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Anthony - Semaine 2 (s02) // Dream
I wanted what he had, America, it begins.
I want to fly, can you take me far away. Give me a star to reach for tell me what it takes and I’ll go so high. I’ll go so high, my feet won’t touch the ground. Stitch my wings and pull the strings. I bought these dreams that all fall down.
- www.flickr.com/photos/afavennec/
- All images copyright Anthony Favennec
A quick dash to Sutton Bridge Junc as the Rhtt returns back to Coleham on the last run of the season. 8-12-18.
This last run was exceptional with 50050 topping the consist between Crewe - Holyhead and back to Shrewsbury.
Fully expecting the fifty to be leading as it approached SBJ, it had arrived via Abbey Foregate and around the triangle.
The other bit that didn't go to plan was the dreamy effect of a steamed up front element of my lens after getting a good soaking at Hadnall!
This jacket is my dream ... was looking for this style in soft red leather forever ♥️ With black pants & red stilettos 👠 or biker boots ♀️
This image represents the dreams that we all have, in which all of us .. and we hope that with a bit of fantasy and imagination that we can all reach .. To all of you friends sims! Kisses .. <3
this is the sentence written in the image, translated from Italian to English:
"Each of us has a pair of wings, but only those who dream learn to fly"
Jim Morrison
SORRY MY ENGLISH!!!! <3
Midnight summer dream
by Andrey Zakirzyanov
oil on canvas
150x120 cm
2005
My animations & videoart here - www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=F07F0FC9A199F76B
Андрей Закирзянов.
"Сон в летнюю ночь"
This Trabant guards the allotments just behind my house.
It has no wheels and is full of garden tools.
Very early morning, cruising up the west coast of Greenland. At this time of the year the Sun never goes down.
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
Hamlet (III, i, 65-68)
A sculpture set atop the old spoil heap of the old Sutton Manor colliery site. designed by Spanish artist Jaume Plensa
I've just closed my eyes again
Climbed aboard the dream weaver train
Driver take away my worries of today
And leave tomorrow behind. . .
Everyone loves to Dream.
But the most interesting ones are the open-eyed dreamy-eyed stories. Half-Dream Half-made-up-Truth.
Lovely.
A fun series of 6 Photographs.
What Women Do. When Left Alone.
*Only 6 Pictures made it to Flickr after Censorship.
:D
Место отправки - рядом с городом Ковров - maps.google.com/?q=56.23316598,41.306177166&z=16 от isaev_dream оригинал - www.instagram.com/p/BCTDsfRIdup/
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Model // Anne Faber
Spanish artist, Juame Plensa created a sculpture for the northwest side of The Bow Tower, called Alberta’s Dream. The bronze cast of a man embracing a live tree — a self-portrait of Plensa — is intimate and yet connected to community, with the body wearing names of places in Alberta.
“It is a beautiful metaphor in the way that our soul is coming up from our interior body like a tree which is always alive” (Juame Plensa)
Photographed at the Bow Tower outdoor plaza
Where falling asleep ends and dreaming begins.
The cliffside forest of Rügen have a very enchanted forest feel to them. Such a beautiful place.
dream m4 equipped with an EOTech XPS, PEQ-15, a custom mag plate, flip up iron sights and an ambidextrous fire selector.
credit to:
jake - for the PEQ design and the waffle mag
beck - for the rail shading
A Dream Within A Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
~Edgar Allan Poe~