Totto Ramen — Ana, Mika, Motorcade
— Red, Yellow, Blue —
It was just after 7 p.m. when a light rain began to fall on East 52nd Street.
Ana leaned against the wall of an old building next to Totto Ramen, absently watching the changing traffic light at the intersection to her right. The air was heavy with humid heat clinging to the concrete, making even the pedestrians seem to move slower than usual.
The signal turned green. As she dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief and squinted into the distance, she spotted Kana on the far side of the crosswalk, waving and running toward her with a smile.
Then, suddenly, the air shifted.
From the far side of the intersection, a fleet of black SUVs glided in, soundless and ghostlike. In the few dozen seconds between the lead vehicle’s arrival and the armored limousine at the rear disappearing, the entire intersection was sealed off—no one passed.
As the convoy disappeared down the avenue, the signal changed again. Foot traffic resumed. The city inhaled.
Kana reemerged from the crowd and waved once more.
After wrapping up their exhibit, Ana and Mika had packed their gear into Mika’s car and headed into Manhattan. Ana’s husband, Arjun, worked at LuminaTech Innovations—a hybrid company based in Williamsburg specializing in AI, cloud services, and cybersecurity. Though it was his day off, he’d had a meeting in Hudson Yards and was on a separate schedule from Ana.
Totto Ramen was nearby, and ever since Mika had first brought her there, it had become a favorite for Ana and Arjun alike.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. It’s been such a lovely day,” Mika said, slightly out of breath.
By “lovely,” she meant the two sharply dressed men from that morning, still lingering in their thoughts.
Ana answered with mild disinterest.
“Was it? That your type, Mika?”
Mika shrugged and smiled.
“Mm, I like someone close enough that I can run home to my parents if I need to.”
They laughed as they slid open the ramen shop’s wooden door and took seats at the counter. The place was bustling with Asian families enjoying their weekend. Familiar Japanese drifted from the far end of the counter.
Ana’s iPhone buzzed. It was a video call from Arjun.
She tapped the screen. His apologetic face appeared.
“The meeting’s running long. Go ahead and eat without me.”
Ana smiled gently.
“Be careful. A whole swarm of black cars just swept through here.”
Arjun responded immediately.
“They’re probably heading to the Garden. There’s supposed to be a Republican convention tonight. The candidate’s making his appearance.”
Mika, having caught the gist, nodded deeply.
“Yeah, it’s felt weird all day. The city’s tense—not your usual weekend.”
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Scene: Red Hook 1 — Amir and Rafi
Red Hook stood apart, even within Brooklyn.
Shielded by the shadows of skyscrapers, the red-brick warehouses, worn by wind and rain, groaned softly in the breeze. Each gust from the sea layered fresh salt onto the air, leaving streaks of rust blooming along the warehouse doors.
Beyond a broken fence, a long-unused warehouse door creaked open.
Amir stepped inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The smell of oil soaked into the concrete filled his nostrils.
“Let’s start here,” he said.
Rafi nodded without a word.
They had first come to this place five winters ago.
Having lost everything in Gaza at the hands of Israel, the two had fled legally through Egypt and Turkey, eventually arriving in Tapachula in southern Mexico. There, they made contact with a smuggler known as a coyote.
Rafi paid $12,000 per person to the traffickers—using cryptocurrency hacked through North Korean channels. The coins had been stolen through a North Korea–linked hacking syndicate. Amir wrote the code himself and erased all trace of the transaction. They had crossed borders not with blood, but with digits.
Later, under cover of night, they slipped beneath a border fence and entered the United States by land.
The night sky over Texas was a shade of dark blue they had never seen before. Low and clear, the deep blue held a fleeting kind of hope. But that hope was far outweighed by the hatred that had taken root in their hearts.
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Set in New York City.
