Diseño Grafico en Español
View allAll Photos Tagged dise
Oh, hush, my dear, it's been a difficult year
And terrors don’t prey on innocent victims
Trust me, darling, trust me darling
It’s been a loveless year
I'm a man of three fears:
Integrity, faith, and crocodile tears
Trust me, darling, trust me, darling
So look me in the eyes (Eyes), tell me what you see (You see)
Perfect paradise (—Dise), tearing at the seams (Seams)
I wish I could escape it (Escape), I don't wanna fake it
Wish I could erase it (Erase), make your heart believe
With this beautiful hibiscus flower I'm taking a little break from the landscape shots today. But this picture was also taken on Madeira. To be precise, this flower comes from a hibiscus hedge that ran around my hotel. What a sight, three different colors beamed at me every time I passed there.
Of course I had to photograph them too, even though I didn't have my macro lens with me and didn't get as close as I would have liked.
Nevertheless, I am enthusiastic about all three and am looking forward to showing them here. This is #1.
Mit dieser wunderschönen Hibiskus Blüte mache ich heute eine kleine Pause von den Landschaftsaufnahmen. Doch auch dieses Bild entstand auf Madeira. Um genau zu sein stammt dise Blüte von einer Hibiskus Hecke, die mein um mein Hotel herum verlief. Was für ein Anblick, drei verschiedene Farben strahlten mir jedesmal entgegen, wenn ich dort vorbei gekommen bin.
Natürlich musste ich die auch fotografieren, auch wenn ich mein Makroobjektiv nicht dabei hatte und dahei nicht nah heran gekommen bin, wie ich es gern getan hätte.
Trotzdem bin ich von allen dreien begeistert und freue mich schon darauf, sie hier zu zeigen. Das ist Nr. 1.
more of this on my website at: www.shoot-to-catch.de
Morning Mist over the Korana
The silence settles like a breath of the sky,
the river breathes in mist as the city sleeps.
Korana carries the shimmer of the first light —
soft, half-dreaming, like thoughts that linger before dawn.
Jutarnja sumaglica nad Koranom
Tišina se spušta poput daha neba,
rijeka diše u magli, a grad još spava.
Korana nosi odsjaj prvih zraka,
nježno, gotovo sneno, poput misli koje još ne žele postati dan.
Boats Waiting for Their Breath of Adventure
Maybe that’s the magic of mornings like this —
nothing moves, yet everything whispers.
The river, the fog, the wooden boats…
all waiting, patient and calm, ready for the next journey with a fishing rod or a curious child discovering the first secrets of the Korana.
Čamci što čekaju svoj dah avanture
U magli koja kao tanak veo prati jutra na KoranI, sve se stiša.
Čak i rijeka diše sporije, kao da ne želi poremetiti mir ovih starih čamaca što čekaju svoj dah avanture.
Jesenski tonovi uz obalu pretvaraju prizor u mekani akvarel — tišina u kojoj se može čuti i vlastita misao.
The Winter Peace of an Old Boat
Some journeys don’t end — they simply grow quiet.
This old boat, resting on the bank of the Korana River, feels like a soul that has travelled far, seen much, and finally found a place where it no longer needs to move.
After years of motion, noise and restless days, I found my peace beside the river.
The Korana keeps flowing, bringing new boats, swans and fishermen.
But along its shore, time softens.
Silence blends with birdsong, water breathes, and you can finally hear yourself again.
This boat is not abandoned.
It is resting.
Just like us, when we find our harbor.
Zimski mir starog čamca
Postoje trenuci kad putovanje ne završava – nego samo utihne.
Ovaj stari čamac, vezan uz obalu rijeke Korane, podsjeća me na čovjeka koji je puno toga vidio, puno toga prošao… i sada je pronašao mjesto gdje može samo biti.
Nakon godina kretanja, buke i unutarnjih nemira, mir sam pronašao uz rijeku.
Korana ne stoji – ona teče, nosi nove čamce, labudove, ribolovce i priče.
Ali uz njezinu obalu, vrijeme se ponaša drugačije.
Tišina se miješa s pjevom ptica, voda diše, a čovjek napokon može čuti samoga sebe.
Ovaj čamac nije napušten.
On samo odmara.
Kao i mi, kad napokon pronađemo svoju luku.
When a Boat Reaches for Winter Sun
Winter sun on the Korana River does not last long,
but it warms honestly.
Low, gentle and rare —
that is why everyone seeks it.
People, birds… even boats.
This small boat slowly pushes its bow out of the cold shadow,
just enough to feel the quiet glow of winter sun on the wood.
Not for a journey,
but for that brief warmth that reminds us the light is still here.
Black and white leaves only what matters:
still water,
a modest sun,
and time breathing slowly.
Korana River, Karlovac —
a river that knows the value of a single sunlit moment.
Kad čamac traži zimsko sunce
Zimsko sunce na Korani ne grije dugo,
ali grije iskreno.
Nisko je, blago i rijetko –
i zato mu se svi raduju.
Ljudi, ptice… pa čak i čamci.
Ovaj mali čamac gura svoj pramac iz hladne sjene,
tek toliko da osjeti žar zimskog sunca na drvu.
Ne zbog puta,
nego zbog one tihe topline koja podsjeća da je svjetlo još uvijek tu.
