ERA Grand Prix Cars
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sarà difficile rivederlo in questo modo, splendido ed affascinante.........è stato raso al suolo letteralmente, non c'è più nessuno, neanche mucche e cavalli che pascolavano liberi per i prati, tutti via, c'è solo qualcuno delle forze dell'ordine!!
per chi ha gentilmente chiesto mie notizie debbo dire che non ho avuto danni a cose e persone, in realtà a Macerata dove abito si è sentito molto forte ma danni a fabbricati quasi niente.
grazie a tutti i miei amici che si sono preoccupati per me, ve ne sono riconoscente, un abbraccio!!!
saluti affettuosi!!
Elio.
"Parece com momentos que tive contigo, quando te amava, além dos quais não pude ir pois fui ao fundo dos momentos."
Clarice Lispector
Cuando era joven –me contó la Tejedora–, creía que estaba a merced de la VIDA.
Que esta me daba una madeja de hilos enmarañados y yo, víctima de mi Destino, con ella tejía mis pasos.
Pasaron los años y aprendí que, en verdad, era libre de elegir los hilos de mi Telar, de escoger los colores que me hacían vibrar y tejer mi creación bajo el sol o la luna, en la intimidad del desierto o en la exuberancia de la selva, en la soledad elegida o en la bendición de tener buena compañía.
Pero ahora que mi pelo es completamente de plata, veo que no solo soy la que teje mi destino. Sé que formo parte del corazón de la Tierra, del caminar de las manadas, de la savia de los árboles. De las risas y los llantos de los niños.
Ahora sé que formo parte del TODO y el TODO es parte de mí. Que soy la Tejedora, el Telar y el Hilo.
.
Myriam Aram
2018 was a special time, it really did feel like a rebirth for the leasers and classic units, too bad by 2019 most of it all was gone again.
Il borgo di Castiglione era chiamato nell'alto medioevo dei Corbellari. Divenne del Terziere dal XIII secolo, in quanto terza
parte dei possedimenti feudali lasciati da Obizzino Malaspina ai suoi eredi. Castiglione del Terziere, dopo essere stato stato dei Malaspina, passò nel 1451 alla Repubblica di Firenze. Il borgo è dominato dal castello risalente al VI-VII secolo.
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The village of Castiglione was called in the High Middle Ages of the Corbellari. It became of the Terziere from the XIII century, as a third part of the feudal possessions left by Obizzino Malaspina to his heirs. Castiglione del Terziere, after having been a member of the Malaspina family, passed to the Republic of Florence in 1451. The village is dominated by the castle dating back to the 6th-7th century.
I'm using:
THIS IS WRONG Animatronix shine+tattoo 3D
at Cyber Fair
QUANTUM Poses - Sorcerer Bento Fatpack
at Mainstore
Check my credits to see Nagi's outfit.
La Azotea Grande era un importante edificio que se contruyo en la zona del hoy partido de Lezama, en la epoca de la campaña al desierto se lo denominaba partido de Viedma, fue alli donde se establecio el gobierno de dicho partido que existio entre 1864 y 1894. Ademas su fin era aprovicionar a todos los colonos españoles, escoceses e irlandeses que se afinanzaron en la zona, ya que funcionaba como un gran almacen. tambien era correo, municipio, escuela y entretenimientos locales que funcionó desde 1865 hasta 1940 aproximadamente. Este edificio esta ubicado en el antiguo camino de la zona que comunicaba Buenos Aires con Tandil, tambien llamado “Paso de la Postrera de las canoas”, porque esta muy cerca del Rio Salado, donde hoy hay un gran puente. Con el tiempo tambien fue una de las paradas obligatorias en el camino que va a Mar del Plata, al aparecer los primeros automoviles los cuales se aprovicionaban en el lugar, ademas existio alli una de las primeras sucursales del automovil club. Era un lugar predilecto para hacer una parada, ya que las personas encontraban un lugar para el sociego, bajo los arboles, consumiendo bebidas, galletas y embutidos para tomar fuerzas y seguir con el viaje. La majestuosa construcción aunque en estado de abandono permite observar su diseño en forma de fortaleza, con dos grandes portones apuntando al naciente, frente a un aljibe ubicado en un gran patio interior, alli convergen las puertas de numerosas habitaciones situadas al flanco que da al norte, donde tambien quedan los restos del almacen de bebidas. Al otro lado, la cancha de pelota vasca y 2 palmeras.