1
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
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Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
さらに投下します。😃
(まだ決定ではありません。)
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場面 マディソンスクエアガーデン２
ガーデン正面の通りがわずかにざわめき、先導の黒いセダンと白バイク隊がゆっくりと進入してきた。次いで装甲に覆われたリムジンが４台つづき、市警と州警のSUVがその脇を固め、後方には通信車両、救急車、そして報道バンの列…… 全部でざっと５０台にも満たないが、その重厚感は圧倒的だった――。
車列は信号すら意味をなさず、完全に遮断された通りを、隊列の呼吸に従って前進していく。警察無線の交信が車外に漏れ、通行止めの歩道にはカメラを構えた記者と機動隊員が混じり合っていた。中腹には「CAT」と呼ばれる武装部隊が乗る漆黒のSUVが３台並び、サプレッサー付きライフルを持った隊員が、まるで車内から通りをスキャンするように視線を動かしている。
リムジンの天井には、最新の妨害電波装置が搭載され、外部通信を一時的に遮断する。さらにその後方を、アンテナが林立した“ロードランナー”と呼ばれる通信司令車が追走し、ガーデン地下の指揮室とリアルタイムで暗号通信を続けている。
車列の最後尾には消防局の緊急対応車、化学物質対応車、そして２台の救急車が控えていた。大統領候補がこの都市に足を踏み入れるというのは、もはや“移動”ではなく、“軍事行動”のようだった。街全体が、ひとつの生きた神経網のように、その動線を受け止めていた。
歩道の柵沿いには、スマートフォンを高く掲げる市民と、顔を強張らせた報道カメラマンたちが入り混じっていた。群衆は押し黙り、ただエンジンのうなりと回転灯の光に照らされながら、目の前を通り過ぎる車列を見守っていた。まるで映画のワンシーンのようだが、空気は静まり返り、誰一人として軽口を叩く者はいない。
ガーデン周辺の屋上には狙撃班が配備され、時折、無線越しに「クリア」の声が交錯した。建物内の全階層には顔認証を通過した要員だけが配置され、冷房の効いたジャックのいる監視室では、数百台のカメラ映像が数秒ごとに切り替わっている。
大統領候補が乗ると目されるリムジンの車内は暗く、ガラス越しに人影すら映らない。だが、その曇りのない窓には、目に見えない幾重もの防御層が仕込まれていることを、現場の誰もが理解していた。命を守るために設計された沈黙と、殺気を孕んだ秩序が、車列全体を覆っている。
背後から、２機のブラックホークが上空をなめるように飛来し、ガーデンの屋上でホバリングを始めた。万が一の脱出手段であり、また、この場が“戦場”であることを暗に示す存在だった。
ジャックは、ガーデン地下三階の指令室で、モニターの青白い光に顔を照らされながら、無線に耳を傾けていた。
「イーグル、地下駐車場レベルB3にて停車完了。ポイント・ゼブラ通過。接近までTマイナス45秒」
耳元のイヤーピースから流れるその声に、彼は無意識に唇を噛んだ。手元のカップに入ったコーヒーは、すでにぬるくなっていた。
モニターには分割されたカメラ映像がずらりと並んでいる。第七通りのバリケード、スタンバイ中の狙撃手、そして今、地下駐車場の入口に黒いリムジンが滑り込む様子が映し出されていた。
空気が一気に張り詰めた。誰もが秒針の音を意識し始め、静寂の中に微かな緊張が走った。ジャックの指が、わずかに震えながらも無線の送信ボタンに触れた。
場面 マディソンスクエアガーデン１
エレベーターに乗ったジャックは、手にしたドーナツの箱を持ち替えると、地下三階へのボタンを押した。冷房の効いたエレベーター内で下っていくランプを見上げたまま、額の汗を拭った。熱した地上からの温度差で多少視界が滲んでいた。
降りて、右手に行くと、すぐ左側にブリーフィングルームの扉があり、よれたスーツを着たセキュリティーの男性がジャックに挨拶した。
「みなさん、もうお待ちですよ」
ジャックはセンサーの前に立ち、静かに顔を向けた。数秒後、「アクセス承認」の電子音とともに、重たい防火扉が左右に開いた。
クリアするとジャックは、口元を緩めていった。
「ドーナツ買ってきたよ。あとでみんなで食べてくれ」
セキュリティーの男性は、白い歯を見せ、サングラス越しに微笑んだ。
厚い防音扉を越えると、薄暗い空間に32面のモニターが青白く光っていた。スタッフが機器の合間を縫って、言葉少なに忙しなく行き交っていく。室内には低く唸るサーバーの音と、時折アラート音だけが響いている。部屋の中央には指揮官席、その周囲に円を描くように並んだワークステーション。壁面いっぱいの巨大スクリーンには、アリーナ内400台以上のカメラがライブ映像を忙しなく切り替え、流し続けている。客席、ロビー、通路、VIPラウンジ、搬入口、ステージ裏、電気設備室、地下通路….