Crno-bijela fotografija ostavlja samo bitno:
vodu koja miruje,
sunce koje se ne nameće
i vrijeme koje polako diše.
Korana, Karlovac –
rijeka koja zna koliko vrijedi jedan sunčan trenutak.
🍄 Silent elegance of moss
In the quiet dampness of the forest, when the day hesitates between light and shadow,
a fragile beauty emerges from the moss.
A small mushroom from the genus Mycena — delicate, silent, yet resilient.
There is no rush here, no audience.
Only calm, moisture in the air, and the patience of a photographer
who slows down, breathes softer, and waits for the world to quietly align within the frame.
Scenes like this do not ask for perfection.
They ask for presence.
And for a gentle love toward the small things
most people will never notice.
🍄 Tiha elegancija mahovine
U vlažnoj tišini šume, dok dan ne zna bi li bio svjetlo ili sjena,
iz mahovine se pojavi ova krhka, gotovo nestvarna ljepota.
Sitna gljiva iz roda Mycena — nježna, tiha, ali postojana.
Nema žurbe, nema publike.
Samo mir, malo vlage u zraku i strpljenje fotografa
koji čuči, diše sporije i čeka da se svijet sam posloži u kadar.
Ovakvi prizori ne traže savršenstvo.
Traže prisutnost.
I malo ljubavi prema malim stvarima koje većina nikad ne vidi.
📍 šuma uz mahovinu, kasna jesen
📷 Canon R7 + TTartisan 100mm (2× macro) + LED arm
Sunday Over the Old Town
On a quiet Sunday afternoon, Karlovac opens like an old book — every house, every rooftop, every streak of cloud holding its own memory.
Here, on the green traces of the former fortress walls, the city breathes the same way it did centuries ago: softly, steadily, gently — as if time moves slower here.
The newly renovated tower of the Church of the Holy Trinity, the oldest church in Karlovac built together with the town in the late 16th century, stands bright with its fresh roof and gilded cross. It anchors the panorama, reminding us that past and present often touch in moments as calm as this one.
Paths curve through the park, autumn shrubs rest in muted colours, and the sky breaks open above it all.
And the city — my city — feels peaceful, grounded and quietly luminous.
Nedjelja nad starim Karlovcem
U miru jedne tihe nedjelje, Karlovac se otvara kao stara knjiga — svaka kuća, svaki krov i svaka oblačna brazda čuva svoju priču.
Ovdje, na zelenim ostacima starog bedema, grad diše jednako kao prije stoljeća: tiho, postojano i blago, kao da vrijeme klizi mekše nego drugdje.
Renovirani toranj crkve Presvetog Trojstva, najstarije karlovačke crkve građene s gradom još u 16. stoljeću, sada ponovno sjaji svojim novim krovom i pozlaćenim križem. U središtu panorame stoji kao podsjetnik da se prošlost i sadašnjost često susretnu baš u tihim trenucima poput ove nedjelje.
Dok se staze provlače kroz park i jesensko grmlje, pogled bježi prema krovovima, zvoniku i nebu koje obećava promjenu.
A grad — moj grad — čini se miran, dostojanstven i neobično nježan.
Autumn on the banks of the Korana
Another from the series “Korana in Autumn Mornings II – Karlovac, 2025.”
Colors slowly fade, yet the light still breathes between the trees.
Clouds drift like boats of memory, while the river carries the silence between its shores.
In this calm, autumn finds its reflection.
Jesen na obali Korane
Još jedna iz serije “Korana u jesenja jutra II – Karlovac, 2025.”
Boje polako gasnu, ali svjetlost još uvijek diše među granama.
Oblaci plove kao barke sjećanja, a rijeka šuti, noseći tišinu između obala.
U ovom miru jesen nalazi svoje ogledalo.
Silence in Motion
Snow falls gently over the Korana River,
while the small waterfall breathes in a calm, steady rhythm.
Winter erases colors, leaving only tones and contrasts —
a moment where nature speaks softly, yet clearly.
Korana River waterfall, Karlovac.
A winter morning where water flows and time seems to pause.
Tišina koja teče
Snijeg tiho pada nad Koranom,
a slapić diše svojim mirnim ritmom.
Zima briše boje, ostavlja samo tonove i kontraste —
trenutak u kojem priroda govori tiše, ali jasnije.
Slapić na rijeci Korani, Karlovac.
Zimsko jutro u kojem voda teče, a vrijeme kao da zastane.
Morning in the Port of Krk
Morning in the port.
The sea is calm, boats rest by the quay, and the air is filled with salt and stillness.
Fishermen unload their catch, while one man with a fishing rod waits — perhaps for breakfast, perhaps just for peace.
The sky is heavy with clouds mirrored in the water, and the island breathes in silence.
Jutro u luci Krk
Jutro u luci.
More mirno, brodice vezane uz rivu, a zrak pun mirisa soli i svježine.
Ribari istovaruju ulov, dok jedan ribič sa štapom tiho čeka svoj trenutak — možda doručak, možda samo spokoj.
Nebo je teško, puno oblaka koji se preslikavaju u vodi, a Krk diše onim tihim ritmom kakav samo otok poznaje.
Kad nebo odluči krenuti prema horizontu, kao u letu, oblaci dobiju krila.