En el año 1981 fue nombrada monumento historico municipal mediante la ordenaza N* 1274 del honorable consejo deliberante de Chascomús, hoy en dia se encuentra en total estado de abandono...
PATRIMONIO HISTORICO PROVINCIAL, SALVEMOSLO...
www.infozona.com.ar/lezama-diputado-propone-que-se-restau...
www.elfuertediario.com.ar/elfuerte-id.php?id=9210
www.revistavivienda.com.ar/actualidad/gacetillas/proponen...
El Palacio de Catalina era la residencia de verano de los zares de Rusia, de estilo rococó y ubicada en la ciudad de Tsárskoye Seló (actualmente llamada Pushkin), a 25 km al sureste de San Petersburgo, antigua capital del Imperio ruso. El palacio está integrado, junto con el conjunto de palacios y parques de la ciudad de Pushkin, así como su centro histórico (código 540-006) en el lugar Patrimonio de la Humanidad llamado «Centro histórico de San Petersburgo y conjuntos monumentales anexos».
Like a scene out of a kids layout with a mix of eras. CN 7304 at the ripe age of 63 works the CN Metal Distribution in Hamilton as the pinnacle of pain in the modern era blocks the view.
© 2022 Garry Velletri. All rights reserved. This image may not be reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without my permission.
Era una mañana de enero, en la que se nos acercaron curiosas estas yeguas, cuando pasamos junto a la finca en la que estaban. Se dejaron acariciar, poniendo una nota de calor en un amanecer tan frío.
Muchas gracias por la visita.
The hoodoos are seen at the Dinosaur Provincial Park, Alberta, Canada. The park is a UNESCO World Heritage Site well known for being one of the richest dinosaur fossil locales in the world.
Tutti i diritti riservati © Utilizzare la foto senza autorizzazione del proprietario è illegale.
© Please do not use without my explicit permission. Ask me!
© All Rights Reserved
RIPRODUZIONE RISERVATA
Gianni Armano Photo
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Questa croce era all 'ingresso della cappella di una clinica di Rozzano, in provincia di Milano, dove ero stata operata nell' agosto del '17.
Una croce fiorita... In realtà di fiori bianchi e rosa, su uno sfondo verde chiaro. Non era Pasqua, ma era un símbolo di speranza in un luogo di dolore. E sollevava l' animo, dava consolazione. Nella cappella poi era sempre presente, esposto, il SS Sacramento.
Ho scelto il bianco, perché mi fa venire in mente il colore degli angeli. Se li penso, li immagino così, di un bianco luminoso.
Stasera la Via Crucis
Alcune frasi che mi sono rimaste :
la croce, albero di Vita....
Asciugare le lacrime degli altri è la miglior medicina per noi..
L'odio non è l'ultima parola, come la croce non è la fine di tutto....
Poi le ultime notizie, quando già stavo per addormentarmi : attentato a Tel Aviv , muore un giovane Italiano, Alessandro Parini, giovane avvocato di 30 anni, giunto lì in vacanza . Altri due Italiani feriti... Un'auto era stata lanciata sulla folla, sul lungomare
Scrivo stancamente , con la morte nel cuore.
Negli ultimi giorni forti proteste in Israele per la riforma della giustizia, una crescita di tensione tra Israeliani e Palestinesi, in una lotta senza fine.
Si parla di vile attentato... È vero, terribile, contro innocenti. Ma perché c'è stato?
Ci sarà nuovamente una risposta violenta.
Il mondo è in fiamme. Di odio, di guerra. Il mio cuore piange. Per quel ragazzo, che ha trovato la morte.