もしも地下通路にねずみが一匹現れたら、下水溝まで追跡できるはずだ。
ジャックは指揮官席に腰を下ろし、前方に据え付けられたグースネックマイクのスイッチを押した。しなる首元がわずかに揺れ、赤いインジケーターが点灯した。
「みんな、ドーナツを買ってきた。残念ながらグレーズドは売り切れだった。ボストンクリーム、チョコフロステッド、ストロベリーフロステッド、オールドファッション、以上だ。コーヒーもないからな。勝手に飲むように」
「ジャック、俺はオールドファッションな」
搬入口にいるベンが、耳に伸びたセキュリティイヤピースの透明なチューブを整えながら、襟元に指を添え、モニター越しに呟いた。
ジャックは軽く微笑み返してから、声を整え、目の前のマイクに向かって、真剣に伝えた。
「まもなく、イーグルがやってくる。ベンのいる搬入口から入り、３分でVIPルームへ。１５分の打ち合わせ後、アリーナへ登壇する。もう一度確認するが、今夜は大統領候補の指名が正式に確定する全国党大会だ。共和党は、２０年以上振りにここで開催するらしい。それから、フィアンセのエリノア・ブレイクもいっしょだ。容姿端麗な才女だ。見惚れるなよ。お前らが見惚れていいのは筋肉隆々の荒くれものだけだ。さらに副大統領候補のコール・ハリソンもいっしょだ。口の悪いジャスティンのお目付役だ。何を言われても決して殴り返すな。俺があとで殴られるからな」
ジャックは腕時計を見た。
「あと１分で到着だ。ジャスティン一行が帰宅したら、ドーナツをたらふく食べてくれ。以上だ」
画面左側に映ったVIPラウンジに見入っていたダリルが、ジャックの背中にいった。
「ジャック、病院のイライジャにも確認したほうがいい。ちゃんと待機しているようにってね」
ジャックは背を向けたまま、腕を上げて返答するとイライジャに問いかけた。
「聞こえるか、イライジャ。お前がスタバでくつろいでると疑われてるぞ、ダリルに」
イライジャは、笑いながら即答した。背後に、ベルビュー病院内の忙しないアナウンスが走っている。のんびりしたイライジャの声とは正反対だ。
「ダリル、なんでばれた？ そろそろジャックの首を飛ばそうと思ってさ」
椅子を回転させたダリルは、右手のモニターに目を落としながら、イライジャに笑いながらいった。
「お前のところに、ジャスティンが運ばれないことを祈るよ」
ジャックは、二人の会話を遮った。
「全員、スタートだ。ジャスティンが到着した。打ち合わせどおりに。頼んだぞ」
場面 マディソンスクエアガーデン３ ジャスティン、エリノア、コール
リムジンのドアが内側から開き、ジャスティン・ブラッドフォードは短くため息をついて足を踏み出した。
「まったく、息が詰まるな。地下駐車場なんて、野良犬でも嫌がる」
スーツの裾を片手で乱暴に払いつつ、顔をしかめて辺りを見回した。その後ろから、副大統領候補のコール・ハリソンが静かに車を降りた。彼はジャスティンより8歳年上だったが、かつてはその父、ライサス・ブラッドフォードのもとで行動を共にし、彼が民主党に籍を置き、狙撃により命を落とすその時まで、傍らで支え続けていた。ライサスが声なき国民の想いを代弁しようとする姿に、コールは深い感銘を受けていた。
大きなあくびをこぼしたジャスティンに、コールは穏やかに言った。
「セキュリティ上の最善策だ。外は、あまりにも不確定要素が多い。危険だ」
「コールの言動の方がよほど先が読めないけどね」
「ジャスティン、そのままお前に返すよ」
ジャスティンの皮肉に、コールは軽く微笑みながら冷静に返した。
エリノア・ブレイクの白いハイヒールが、駐車場の暗いコンクリートに静かに降りた。淡いベージュのコートを羽織った彼女は、ヒールの音も控えめに、優雅に車外へ降り立った。地下の濁った空気に微かに眉を寄せながらも、すぐに笑みを浮かべ直し、ジャスティンに歩み寄った。
「ジャスティン、スタッフにつまらない冗談はやめてね。みんな、あなたのために命を投げ出す人たちよ」
彼女の声は柔らかいが、芯のあるものだった。
ジャスティンは少し顔をほころばせ、エリノアの頬に軽いキスをした。