More šumi pod njima, stijene stoje kao nijemi svjedoci, a valovi – razbijaju tišinu.
Jedan od onih trenutaka kad se čini da priroda diše punim plućima.
When the sky seems to move toward the horizon, as if flying, clouds grow wings.
The sea whispers below, rocks stand as silent witnesses, and waves — break the silence.
One of those moments when nature breathes deeply.
Quand le ciel semble voler vers l’horizon, les nuages prennent leur envol.
La mer murmure, les rochers observent, les vagues brisent le silence.
Un instant où la nature respire à plein poumons.
Wenn der Himmel sich zum Horizont neigt, scheinen die Wolken Flügel zu bekommen.
Das Meer rauscht, die Felsen schweigen, und die Wellen durchbrechen die Stille.
Ein Augenblick, in dem die Natur tief durchatmet.
Quando il cielo sembra volare verso l’orizzonte, le nuvole prendono il volo.
Il mare sussurra, le rocce osservano, le onde infrangono il silenzio.
Un momento in cui la natura respira a pieni polmoni.
Cuando el cielo se lanza hacia el horizonte, las nubes despliegan sus alas.
El mar susurra, las rocas observan, las olas rompen el silencio.
Un momento en que la naturaleza respira profundamente.
The Proud Leader
In the calm of an early morning, on water barely moving, one swan stepped forward — quietly, confidently, speaking only with his gaze.
He took the lead, steady and composed, guiding his small white procession as they followed the rhythm of the river.
For a moment, it felt like a gentle ceremony of nature, a ritual revealed only to those who wait long enough for the world to exhale.
Ponosni predvodnik
U tihom jutru, na vodi koja jedva diše, pojavio se jedan labud koji je odmah uzeo riječ — bez glasa, bez žurbe, samo pogledom.
Stao je prvi, hrabro i mirno, kao da vodi mali bijeli orkestar koji mu vjerno slijedi svaki val.
Na trenutak je cijeli prizor izgledao kao mala ceremonija prirode, ritual koji se događa samo kad čovjek dovoljno dugo stoji i čeka da se svijet otvori.
Silence in the Mist — Peace on the Banks of Korana
Somewhere between dream and reality, the mist wrapped the Korana riverbank.
Three silent boats — each holding a story of fishermen, quiet walks, and peaceful mornings — rest by the shore.
Leaves whisper underfoot, breath hangs in the air, and even the river seems to breathe slower.
There’s no noise, no rush — only time flowing softly, like memory itself.
Tišina u magli — mir na obali Korane
Negdje između sna i stvarnosti, magla je prekrila obalu Korane.
Tri tihe barke, svaka s pričom o ribarima, šetnjama i trenucima nedjeljnog mira, stoje kao čuvari jutra.
Lišće šušti pod nogama, dah se vidi u zraku, a sve oko mene miruje — kao da i rijeka diše sporije.
Nema buke, nema žurbe, samo vrijeme koje teče u svom ritmu.
Sunčani šapati srpnja
Negdje u srpnju, dok popodnevno sunce prosipa zlatnu tišinu po raslinju i suhoj travi, svijet se nakratko zaustavi.
Sve miruje, sve diše sporije.
U takvim trenucima, priroda upija toplinu i pretvara je u novu snagu, baš kao što to čini svakog ljeta, tiho i uporno, bez žurbe...
Sun-soaked whispers of July
Somewhere in July, while the afternoon sun pours golden silence over the grass and shrubs, the world briefly pauses.
Everything slows down, everything breathes deeper.
In those moments, nature absorbs the warmth and turns it into new strength — just as it does every summer, quietly and persistently, never in a hurry...
🇭🇷 Vrbnik – pjesma uklesana u stijenu
Na strmoj hridi što izranja iz modrine Jadrana, smjestio se Vrbnik – gradić koji se ne gleda samo očima, već i srcem. Stari ribarski i vinarski biser otoka Krka, poznat po svojoj povijesti, jeziku, vinu i nevjerojatnom duhu koji i danas živi među kamenim zidovima.
Vrbnik je kolijevka glagoljice, starog hrvatskog pisma koje se ovdje stoljećima njegovalo u crkvenim i pravnim spisima. Iz ovih ulica potekla je i prva hrvatska tiskana knjiga na glagoljici – “Misal po zakonu rimskoga dvora” iz 1483. godine. Ovdje prošlost nije zakopana – ona diše u svakom kamenu.
Ali Vrbnik nije samo tišina arhiva. On ima okus – okus žlahtine, autohtone sorte bijelog vina koja se ne može naći nigdje drugdje osim na okolnim padinama. Lagana, osvježavajuća i istodobno duboka, žlahtina je poput samog Vrbnika – jednostavna, a posebna.
Ako se uputiš u šetnju, naići ćeš i na Klančić, jednu od najužih ulica u Europi – toliko usku da kroz nju možeš proći samo bočno, i to bez daha. U toj pukotini kamena skriva se simbol vrbnicke skromnosti i snalažljivosti – jer gdje je malo prostora, ima mjesta samo za ono najvažnije.
