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Loonse en Drunense Duinen
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タイトルを「静寂の中の桜」にしようとしましたが、本当は酔っ払いの奇声でいっぱいだったのを思い出し違うタイトルにしました。
I intended to make the title of this picture "sakura in silence." But I remembered that the place I shot was filled with lots of drunkards loud. So I made it a different title.
And Matilda asks the sailors "are those dreams or are those prayers?"
So close your eyes, son, and this won't hurt a bit.
Oh it's time time time, and it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time.
Time by Tom Waits
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_eR0IVSOhY
I saw a Tom Waits tribute band last week. Three singers (one of which was Dave Grainy which Melbournians will know) and they took on the different personas of Tom- Bluesy piano playing drunkard, Circus performer madman and achingly beautiful troubadour. It was brilliant and reminded what a genius this man is.
One of the pluses about COVID was no colds or flues and illness in general down. Until now. This is the first time I have been sick for over 18 months. And I feel like crap!
The scientific name Euthryx potatoria was given to this moth by Carl Linnaeus in 1758. In choosing the name potatoria ‘drinker-like’, he was inspired by the Dutch entomologist Johannes Goedaert, who had called the animal dronckaerdt ‘drunkard’ “because it is very much inclined to drinking”. This remark refers to the moth’s habit of repeatedly plunging its head into the water.
The imago has a wingspan of 45–65 mm. The yellowish females are slightly larger than the orange-brown male but both sexes usually show the two distinctive white spots on the forewing. Females have slightly serrated antennae, while male have deeply combed antennae.
The fully grown larva is about 6 cm long, hairy, striped and spotted, with distinctive tufts fore and aft. Larvae hibernate while young and resume feeding in the spring, pupating in a cocoon during the summer.
This nocturnal moth flies from June to August depending on the location. Males especially are attracted to light. The females lay their eggs in small clusters, mainly on the stem of grasses or reeds. The larvae feed on various grasses and reeds (Alopecurus, Deschampsia, Dactylis, Elytrigia, Carex, Luzula and other Gramineae).
♫♫ Alexander Search | A Day of Sun ✔♫♫ Tuneeee !!
Lose in the one and living Whole
The limit that I call my mind,
The bounded thing I call my soul.
I love the things that children love
Yet with a comprehension deep
That lifts my pining soul above
Those in which life as yet doth sleep.
All things that simple are and bright,
Unnoticed unto keen‑worn wit,
With a child's natural delight
That makes me proudly weep at it.
I love the sun with personal glee,
The air as if I could embrace
Its wideness with my soul and be
A drunkard by expense of gaze.
I love the heavens with a joy
That makes me wonder at my soul,
It is a pleasure nought can cloy,
A thrilling I cannot control.
So stretched out here let me lie
Before the sun that soaks me up,
And let me gloriously die
Drinking too deep of living's cup;
Be swallowed of the sun and spread
Over the infinite expanse,
Dissolved, like a drop of dew dead
Lost in a super‑normal trance;
[And in a strange way undefined
Lose in the one and living Whole
The limit that I call my mind,
The bounded thing I call my soul.
Poesia Inglesa. Fernando Pessoa
I have walked many roads
I have opened many paths;
I have sailed a hundred seas
and docked on a hundred banks.
Everywhere I have seen
caravans of sadness,
arrogant and melancholic
drunkards of black shadow.
And pedantic to the cloth
who look, shut up and think
what do you know, why don't they drink
the wine from the taverns.
Bad people who walk
and the earth is stinking ...
And everywhere I have seen
people who dance or play,
when they can, and they work
its four spans of land.
Never, if they come to a site
they ask where they go.
When they walk they ride
on the back of an old mule.
And they don't know the rush
not even on holidays.
Where there is wine, they drink wine,
where there is no wine, fresh water
Antonio Machado
Luane's World - Le Monde Perdu - Winter, Le Monde Perdu (123, 61, 23) - Moderado
It's not her who gets drunk, its me.
There are many drunkards alley (aka 横丁 Yokocho) in Japan, however, it’s no exaggeration to say that Aoba Oden-Gai is one of the most alluring locations not only in Japan but also Asia.
The width of each bar’s entrance is shorter than six feet and red lanterns are hanged to show the name of tiny bars.
Some twenty bars are gathered here for nearly sixty years and always crowded with regular customers.
Taken in Shizuoka City, Japan.