「命か…なら、俺もその期待に応えないとな」
セキュリティーに囲われた三人は地下駐車場の薄暗い通路へと歩みを進めた。所々薄汚れた壁と天井のLEDライトが冷たく落ちている。冷たさと静寂が辺りを覆っている。
「この手の通路は、いつ見ても気が滅入るな」
ジャスティンが呟いた。
「気持ちはわかるけど、ここが最も安全なルートよ」エリノアが柔らかく返す。コールが間を埋めるように言った。
「こうした環境だからこそ、私たちが守られている。感謝するべきだ」
しばらく歩くと、要人専用エレベーターの前に到着した。壁の顔認証システムが稼働し、認証音が静かに鳴った。
「VIPルームまであと少しです」
セキュリティーのひとりがジャスティンらに告げた。
ジャスティンは背後のエリノアをちらりと見て、肩をすくめていった。
「今夜、ガーデンを震わそう」
エリノアが彼の腕に軽く触れ、優しく笑いかけた。
「期待してるわ、ジャスティン」
三人は静かにエレベーターに乗り込み、VIPルームへと向かった。
場面 トットラーメン アナ、ミカ、車列
—— 赤、黄色、青 ——
イースト52丁目に小雨が舞い始めたのは、午後七時を少し過ぎた頃だった。
アナは、トットラーメンの隣にある古いビルの壁面にもたれ、右手に見える十字路の信号をぼんやりと眺めていた。蒸し返すような湿気がコンクリートにまとわりつき、行き交う人々の足取りもどこか重たかった。
信号が青に変わった。額の汗をハンカチで拭いながら、アナが目を細めると、十字路の向こうにカナの姿が見えた。彼女は手を振りながら、笑顔でこちらに駆け出してくる。
そのとき、空気がふいに変わった。十字路の向こうから、黒いSUVの車列が音もなく滑り込んできた。先頭車両の到着から、最後尾の装甲リムジンが去るまでの数十秒間、交差点は完全に封鎖され、誰も通ることができなかった。
車列が去ると、信号が切り替わり、ふたたび人の流れが戻り、動き出した。
カナがその人波の中からふたたび現れ、手を振った。
展示を終えたアナたちは、ミカの車に荷物を積み終えたあと、マンハッタンへ移動していた。
アナの夫アルジュンは、ウィリアムズバーグにあるAI・クラウド・サイバーセキュリティを手がける複合企業「ルミナテック・イノベーションズ」に勤めている。今日は休日だったが、彼だけハドソンヤードで会議があり、アナらとは別行動だった。
トットラーメンはその近くにあり、以前ミカに連れてきてもらってから、アナたち夫婦のお気に入りになっていた。
「おまたせ。今日は朝から素敵だったね」
息を切らせながら駆け寄ったミカが、そう言った。
“素敵”というのは、今朝の高級スーツをまとった二人の男のことだ。
アナは興味なさそうに答えた。
「そうね。ミカはああいう男性が好み？」
ミカは首をすくめ、笑って言った。
「うーん、かなり遠い存在かな。私は、すぐ実家に帰れるくらいの距離感が好き」
二人は笑い合いながら、ラーメン店の引き戸を開け、カウンターに並んで腰掛けた。店内は週末のため、アジア系の家族で賑わっていた。ミカの聞き慣れた日本語が遠くのカウンターから聞こえてくる。
アナのiPhoneが震えた。アルジュンからのビデオ通話だった。
画面をタッチすると、アルジュンが申し訳なさそうな表情で映った。
「会議が延びてる。少し遅れるから、先に食べててくれ」
アナは、静かに答えた。
「気をつけて来てね。さっきすごい車の軍団が流れていったわよ」
アルジュンは、即答した。
「今日はガーデンで、共和党の大会があるらしい。次期大統領候補が立つらしいよ」
傍で聞いていたミカが深々と頷きながら、同意した。
「なんか朝から物々しいのよね。いつもの週末と違うわ」
ーーーーーーーーー
場面 レッドフック１ アミール、ラフィ
レッドフックは、ブルックリンの中でも異質だった。
高層ビルの影に守られ、風雨に洗われた赤レンガの倉庫と錆びた港湾クレーンが、風に軋んでいる街だ。やってくる潮の匂いが重なるたびに上塗りされ、倉庫の鉄の扉に赤錆を浮かせていく。
鍵の壊れたフェンスの向こう、何年も使われていなかった倉庫の扉が静かに開いた。