Nad svime bdije zvonik crkve Uznesenja Marijina, kao tihi svjetionik duhovnosti i tradicije. Vrbnik nije samo prizor – on je doživljaj. Fotografija ne hvata sve, ali ako joj dodaš priču, možda netko osjeti vjetar što miriše na borove, more i davninu.
🇬🇧 Vrbnik – a song carved in stone
Perched on a steep cliff rising from the blue Adriatic, Vrbnik is not just a town – it’s a place you feel with your heart. An old fishing and winemaking gem of the island of Krk, known for its history, language, wine, and the enduring spirit etched into every stone.
Vrbnik is the cradle of Glagolitic script, the oldest known Slavic alphabet, preserved for centuries in religious and legal texts. One of the first Croatian printed books – the Glagolitic Missal of 1483 – was born of this tradition.
But Vrbnik is not only about silence and history. It has a taste – the taste of Žlahtina, a white wine grape grown only on the surrounding hills. Light, refreshing, yet full of character – just like the town itself.
Wander its streets and you’ll find Klančić, one of the narrowest streets in Europe – so narrow you can only pass sideways, holding your breath. A symbol of Vrbnik’s modesty and charm.
Above it all stands the bell tower of the Church of the Assumption, a quiet sentinel over the sea. A photograph captures the view – but a story reveals the soul.
🇫🇷 Vrbnik – un chant gravé dans la pierre
Perché sur une falaise abrupte dominant l’Adriatique, Vrbnik est bien plus qu’un simple village – c’est un lieu qui se ressent avec le cœur. Ancien bastion de pêcheurs et de vignerons sur l’île de Krk, Vrbnik est célèbre pour son histoire, sa langue, son vin et une âme profondément enracinée dans la pierre.
Vrbnik est le berceau de l’écriture glagolitique, l’un des plus anciens alphabets slaves, transmis au fil des siècles dans des textes religieux et juridiques. Le premier missel croate imprimé en glagolitique en 1483 en est l’un des joyaux.
Mais Vrbnik, ce n’est pas que du passé. C’est aussi un goût – celui du Žlahtina, un vin blanc local, léger et vif, mais avec une vraie personnalité. Tout comme Vrbnik.
En flânant dans ses ruelles, vous découvrirez Klančić, l’une des rues les plus étroites d’Europe – si étroite qu’il faut se faufiler de côté. Une belle métaphore de l’humilité et de l’authenticité de Vrbnik.
Et au sommet, le clocher de l’église de l’Assomption veille en silence sur la mer. Une photo peut figer l’instant – une histoire, elle, lui donne une âme.
🇩🇪 Vrbnik – ein Lied in Stein gemeißelt
Auf einem steilen Felsen über der Adria thront Vrbnik – ein Ort, den man nicht nur sieht, sondern spürt. Ein uraltes Fischerdorf und Weindorf auf der Insel Krk, bekannt für seine Geschichte, seine Sprache, seinen Wein und seine Seele, die in jedem Stein weiterlebt.
Vrbnik gilt als Wiege der Glagoliza, der ältesten slawischen Schrift, die hier jahrhundertelang in kirchlichen und rechtlichen Dokumenten bewahrt wurde. Einer der ersten gedruckten Texte in kroatischer Sprache – das Glagolitische Messbuch von 1483 – stammt aus dieser Tradition.
Doch Vrbnik ist nicht nur Geschichte. Es hat auch einen Geschmack – den der Žlahtina, einer autochthonen Weißweinsorte, die nur hier gedeiht. Frisch, leicht, und doch voller Charakter – genau wie der Ort selbst.
In den engen Gassen findest du Klančić, eine der schmalsten Straßen Europas – so eng, dass man nur seitlich hindurchkommt. Ein Sinnbild für Vrbniks Bescheidenheit und Charme.
Hoch über allem wacht der Glockenturm der Kirche Mariä Himmelfahrt – wie ein stiller Wächter über das Meer. Ein Foto zeigt das Bild – aber eine Geschichte bringt es zum Leben.
🇪🇸 Vrbnik – una canción tallada en piedra
Encaramado sobre un acantilado que se eleva desde el mar Adriático, Vrbnik no es solo un pueblo – es una experiencia que se siente con el alma. Un antiguo enclave pesquero y vinícola de la isla de Krk, célebre por su historia, su lengua, su vino y su espíritu eterno.
Vrbnik es cuna de la escritura glagolítica, el alfabeto eslavo más antiguo, conservado durante siglos en manuscritos religiosos y jurídicos. De aquí surge uno de los primeros libros impresos en croata: el Misal glagolítico de 1483.
Pero Vrbnik no solo habla del pasado. Tiene un sabor – el de la Žlahtina, un vino blanco local, ligero pero con carácter. Tal como el pueblo que lo produce.
Recorriendo sus callejuelas encontrarás Klančić, una de las calles más estrechas de Europa – tan angosta que se cruza de lado. Un símbolo de la humildad y autenticidad de Vrbnik.
Sobre todo ello se eleva el campanario de la iglesia de la Asunción, como un guardián silencioso del tiempo y del mar. Una imagen muestra la forma – pero una historia revela su alma.
🇮🇹 Vrbnik – una canzone scolpita nella pietra
Arroccato su una scogliera che si tuffa nell’Adriatico, Vrbnik è più di un semplice borgo – è un luogo che si sente con il cuore. Antico villaggio di pescatori e viticoltori sull’isola di Krk, è famoso per la sua storia, la lingua, il vino e un’anima che vive tra le sue pietre.
