View allAll Photos Tagged cools
Gran Via traffic lights - Madrid, Spain
One single shot using Olympus Live Composite mode to capture all traffic lights on, without over-exposing the shadows
With the decommissioned Willington Power Station cooling towers in the background, Colas Rail Freight Class 56 No. 56078 passes with 0Z56, a light engine move from Crewe Basford Hall to Doncaster on 3rd February 2023.
Over the last couple of years (forgive me my wife =D ) it was the most remarkable meeting with a young, brilliant and beautiful girl. And her name is Peskovatka)
I look forward to new meetings!
Did some `spring cleaning` in my inventory;)
Cleaning stuff from MadPea available at the Arcade Gacha
Jeans from Maitreya
Boots from J's
House is from Hideki
Pose from Kirin Poses
During my recent holiday in Fuerteventura, I went for a walk one afternoon over some wasteland near to our hotel and came across this pretty cool stone.
I initially thought the stick was a lizard!
1969 Land Rover Series 2a. Tooling around Charlotte at sunset the other night and came across this cool wall.
"My 1st born son (who incidentally has a
green thumb) gave me these pretty Cal-
adiums at the beginning of the season.
I have really enjoyed their cool tropical
colors during these scorching hot Summer
Days we've been having! Thank you, My
Sweet Son!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"May you all have a Terrific Tuesday!"
~Mary Lou
René Magritte, Le chant de l'orage (1937)
Der Gesang des Gewitters
Ausstellung in der Schirn, Frankfurt am Main
The Eldrial Vale
Beneath an immeasurable sky, where clouds drifted like phantoms across a fathomless blue, the Eldrial Vale unfurled in solemn majesty. It was a place where time thickened, suspended between memory and forgetting. On either side, mountains loomed — their peaks scarred by lingering ice, white veins against weathered rock — watching all with an indifference carved by millennia. Forests of ancient trees draped their dark canopies down the slopes, their depths murmuring secrets to winds that slipped through the branches like unseen messengers.
A river, impossibly clear, wound its way through the valley’s heart, glinting like liquid glass drawn by an unseen hand. It wove intricate, unhurried arcs through the meadowlands, as if contemplating its own course. The water whispered across pebbles smoothed by the ages, its sound a language older than thought. There was a kind of sentience to its flow, a knowing grace that made the air around it feel charged — as though the very earth held its breath.
The valley floor stretched out, a wild expanse of mossy greens and russet grasses, interrupted by boulders tossed carelessly in some forgotten upheaval. Wildflowers, brilliant yet shy, clung to the edges of this fractured land, their delicate petals trembling beneath the weight of the sun’s late morning gaze. The air was dense with the scent of damp loam, cool stone, and distant water — a mingling of fragrances so subtle they bordered on memory.
It was a landscape that held itself apart, poised between serenity and unease. A stillness laced with tension, as though the land teetered on the brink of revelation. Here, beauty did not simply exist; it watched. The mountains neither welcomed nor forbade, their silence stretched taut, a canvas awaiting meaning. The river did not merely travel — it remembered, its path carved not just through rock, but through forgotten tales and unspoken longings.
Beyond the narrowing of the vale, where shadows braided themselves into the light, lay the passage into wilder realms. The valley's edges blurred, boundaries fading into uncertainty. Each step forward felt like a question pressed into the earth. And in that space between known and unknown, sunlight seemed to flicker, hesitant yet resolute — as though the world itself was deciding whether to unveil or obscure.
To stand here was to feel the enormity of stories untold, the ache of things almost remembered. The air thrummed with a quiet, dissonant music, vibrating with a tension that refused to resolve. The stones, the water, the wind — they all seemed to pause, expectant, holding within them the possibility of revelation or retreat.
This was Eldrial: a place where the world tilted ever so slightly, unsettling in its beauty, magnetic in its mystery — an edge between what was and what might yet be.
--------------------------------------
To wander these landscapes, whether in vision or in thought, is to touch a fragment of that boundless wonder. If the whisper of this vale calls to you, let your journey continue beyond these words. Discover more visions of untamed places and stories held in light and language at www.coronaviking.com — where the world awaits, ready to be seen anew.
--------------------------------------
Real Location: Routeburn Valley North in New Zealand's Southern Alps