アミールは一歩踏み入れ、光のない空間に目を慣らした。コンクリートに染み込んだ油の臭いが鼻をついた。
「ここから始めよう」
その声に、ラフィが黙って頷いた。
ふたりが初めてここにやってきたのは５年前の冬だ。イスラエルによってガザ地区ですべてを失った二人は、合法的にエジプトからトルコを経由し、メキシコの南部タパチュラへ行き、コヨーテと呼ばれる密入国請負人と接触した。ラフィは密入国業者へ一人あたり１２，０００ドルを支払った。すべて、北朝鮮経由でハッキングした仮想通貨での支払いだ。金の出どころは、北朝鮮系ハッカー集団を通じて奪ったコインだった。アミールの手でコードが組まれ、記録は消された。彼らは、血を流さずに数字を流して国境を超えたのだ。その後、国境のフェンスを夜に潜り、陸路でアメリカに入った。
テキサスの夜空は、彼らが見たことのないほど青黒かった。低く、澄んだ深い青の美しさは、彼らの胸にいくらかの希望を与えていたが、それ以上に憎しみの強さが上回っていた。
ーーーー
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これまでのメモ
1
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
舞台はニューヨークです。
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
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メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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If you enjoy the content, please consider supporting my work by using the link below so I can book more photoshoots.
My fight with depression has left a heavy toll on my family, my few friends, my art and my psyche. Wanting to avoid every shop window or mirror in order to avoid seeing my reflection is one of the many symptoms of this disease. Learning to deal with this is another thing entirely and as such this is the start of a series which takes me out of my comfort zone and tests my wherewithal.
When I was a small boy " ; ) " and the internet was young, so young in fact that they didn't call it "The internet" not even the WWW it was called the World Wide Web, the marketing campaign for this phenomenon was "No borders and No rules“
The governments of this world was chocked!
No rules?! They cried.
No borders?! They wept.
Ever since that day a long time ago the different governments of this world have searched for a way of controlling the internet.