Vrbnik è la culla della scrittura glagolitica, l’alfabeto slavo più antico, conservato qui per secoli nei testi religiosi e giuridici. Da questa tradizione nacque uno dei primi libri stampati in croato: il Messale glagolitico del 1483.
Ma Vrbnik non è solo storia. Ha anche un sapore – quello della Žlahtina, un vino bianco autoctono, fresco e leggero, ma ricco di carattere. Come Vrbnik stesso.
Passeggiando tra i vicoli scoprirai Klančić, una delle vie più strette d’Europa – così stretta che si attraversa solo di lato. Un piccolo simbolo della semplicità e autenticità di questo luogo.
Sopra tutto svetta il campanile della Chiesa dell’Assunzione, silenzioso custode del tempo e del mare. Una foto mostra la scena – ma una storia ne svela l’anima.
maliOli PHOTO art
Okasti okaš na postelji bijelih snova
Na bijelim cvjetićima, poput meke postelje, zaustavio se okasti okaš — jedan od tihih čuvara naših ljetnih staza. Njegove "oči" na krilima nisu samo ljepota, već i obrana u svijetu gdje svaki let nosi rizik. Fotografirano rano ujutro, kada još i svjetlost šapuće, a priroda diše sporije.
Chestnut Heath on a Bed of White Dreams
Resting gently on a bed of tiny white blooms, the Chestnut Heath (Coenonympha arcania) shows its beautifully patterned "eyes" — both decoration and defense. Captured in the calm of an early summer morning, when the light still whispers and nature breathes in slow rhythm.
The Held Breath of Autumn
Between light and dew,
this leaf remained — a thought unwilling to drift away.
Each drop holds the memory of the sun,
of a day that has passed, yet still breathes in color.
Zadržani dah jeseni
Na tankoj niti između svjetla i rose,
ostao je taj list — kao misao što se ne da otpuhati.
Svaka kap na njemu čuva uspomenu na sunce,
na dan koji je prošao, ali još diše u boji.
Svitanje nad lukom Krka — mir u oblacima i svjetlu
U luci grada Krka, u tišini svitanja, prve zrake sunca probijaju se kroz sivo i teško nebo. Refleksija brodova i oblaka na mirnome moru stapa se s konturama staroga grada, dok se toranj katedrale uzdiže s Anđelom koji već stoljećima čuva Krk.
Oblaci se razmiču poput zastora, a svjetlost koja se probija usmjerena je prema gradu — kao da jutro samo želi probuditi njegove zidine, trgove i kamene ulice.
Grad Krk, jedan od najstarijih gradova na Jadranu, svoje korijene vuče još iz ilirskog i rimskog doba, a katedrala s prepoznatljivim zvonikom i kipom Anđela postala je njegov simbol. U ovom trenutku, grad diše mir, dok se dan polako rađa iz tame.
Dawn over the Harbor of Krk — Peace in Clouds and Light
In the harbor of Krk, at the stillness of dawn, the first rays of sunlight pierce through the heavy grey clouds. The reflection of boats and clouds on the calm sea merges with the outlines of the old town, while the cathedral tower rises proudly, crowned by the Angel that has guarded the city for centuries.
The clouds open like curtains, and the rays of light seem directed towards the town — as if the morning itself wishes to awaken its walls, squares, and stone alleys.
Krk, one of the oldest towns on the Adriatic, traces its roots back to the Illyrian and Roman times. Its cathedral with the distinctive bell tower and the Angel above it has become a symbol of protection. At this moment, the city breathes peace, as the day slowly emerges from darkness.
The Morning When the Boat Slept
In the calm of morning, while the northern wind whispers through the willows, an old boat sleeps in the water.
It doesn’t sink — it rests. The wood breathes, drinking in the damp air, keeping memories alive of early fishing trips and quiet dawns.
Here in Karlovac, along the Kupa River, tradition still lingers — the wisdom that both wood and the human heart need to submerge sometimes, to stay whole.
Jutro kada je čamac spavao
U miru jutra, dok sjeverac tiho prolazi kroz vrbe, stari čamac spava u vodi.
Ne tone — nego odmara. Drvo diše, upija vlagu i budi uspomene na dane kada se njime odlazilo po ribu, po svitanje, po mir.
U Karlovcu, uz Kupu, još se ponegdje vidi ta ljepota jednostavnosti — tradicija starih brodara koji su znali da drvo, kao i čovjek, mora s vremena na vrijeme “uroniti” da bi ostalo živo.
Rosmarie ist als Gewürz für Speisen bekannt, es wird in der Kosmetik verwendet und ist ein uraltes Heilkraut. Das heutige Thema bei Macro Monday lautet: Aberglaube
Für diese Thema habe ich im Internet recherchiert was vestehen wir unter Aberglaube unter anderem bei Wikipedia? Drei Aussagen möchte ich mit Euch teilen:
„Der Aberglaube ist ein Kind der Furcht, der Schwachheit und der Unwissenheit.“ Sagt Friedrich der Große
„Der Aberglaube ist die Poesie des Lebens.“ Lässt Goethe in Maximen und Reflexsionen seinen Held sagen!