Gear: Olympus OM-D E-M5+M.Zuiko 45mm F1.8
Setting: f/1.8 | 45.0mm | 1/100 | ISO 1000
Processed with Lightroom CC+Analog Efex Pro2
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「もう終電なくなっちまったよ もう帰れませーーーーん!嫁にさっき電話したけど着信拒否されたし・・・チッ ちょっとラーメンおごるよ!もう少し付き合えよw
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✜[Gild] _The Realtor's suit set for drunkards[Gacha]
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www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFp7q-IJqno&ob=av2n
Single book of matches, gonna burn whose standing in the way
Burning down the mountain, better call on the fire brigade
Bury all the pictures and tell the kids that I'm ok
Even if I'm forgotten you'll remember me for a day
I, I don't wanna be your cornerstone, I
All the black inside me is slowly seeping from the bone
Everything I cherished is slowly dying or is gone
Little shaking babies and drunkards seem to all agree
Once the show gets started its bound to be a sight to see
I, I won't ever be your cornerstone
I, I don't wanna be holding on
I, I won't ever be your cornerstone, I
Want your love, can you feel it? (4x)
I, I won't ever be your cornerstone
I, I don't wanna be holding on
I, I won't ever be your cornerstone
I, I don't wanna be holding on, I
"What a thrice-double ass was I, to take this drunkard for a god, and worship this dull fool!" Caliban in Shakespeare's The Tempest. Fuji X-Pro1 plus Mitakon Speedmaster 35/0.95 wide-open.
A day with the Ragged Victorians re-enactment group at Blists Hill Victorian town. A Timeline Events photo shoot.
Terrace seats? It's not that stylish. It's just a man drinking alone at the storefront. This is also a preventive measure.
A border on top and bottom and it will be done. Well, I think so... I have a lot of Drunkard's Path blocks already cut from these fabrics, so maybe I will add something here and there;) Will see...
horse riding-bbq-drunkards-karaoke till 10h30 :***
love uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu (s)
p/s: kg fải ny nhé ==" nó bị ái =))
The neo-classic Palace in Jassy (then turned into neo-gothic) located in north Romania, was designed by the Austrian architect Johan Freywald during the reign of the Prince Alexandros Mourouzis (Greek Αλέξανδρος Μουρούζης 1750/1760 -1816) imposed by the Ottoman Empire (under Sultan Selim III, "the drunkard") as Prince of Moldavia and Prince of Valahia.
For four centuries, the Romanian Principalities of Moldova - Valahia - Transilvania were vassals of the Ottoman Empire from the XIV-th century, with little interruptions, until the XIX-th century.
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'Shenley's Cage, which is thought to date from the early 1700s, was used mainly overnight for locking-up drunks until they had sobered up, or lawbreakers until they appeared at Barnet or St Albans magistrates courts...Bob Dearden, secretary of Shenley Village Society, said the Cage would have been cold and damp at times, adding: "It is next to water and has never been heated. '
Borehamwood & Elstree Times, 'A Night in the Cage Used to be a Fit Punishment for Drunkards'
It was an overcast morning. I got up at 5 in hopes of catching some pink clouds. Nope. Just haze. I jumped in the car, tired, dark, no caffeine. We camped about 20 minutes form the falls, no problem, still plenty of time to scramble down the cliff and set up for sunrise. Drove to the camp exit. There was a gate. A damn gate. They locked the place up form 9pm to 6 am. It was 5 am. Hum. So I sat, staring at the gate. If my brother was with me he would get out and knock the gate down. Not me. Too much respect for constructs of our society? Dunno. I sat. And sat. 6am. Gal walks to the gate and just swings it open. What? There was no lock. Sigh. I drove off. Sun was up now. No clouds means no hurry. I knew the drunkards that littered all over the falls were going to be asleep for hours. Hungover. Good for me. I get there. Alone for certain. I scramble down the hillside. I decide to try the new waders, that water was going to be cold and that might buy me some patience for shooting. Boy, I look silly. I repeat to myself, no more easy shots. These falls have a nice long ledge that sits about 12 inches underwater. Those of you who have been here know this. It is huge and lets you walk right up to about 20 feet from the falls before the ledge drops into about 20 feet water. The ledge is mossy. Quite...slippery. Yup. Splash. I am in the water, so is my bag. The camera was up on the tripod though, still in my hands, but safely out of the water. Not the bag. Its submersed. And those waders? No traction. None. Better yet, they are now filling with cold water as I scramble to get up. So much for staying dry. Gr. Why make waders with no traction? Why? Even fisherman need traction. Gr. I think my wrist is sprained. Now I am looking silly in waders, filled with water, my wrist is swollen, the equipment in the bag is soaked, and the bag is dripping water. Glad I am alone.
I did make my way over for this little cherry of an image though, so it was not a total loss. I should have gone back to the tent when the I saw the closed gate. It was an omen.
P.S. the bag was zipped and the lenses were all weather sealed. All the equipment was fine. The waders may not fare so well, I have yet to decide if they get burned. Gr.
Ô le Pauvre amoureux des pays chimériques !
Faut-il le mettre aux fers, le jeter à la mer,
Ce matelot ivrogne, inventeur d'Amériques
Dont le mirage rend le gouffre plus amer ?»
(Charles Baudelaire)
«O the poor lover of chimerical countries!