Up until now they had fought in wain, for the internet was run by corporations and universities.
Information wants to be free, you can't control the freedom of creativity. The universities said.
Impose restrictions? Then no one will pay for using it. The companies said.
Then something happened, 9/11and flukeish enough 911 days later the attack on Barcelona, and yes I know that the number of the American distress call is 911.
The world was in shock.
Do something, stop this! People screamed.
And the governments did, they invented the Patriot act.
( www.epic.org/privacy/terrorism/hr3162.html )
"This stupid law is even in some use here in Sweden.
Sweden?! The one country in the world where all is welcome and the value of human life is greater than anything in the world"
And the people accepted this, if the people had not, then the internet would still be free. Now they have the power to control, the power to impose.
If you don't follow our rules, then to hell with you. The governments say.
I don't think it’s fair to blame the flickr team, yes they should have consulted us the paying users before they did this, but I think their only option was do this or shut down the German, Malaysian, Singaporean, Korean and Hong Kong servers. Blocking users of named countries from even watching flowers and landscapes.
We can fight as much as we want, we can scream as much as we want, it will be of no use.
But this is no reason to stop.
We will scream! We will fight!
But remember that a protest is a protest until someone throws a Molotov, then it's a riot.
As long as we are protesting within the boundaries the law, we will be able to keep this going, and maybe win this.
But as soon as someone throws that first Molotov we will shift the power over to them, and they will start to ban users and maybe even shut down the servers in the affected countries.
So instead of blaming the flickr crew you should help them, there are a lot of us flickr users out there and I’ll bet some of you living in Germany, Singapore, Malaysia, Korea and Hong Kong and use flickr have a better knowledge of the laws in your countries than they have on flickr headquarters, mail them and give them some advice and show them the loopholes.
And please stop this crying of Nazis, Germany is one of the countries affected and our German friends have suffered enough of the war, there are not many left in Germany who actually participated in that horrid event so lay of the Nazi bit ok. Forgive but don't forget.
*****************************Remember*******************************
Play this straight and maybe we will win this.
English:
If your Yahoo! ID is based in Singapore, Germany, Hong Kong or Korea you will only be able to view safe content based on your local Terms of Service so won’t be able to turn SafeSearch off.
In other words that means, that german users can not access photos on flickr that are not flaged "safe" ... only flowers and landscapes for the germans ...
We will not let this happen! Copy and upload this picture to your account - show flickr who we are!
Francais:
Si votre compte Yahoo! est basé à Singapour, à Hong Kong, en Corée ou en Allemagne, vous ne pourrez voir que les photos qui n'ont pas été marquées comme ayant un contenu qui peut choquer. Toutes les autres ne vous seront pas accessibles. Vous serez donc condamnés à ne voir que des paysages et des fleurs. Il ne faut pas laisser faire ça. Envoyez cette photo sur votre compte pour montrer à Flickr que nous savons nous mobiliser contre la censure !
Español:
Si tu Yahoo! ID está basada en Singapor, Alemania, Hong Kong o Corea sólamente verás contenido llamado seguro basándose en nuestros términos de servicio locales y no podrás deshabilitar el modo de búsqueda segura..
En otras palabras esto significa, que usuarios alemanes p.ej. ya no podrán acceder a fotos en flickr que hayan sido "flagged", es decir marcadas como no seguras y para todo público... solamente flores y paisajes para los alemanes ...
No permitiremos que ésto suceda! Copia y carga esta foto a tu cuenta de yahoo por favor para mostrar a flickr quienes somos!
Português:
Se você tem uma Yahoo! ID de Cingapura, Alemanha, Hong Kong ou Coréia você apenas será capaz de ver fotos classificadas como seguras e segundo seu termo de serviços não poderá desligar esta função.
Em outras palavras: alemães, coreanos, cingapurenses e os habitantes de Hong Kong não podem visualizar fotos no flickr que estejam classificadas como restritas ou moderadas.... apenas flores e paisagens para eles.