Emanuel Geibel schreibt
„Glaube, dem die Tür versagt,
steigt als Aberglaub' ins Fenster.
Wenn die Götter ihr verjagt,
kommen die Gespenster.“
Das Rosmarie ist als Gewürz für Speisen, es wird in der Kosmetik verwendet und ein uraltes Heilkraut ist, dürfte hinlänglich bekannt sein. Je nach Land und Region wird es auch anders genannt, wie zum Beispiel:
Brautkraut, Marienkraut, Meertau….um nur einige zu nennen.
Überrascht hat mich aber als ich las, das in Belgien der Rosmarin als Symbol des Lebens gilt; hier bringt nicht der Storch die Kinder zur Welt, sondern sie werden aus einem Rosmarinstrauch geholt.
Rosmarien wächst auf meinem Balkon, die kleinen Babyfiguren dürften Eisenbahnfans bekannt sein, fand ich einem Fachgeschäft für Eisenbahnen und Zubehör. Nun musste ich nur noch alles anordnen und fotografieren.
Danke für Euren Besuch, Kommentar und Stern sind willkommen.
Ich wünsche Euch eine wunderschönen Tag und eine heitere Woche liebe Freunde.
Rosemary is used as a spice for food, it is used in cosmetics and is an ancient medicinal herb. Today's topic at Macro Monday is: Superstition
For this topic I have researched on the Internet what do we mean by superstition in Wikipedia? I would like to share three statements with you:
"Superstition is a child of fear, weakness and ignorance." Says Frederick the Great
"Superstition is the poetry of life." Let Goethe say his hero in maxims and reflections!
Emanuel Geibel writes
"Faith which the door denies,
goes in the window as superstition.
When the gods chase her away,
the ghosts come."
Rosemary is used as a spice for food, it is used in cosmetics and is an ancient medicinal herb, should be well known. Depending on the country and region, it is also called differently, for example:
Bridal herb, Marienkraut, Meertau...just to name a few.
But I was surprised when I read that in Belgium rosemary is a symbol of life; here it is not the stork that gives birth to the children, but they are brought from a rosemary bush.
Rosemary grows on my balcony, the little baby figures should be known to railway fans, I found a specialist shop for railways and accessories. Now all I had to do was arrange and photograph everything.
Thanks for your visit, comments and star are welcome.
I wish you a wonderful day and a cheerful week dear friends.
Le romarin est utilisé comme épice alimentaire, il est utilisé en cosmétique et est une herbe médicinale ancienne. Le sujet d'aujourd'hui au Macro Monday est : Superstition
Pour ce sujet, j'ai fait des recherches sur Internet pour savoir ce que nous entendons par superstition dans Wikipedia. J'aimerais partager trois déclarations avec vous :
"La superstition est un enfant de peur, de faiblesse et d'ignorance." Dit Frédéric le Grand
"La superstition est la poésie de la vie." Que Goethe dise son héros en maximes et en réflexions !
Emanuel Geibel écrit
"La foi que la porte nie,
va à la fenêtre comme une superstition.
Quand les dieux la chasseront,
les fantômes viennent."
Le romarin est utilisé comme épice pour l'alimentation, il est utilisé en cosmétique et est une herbe médicinale ancienne, devrait être bien connue. Selon le pays et la région, on l'appelle aussi différemment, par exemple :
Herbe nuptiale, Marienkraut, Meertau...pour n'en nommer que quelques-uns.
Mais j'ai été surpris quand j'ai lu qu'en Belgique, le romarin est un symbole de vie ; ici, ce n'est pas la cigogne qui donne naissance aux enfants, mais ils sont apportés d'un buisson de romarin.
Rosemary pousse sur mon balcon, les petits bébés devraient être connus des amateurs de chemin de fer, j'ai trouvé un magasin spécialisé dans les chemins de fer et les accessoires. Il ne me restait plus qu'à tout arranger et à tout photographier.
Merci de votre visite, commentaires et étoile sont les bienvenus.
Je vous souhaite une merveilleuse journée et une bonne semaine, chers amis.
Traduit avec www.DeepL.com/Translator
Thoughts Drifting Down the Korana
Misty Saturday morning on the Korana River.
A fisherman sits in silence, floats barely moving, water breathing softly.
Nothing happens — and yet, everything does.
In that stillness, thoughts drift downstream, unhurried and free.
Sometimes, not seeing clearly is exactly what we need.
Misli koje plove Koranom
Maglovito subotnje jutro na Korani.
Ribić sjedi tiho, plovci miruju, voda jedva diše.
Ništa se ne događa — a događa se sve.
U toj tišini misli ne stoje.
One plove niz rijeku, bez žurbe, bez plana,
baš onako kako i život ponekad traži od nas.
A magla?
Ona ne skriva — ona pojednostavljuje.
Lukobran u suton
Na kraju dana, lukobran diše smiraj mora. Svjetiljke se pale kao tople misli, a ribar u daljini ostaje tihi svjedok prolaznosti i nade.
Breakwater at Dusk
At the day’s end, the breakwater breathes the calm of the sea. Lanterns glow like warm thoughts, and the fisherman in the distance becomes a silent witness of transience and hope.