Should we put him in irons, throw him into the sea,
This drunkard sailor, inventor of the Americas
Whose mirage makes the abyss more bitter?»
(Charles Baudelaire)
Isaiah 24:20 “The earth reels to and fro like a drunkard and it totters like a shack, for its transgression is heavy upon it, and it will fall, never to rise again.”
The Rolling English Road (1913)
G.K. Chesterton
Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.
I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.
His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.
My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.
Regno Unito, Londra, Hammersmith, Autunno 2022
Una jack-o'-lantern è una lanterna intagliata nella zucca o nella rapa, associata alla festa di Halloween e intitolata al fenomeno di una strana luce che tremolano sulle torbiere (detto fuochi fatui), chiamata will-o'-the-wisp o jack-o'- lantern. Il suo nome è anche legato alla leggenda irlandese di Stingy Jack, un ubriacone che contratta con Satana ed è destinato a vagare per la Terra con solo una rapa scavata per illuminare la sua strada. Jack-o'-lantern è una tradizione annuale di Halloween che arrivò negli Stati Uniti dagli immigrati irlandesi.
A jack-o'-lantern is a carved pumpkin or turnip lantern, associated with the holiday of Halloween and named after the phenomenon of a strange light flickering over peat bogs, called will-o'-the-wisp or jack-o'-lantern. Its name is also tied to the Irish legend of Stingy Jack, a drunkard who bargains with Satan and is doomed to roam the Earth with only a hollowed turnip to light his way. Jack-o'-lantern's are a yearly Halloween tradition that came to the United States from Irish immigrants.
a composite
The rich may sparkle in their glamour, fashion, narcissism, indifference about the rest of the world
.
The rich may get richer and richer for the sake of getting richer.
Like the disenfranchised and worlds impoverished they, the rich certainly too can fall from grace,
they too can enter the harsh realities of monetary need, debauchery and hunger in the blink of an eye.
We all can face loss in our lives, whether it is monetary or emotional.
What hurts more is open for debate.
We are all neighbors in this world.
Glued together, more than you know.
All that separates us are illusory walls, those with money put up.
tall buildings, and artificial inanimate objects that many put too high a pricetag on.
MADISON AVE/ 35th street
MANHATTAN
NYC
USA
and a trip to
INDIA
Photography’s new conscience
EN: Across the pretty countryside of Stormarn 220 033 hauls its special drunkards excursion train 83635 (designed for drunken bowling groups and such...) from Neustadt (Holst) towards Ruhrgebiet, where the drunkards live ;-) We were happy to find three wagons in original DB livery at first in the train. Unfortulately the loco went broken in Hamburg-Harburg this day.
Slidescan.
DE: Durch die wunderschöne Ländlichkeit Stormarns zieht 220 033 ihren Säuferzug von Neustadt (Holst) in Richtung Ruhrpott - hier bei Bruhnkaten kurz vor Reinfeld. Wir waren sehr erfreut über die drei Wagen in DB Farbgebung an der Spitze des Zuges. Leider hat die Lok es an diesem Tag nur bis Hamburg-Harburg geschafft...
Diascan.
I wanted to use large pieces of this beautiful Alexander Henry floral. The "windflower" blocks were fussy to piece, but I'm happy with the effect.
“So one must be resigned to being a clock that measures the passage of time, now out of order, now repaired, and whose mechanism generates despair and love as soon as its maker sets it going? Are we to grow used to the idea that every man relives ancient torments, which are all the more profound because they grow comic with repetition? That human existence should repeat itself, well and good, but that it should repeat itself like a hackneyed tune, or a record a drunkard keeps playing as he feeds coins into the jukebox...”
- Stanisław Lem, Solaris
A slightly different image for me
But anyone who has been on my stream knows, I am anything but predictable ;)
A friend and her 88 year-old mom visited a few days ago
I asked if I could take a few pics and the sweet lady was so game :)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3VufmZXyTQ
Have a wonderful weekend, and I will see you in a few :)
Thank you for always taking the time xxx
David had arrived in Breshaun. The town where, supposedly, the girl of his dreams lives. "Is this the end of my journey?" David wondered out loud. "Orrr the beginning of *hic* an adventurrre?" a drunkard said. Allthough the guy was clearly the most drunk person David had ever seen, the man said something that sparked something in David. "Or the beginning of an adventure indeed, good sir."
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My first go at something other than sci-fi or Star Wars. :-)
The three photos in this series were taken on the way to the lighthouse in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Sheboygan is on the western shore of Lake Michigan,
I am not quite sure why these metal breakwater posts aren't aligned, but they do look as though they were done by someone who was staggering a bit.
[luhsh] Slang.
noun
drunkard; alcoholic; sot.
Flit licks her lips thankful that she's been built to run off alcohol in the case of humanity's downfall as booze is recession proof.
--
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