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After being closed since 2001, and many fires and poor behaviour taking place in here (theft, smashing things up etc) the Ritz is in a very sorry state. Third time lucky here, after several failed previous attempts we were in luck and took some snaps.
It appeared someone else was in the building - 3 torches were still on in the upper circle, and a screwdriver was next to one of them. We had seen the stalls and the foyer and the circle, but decided not to see the projector room on this visit as that is the only location the other person in the abandoned cinema was. It was considerably darker than there pictures show.
In 1961 the owners of Brunel House added a giant container diving pool to the side of the building. Just like the rest of the building it is now empty and abandoned.
Closing down sale as the lease ends, the supermarket and chemist and cafes underneath this one had already cleared out. To be replaced by a funny looking new university library called Avoin ("open").
jeesjees.wordpress.com/2009/11/11/kaisaniemi-flooded-with...
www.vartti.fi/artikkeli/09bb1048-ae66-41a5-81d7-563b3753be53
Well that's a good start to the year. My lunchtime Scotch Egg turned out empty. Really. I have questions...
Empty windows on a vacant building in the Ybor City area of Tampa, Florida.
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Tenuous Link: empty eyesockets → empty windows.
Empty wooden spoon isolated on white background
You can find and purchase/license this image and other my images at high resolution at microstosk agencies.
See links to my portfolios on my homepage: skobrik.com
ODC - Quoted
'An optimist sees a glass half full whilst a pessimist sees a glass half empty'
My family see me as a pessimist so they think I'm a glass half empty person but if you look at the photo behind the glass you can see why my glass is always half full!
Food distribution in several different slum areas in Tenali, India. This was funded by the Empty Bowls Project held in Abilene, TX, in 2009. This is the first of several food distributions made possible in Tenali. This work is being carried out by Isaac Palaparthi, the director of Sanctuary Home For Children. Notice some of the children who live at SH are there helping to distribute the food - they are giving something back in their own community.
Empty wooden spoon isolated on white background
You can find and purchase/license this image and other my images at high resolution at microstosk agencies.
See links to my portfolios on my homepage: skobrik.com
Empty Bench, Tiengemeten.
Tiengemeten is an island in the Dutch province of South Holland. It is a part of the municipality of Korendijk, and lies about 11 km south of Spijkenisse.
On 10 May 2007, the island was officially given back to nature; its farming inhabitants were relocated and nature has been allowed to work its way undisturbed. New nature reserves are rare in the Netherlands, and since its return to nature, Tiengemeten has become a real wilderness with trackless terrain, flowing creeks and gullies, meadows full of flowers and huge populations of migrating birds, including ospreys and egrets. Some of the marshy pastures are grazed by Highland cattle and other hardy animals. The island has cycle paths and tracks, and also a large earthwork which serves well as an elevated outlook post for birdspotters. Tiengemeten is free of cars and accessible only by water via a small pedestrian- and bike-friendly ferry which runs regularly on the ten-minute crossing between the small port at Nieuwendijk and the island. Alternatively, bikes can be hired on the island, particularly during the summer months. There is ample free car parking at the ferry terminal. Once on the island, Margerita Farm is a short walk from where passengers alight from the ferry, and holds an information centre, gallery space, café and toilets. Walking tours are available, and volunteers are on hand to answer questions. There are regular special nature-related events on the island; biodiversity surveys, open days and special tours. Notices are posted in local press and on websites.
What will be left once we pass? It happened to the dinosaurs with a meteorite, don't you think it will happen to us too? There are times I entertain myself with thoughts of our demise. What archaeologist will excavate our remains and classify homosapien as neanderthal and archaic? Aliens? Roaches?
I wonder.
It doesn't take long for Earth to reclaim what belongs to it. Leave a building unattended and vegetation will grow, cement will crack, wood will rot. We might look at a decaying house with a sense of foreboding and sadness. We might look at it with a sense of loss. However, from nature's perspective, that dilapidated house is simply returning to it's original state, a state before human intervention.
I love my life. I love our society. I love our world. (Understanding, of course, that it's not perfect and that many things need to change.) But, for example, how much different would the United States be if history had unfurled differently. What if the States had absorbed the Native American tribes instead of subjugating them? What if we had adopted their custom of living in harmony with nature instead of consuming it like a starving child hungry for his last meal.
Life is full of "what ifs." It's entertaining to imagine a world where a butterfly flapped it's wings and BAM, everythings different . But while it's all good and dandy to imagine, it's far more effective to ask: "What can I do to change tomorrow?"
And that is something I'm still asking myself.
Empty wooden spoon isolated on white background
You can find and purchase/license this image and other my images at high resolution at microstosk agencies.
See links to my portfolios on my homepage: skobrik.com
empty wine bottle - An empty wine bottle with a blank label. To Download this image without watermarks for Free, visit: www.sourcepics.com/free-stock-photography/24706662-empty-...
This is a picture of my recycle bin. Notice they’re all empty. That’s because if I bring one into the house, I drink it right away! Truly addicted.
115 Pictures in 2015 - Theme No. 83 - Addiction
Chapter 4
(We rejoin our Dharma Drunk heroes as they head uptown to the Bronx searching for Marylou’s dimly remembered bar.)
The subway nearly empties of passengers at the last stop in Manhattan.
The doors close and the train rolls on.
Marylou and I remain.
Along with one lone fellow across the car from us.
Only three of us in the train car now.
“Once more unto the Bronx, dear friends,” Marylou whispers to me playfully. “Once more.” She lifts her hand with a triumphant fist. “Or close the wall up with our Gotham dead.” She flares her fingers like snapping open a foldable fan and spreads them wide and straight, creating a perfectly formed Fosse jazz-hand. Gwen Verdon would have beamed with pride. Marylou shakes the hand vigorously like a chorus girl. “The game’s afoot.” And then she places the hand back in her lap.
We fall silent for a moment as I watch this other fellow on the train car with us.
I hear nothing for a few moments, save the rumble and rush and rumble and rush of the tracks beneath us. The subway moving through the tunnel into the next borough. I can almost hear that white-noise that underscores silence on long road-trips across middle of nowhere, America.
Just the driver, the passenger, and the road. No talking. No music. Just the sound of the car driving through time and space.
Marylou and I now on our own personal road-trip.
But without the car.
Racing through the ground on our way to track down one of Marylou’s distant memories. Looking for a place that might not be there anymore. Or the wrong place entirely.
Marylou’s private Shangri-La.
Exact location?
Unsure.
Now just the three of us on the train.
Rumble and rush. Rumble and rush.
Where is this lone fellow in his tiny story?
Rumble and rush. Only three of us on the train. That rare moment when the city has no clutter.
The tracks drone beneath us like a serene didgeridoo.
Is this lone fellow a Holden Caufield? A wandering misfit?
Rumble and rush. Only three of us on the train car. That rare moment when the city is clean lines and soft sounds.
Is he a Willy Loman? Is he the desperate salesman who keeps his family going as his own soul withers? Door after door after door. No end in sight down the endless row of houses and apartment buildings.
Rumble and rush.
Would they publish this lone fellow’s life story? Too small? Too modest?
The train keeps rolling.
Where is he going? To work? To sleep? To his mistress? To his second family, the one he has hidden up in the Bronx, far away from the family he has stashed on Staten Island? A modern-day bluebeard who keeps his domestic options wide-open?
Or just a man trying to avoid two misfits mis-quoting Shakespeare’s HENRY V on the train with him?
Once more unto the Bronx, dear friends. Once more. Or close the wall up with our Gotham dead.
The game’s afoot.