Reflections dance on the water, weaving the story of evening light into a quiet memory.
Reflection of Winter Stillness
A quiet morning on the Korana, the kind that happens only when winter freezes every sound and the river becomes a mirror that whispers in the rhythm of the clouds.
The long line of poplars, slender and silent, stands like a gentle winter procession. Each of them carries its own story, and all of them are reflected on the river’s surface — perfectly, motionlessly, almost unreal.
Where the mirror breaks at the small waterfall, the photograph begins to breathe: the upper part remains calm, while the lower part becomes the rhythm of the water.
The wide-angle view of the Canon R7 and the RF 16mm captured the entire winter day in a single panoramic sentence — from the pontoon bridge, across the old wooden bridge, all the way to the quiet left bank.
This is the Korana as we don’t see it every day. Pure, simple, beautiful.
Odraz tišine uz jablane
Mirno jutro na Korani, ono koje se dogodi samo kad zima zaustavi svaki šum, a rijeka postane zrcalo koje šapće u ritmu oblaka.
Duga linija jablana, vitkih i tihih, stoji kao u nekoj tihoj zimskoj procesiji. Svaki od njih ima svoju priču, a sve se one preslikavaju na površinu rijeke — savršeno, nepomično, gotovo nestvarno.
Tamo gdje se ogledalo lomi u slapiću, fotografija diše: gornji dio ostaje mir, donji postaje ritam vode.
Širokokutni pogled Canon R7 i RF 16mm uhvatio je cijeli zimski dan u jednoj panoramskoj rečenici — od pontonskog mosta, preko starog drvenog mosta, sve do tihe lijeve obale.
Ovo je Korana kakvu ne vidimo svaki dan. Čista, jednostavna, prelijepa.
Mir pod mostom, nemir na nebu
Ispod starog drvenog mosta na Korani, čamci miruju dok se nebo budi u nemiru. Karlovac diše u ritmu rijeke – spokoj i neizvjesnost u istom kadru.
Calm under the bridge, unrest in the sky
Under the old wooden bridge on the Korana, the boats rest while the sky wakes in unrest. Karlovac breathes in the rhythm of the river – serenity and uncertainty sharing the same frame.
Morning of the Swans on the Korana
The morning awakens on the Korana River — a hush before the day speaks.
Swans glide through golden reflections, poplars drink the first light, and the water mirrors the quiet rhythm of dawn.
Jutro labudova na Korani
Korana se budi pod mirisom svježine i cvrkutom ptica.
Sunce tek proviruje, labudovi klize po vodi, a visoki jablanovi stoje u tišini, kupajući se u prvim zrakama. Sve je mirno, a opet puno života – kao da dan diše prije nego progovori.
Swan and the Boat in the Mist
Morning over the Korana River.
Silence breathes with the water.
A swan drifts calmly, while the old boat waits behind — guarding a memory of days long gone.
The fog erases every edge, turning the shore into a dream, and every ripple into a whisper.
Between the swan and the boat lies the story of peace, time, and quiet belonging.
Labud i čamac u magli
Jutro nad Koranom.
Tišina kao da diše s vodom.
Labud plovi mirno, a iza njega, gotovo nestvarno, čeka stari čamac — kao da čuva tajnu nekih prošlih dana.
Magla briše sve granice, pretvara obalu u san, a svaki val postaje sjećanje.
U toj jednostavnosti, između labuda i čamca, stane cijela priča o miru, vremenu i povjerenju prirodi.
Sunset over Šilo
On the shore, silence hums softly between voices of fishermen.
The sea breathes gently, the sand still warm from the day, and the sky melts into the color of orange and wine.
On the pier, each soul finds its peace – some seek fish, some quiet, some just a fleeting moment to hold.
Every seaside evening feels the same, yet never truly repeats itself.
Zalazak nad Šilom
Na obali tišina i poneki glas ribiča.
More diše lagano, pijesak još topao od dana, a nebo kao da se rastapa u boji naranče i vina.
Na rivi svatko u svom svijetu – neki love ribu, neki mir, neki samo traže trenutak što ostaje.
Tako je svaka večer na moru – ista, a nikada posve jednaka.
Jutro u luci grada Krka
U rano jutro, dok još svijetle ulične lampe i more diše u tišini, luka grada Krka otkriva svoj mirni ritam. Čamci i brodovi odmaraju na vodi poput sanjara, dok nebo skriva sunce iza sivih oblaka, odgađajući novi dan. Refleksije na površini mora obećavaju promjenjivo vrijeme – red kiše, red sunca, baš kao što jesen voli biti.
Morning in the Harbor of Krk
In the early morning, while streetlights are still glowing and the sea breathes in silence, the harbor of Krk reveals its quiet rhythm. Boats and yachts rest on the water like dreamers, while the sky hides the sun behind gray clouds, delaying the new day. Reflections on the sea’s surface promise a shifting mood — a touch of rain, a glimpse of sun, just as autumn likes to be.
Dawn Before the Storm
Heavy clouds rolled over Krk, hinting at an approaching storm, yet the first golden rays stubbornly broke through.
For a brief moment, the sea gleamed — as if it, too, was waiting for that flicker of morning hope.
Svitanje pred buru
Teški, olovni oblaci nad Krkom najavili su buru, ali prve zlatne zrake uporno su se probijale kroz tamu.