Nós não vamos deixar isto acontecer! Copie e faça upload desta foto - mostre ao flickr quem somos!
After trying out some slide film to cross process, I loaded up my crappy yardsale-found camera with some Lomo Redscale film. It had a difficult time not reflecting back a lot of the light on the other side of the film, so there are some blue hues in the shots that look almost like light leaks.
Anyway, I was still satisfied by a lot of the results and this extremely cheap, plastic camera keeps on surprising me! The first of these upcoming shots are from my girlfriend's sister's wedding and after that most of them are from this past autumn.
Taken with Luminox 356SL analog camera. Lomography Redscale XR 50-200 film (not sure what actual film they've redscaled when selling this product, but I'm guessing it usually has a ISO value of 400). 5 years expired.
Negative scanned with Epson Perfection V500 Photo, cropped and downsized for the web.
[This photograph is part of the black-and-white re-processings I have been recently uploading to Flickr, because I do not have any new content to show, owing to the fact that I am presently only shooting for a photo-book that will be published by the Fondation du Patrimoine towards the end of 2023. I cannot show any of those photos, obviously, as I do not know yet which ones will be in the book. Thank you for your understanding and I hope you enjoy revisiting some older photos in their new, black-and-white look!
I also reproduce below the caption I wrote when I first uploaded the concerned photo, sometimes with slight adaptations.]
The Romanesque church of Notre-Dame-la-Grande, in the city of Poitiers (central France), was built as a collegiate church, mostly during the 11th century. It was consecrated by the Pope in 1086, then the western façade was remodeled during the early 1200s. Listed as a Historic Landmark on the very first list of 1840, it also shows, on the northern wall, signs of a pre-Romanesque elevation in brick and stone, possibly from the Antiquity. We know there was an earlier church before the one we see today, as it is mentioned in writing during the 900s as Sancta Maria Major (a reference to the eponymous basilica in Rome). That church may have been built using parts of the walls of an even more ancient structure.
The church has undergone a very important campaign of restoration on the outside between 1992 and 2004, but the inside is now sorely in need of repairs, as you will see.
The long choir framed by its massive round columns with Corinthian-inspired capitals.
unfortunately,
my flickr account has been set to be unsafe by the flickr company.
it's said that as below,
Marked as restricted
We've changed the safety level of your photostream to
"restricted".
As per our Community Guidelines, content like that in your
account is not considered "safe" for everyone to view. You
may or may not be aware that Flickr has a Safe Search
system. When people browse or search on Flickr, they can
filter what they see based on a safety level that they are
comfortable with - either Safe Search is on, set to
moderate, or off. In order for Safe Search to work, we
relying on *you* to filter your content appropriately. As
you upload stuff to Flickr, you need to make sure that
you're applying appropriate filters (safe, moderate or
restricted) and telling us what sort of content it is
(photos, video, screenshots, art & illustration). If you
don't apply filters correctly, there's a very good chance
another member will let us know - in fact that's why we've
taken action today. (No need to be upset - it's every
member's right to let us know if they ever feel
uncomfortable. Yours too.)
We want Flickr to be a place that everyone can enjoy. That
means making sure that potentially offensive content is
filtered from public, safe areas of the site. If you read
our Community Guidelines, you'll see the key points are:
play nice, upload things that you have created yourself, and
respect the fact that there are millions of people visiting
Flickr who may not see the world the same way you do. Use
your common sense about whether or not your content is
suitable for a global, public audience. If the answer is no,
you need to filter it from public view. You should
also know that if we receive another report about your
content or conduct, it's very likely we'll terminate your
account.
So, please take a moment to find out how to work with
safety levels, use 'em, and everybody's happy!
Regards,
Flickr Staff
OMG
but lucky that,
people who have a flickr account could still see something from my photo album. Those without an account could see nothing.
I've sent one e-mail to the head of Flickr to ask them to have a check on my photos safety level again, then set me back to be safe.