More je na trenutke zasjalo kao da diše lakše, kao da je i ono čekalo taj kratki bljesak jutarnje nade.
Moored to Silence
In the winter silence of the Korana River, a small boat waits.
Moored to the shore, but not bound by time.
No rush, no journey — only patience and calm.
Perhaps this is when we learn the most:
that we don’t always have to move forward,
sometimes it’s enough — to stay.
Korana River, Rakovac, Karlovac.
A quiet winter moment, a frame that breathes.
Privezan za tišinu
U zimskoj tišini Korane, jedan čamac mirno čeka.
Privezan uz obalu, ali ne i vezan za vrijeme.
Nema žurbe, nema plovidbe — samo strpljenje i mir.
Možda baš u takvim trenucima učimo ono najvažnije:
da ne moramo uvijek ići dalje,
ponekad je dovoljno — ostati.
Rijeka Korana, Rakovac, Karlovac.
Zima koja smiruje, kadar koji diše.
U plavičastoj tišini predvečerja, Vrbnik se smiruje kao san – nježno položen na hridi, okupan u baršunastu postelju svjetala i odraza. Sve utihne. More diše. Grad sanja.
In the bluish hush of twilight, Vrbnik quiets down like a dream—gently resting on the cliff, bathed in a velvet bed of light and reflections. Everything falls silent. The sea breathes. The town dreams.
Dans le silence bleuté du crépuscule, Vrbnik s’endort comme un rêve – doucement posé sur la falaise, baigné dans un lit de velours de lumières et de reflets. Tout se tait. La mer respire. La ville rêve.
In der bläulichen Stille der Abenddämmerung kommt Vrbnik zur Ruhe – sanft auf dem Felsen ruhend, eingehüllt in ein samtiges Bett aus Licht und Spiegelungen. Alles wird still. Das Meer atmet. Die Stadt träumt.
En el silencio azulado del crepúsculo, Vrbnik se calma como un sueño, suavemente posado sobre el acantilado, envuelto en un lecho de terciopelo de luces y reflejos. Todo calla. El mar respira. La ciudad sueña.
Nel silenzio bluastro del crepuscolo, Vrbnik si placa come un sogno – dolcemente adagiato sulla scogliera, immerso in un letto vellutato di luci e riflessi. Tutto tace. Il mare respira. La città sogna.
Šilo, in its winter sleep
While the world rushes forward,
Šilo still rests.
The breakwater remembers summer footsteps,
the green light keeps its watch,
and the sea breathes more slowly –
as if it knows there is nowhere else to go.
The sun warms it gently,
the way you warm a place you call home,
whispering:
the noisy days will return,
but this quiet time
belongs only to those who know how to listen.
Šilo, island of Krk – a place that stays with you, even in winter.
Šilo, zimski san
Dok veliki svijet juri,
Šilo još spava.
Lukobran pamti korake ljeta,
laterna čuva smjer,
a more diše sporije –
kao da zna da nigdje ne treba žuriti.
Sunce ga grije nježno,
onako kako se grije dom koji voliš,
i šapće:
doći će opet dani puni glasova,
ali ovo tiho vrijeme
pripada samo onima koji znaju slušati.
Šilo, otok Krk – mjesto gdje se i zimi ostaje.
Entering the city’s quiet
The city slowly slips into night.
An entrance, a pause, a transition.
Warm streetlights meet the last blue of the sky, and Karlovac quietly prepares for rest.
Ulaz u tišinu grada
Grad polako tone u noć.
Ulaz u staru jezgru Karlovca s “Ruskog puta” večeras je usko grlo – radovi traju, ali svjetlo već zna svoj put.
Nove laterne uz cestu, upaljeni prozori, toranj Presvetog Trojstva u daljini i, skriven u krošnjama, trag crkve sv. Nikole.
Stari grad diše sporije, ali postojano.
#CrazyTuesday #Inbetween
Diši.
Kad ti je muka od tuđih glasova. Kad vičeš: Umuknite sa vašim savetima i pozitivnostima i genijalnostima.
Diši.
Kad ne znaš di teraš. Kad sasvim lepo znaš di teraš. Kad se ta dva smenjuju kao dan i noć.
Diši.
Kad ti neko kaže: Previše ti razmišljaš.
Diši.
Kad ti se ne diše, već ti se isključivo roni u okeanu. Mada bi i tu disao, ali to je drugo.
Samo diši, diši duboko.
Stasa Vukadinovic
♥
Snow over the dome of Holy Trinity Church
In the old heart of Karlovac, while snow gently falls and softens the edges of the day, the new dome of the Holy Trinity Church glows beneath its white cover.
The city seems to breathe more slowly — as if listening to its own silence.
This is the moment when history and the present stand side by side, under the same snowfall.
Snijeg nad kupolom crkve Presvetog Trojstva
U staroj jezgri Karlovca, dok snijeg tiho pada i briše rubove dana, nova kupola crkve Presvetog Trojstva blista pod bijelim pokrivačem.
Grad izgleda kao da diše sporije — kao da i sam sluša vlastitu tišinu.
Ovo je onaj trenutak kad povijest i sadašnjost stoje jedno uz drugo, pod istim snijegom.