Per tutte le vittime della guerra. Per questo mondo, che potrebbe essere meraviglioso, ed è sfregiato col sangue.
Credo piangerà anche Dio. Che ancora una volta domanderà :
"Uomo, dove sei, dove sei finito ?"
Se non ci sarà perdono, pace, non ci sarà la Pasqua
... ma sopra di noi il cielo era blu.
Chi? Meg e io al porto di Savona.
Qui sotto Meg all'opera mentre:
a) aspettava il momento giusto
b) scattava la foto
c) controllava il risultato ...
che è questo bel colpo !
SERIE
Sorry, to me is very difficult to visit people that always only leave a fav without commenting...
Do not use any of my images on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission.
All rights reserved - Copyright © fotomie2009 - Nora Caracci
U735, with IC Heritage painted ET44AC #3008 on the point, blasts past a relic tied down in the siding at Ryley Alberta. The caboose was on the end of a welded rail train, and I was hoping to get a wider angle shot of the meet but the dreaded "Card full" alarm on the DSLE put a stop to that
During the early 90s at the Western Maryland Scenic Railroad, Alcos (and MLWs) reigned supreme. RS3 199 leads a pair of FPA4s around Helmstetters Curve on a late afternoon trip to Frostburg.
Ben Fidler’s 1936 ERA AJM 1 1483cc during the Vintage Sports Car Club event at Prescott speed hill climb on 7th August 2021.
The 1958 Scarab Mk II, one of 3 legendary vehicles built by Lance Reventlow, who at age 21, and also the heir to the Woolworth fortune, sought to challenge European dominance with American innovation and Chevrolet V8 power
This Mk II Scarab, is the second of 3 Chevy small block front engined racers, and the one that actually won the US Grand Prix in Riverside, California, against a gaggle of the biggest and best from Europe, including Phill Hill in his monster Ferrari 412S.
The Scarabs absolutely dominated American Racing through 1962, and continued to be successfully raced for several more years. But for the late 50s rule change in European Formula 1 racing limiting the engine size to 3 liters, Lance could never fulfill his dream (shared with Briggs Cunningham) of conquering European road racing with Yankee ingenuity.
For a vivid description of the great race win in 1958, read this.... www.classicandsportscar.com/features/all-american-hero-dr...
And still considered by many to be the most beautiful sports car racer of it's era. And I am with them.
Il giovedì che precedeva la Pasqua.
Il sole era caldo, l'aria tiepida , lassù.
Tutto sembrava così lontano e il mondo sembrava felice
Alpesisa, 989 m , nei dintorni di Genova
Maundy Thursday
It was sunny, and the world seemed so happy from up there...
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the info on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
The color version of the photo above is here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
So far there's only been one photo in my gallery that hasn't been taken in my garden ('The Flame Rider', captured in the Maggia Valley: www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/53563448847/in/datepo... ) - which makes the image above the second time I've "strayed from the path" (although not very far, since the photo was taken only approximately 500 meters from my house).
Overall, I'll stick to my "only-garden rule", but every once in a while I'll show you a little bit of the landscape around my village, because I think it will give you a better sense of just how fascinating this region is, and also of its history.
The title I chose for the photo may seem cheesy, and it's certainly not very original, but I couldn't think of another one, because it's an honest reflection of what I felt when I took it: a profound sense of peace - although if you make it to the end of this text you'll realize my relationship with that word is a bit more complicated.
I got up early that day; it was a beautiful spring morning, and there was still a bit of mist in the valley below my village which I hoped would make for a few nice mood shots, so I quickly grabbed my camera and went down there before the rising sun could dissolve the magical layer on the scenery.
Most human activity hadn't started yet, and I was engulfed in the sounds of the forest as I was walking the narrow trail along the horse pasture; it seemed every little creature around me wanted to make its presence known to potential mates (or rivals) in a myriad of sounds and voices and noises (in case you're interested, here's a taste of what I usually wake up to in spring, but you best use headphones: www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfoCTqdAVCE )
Strolling through such an idyllic landscape next to grazing horses and surrounded by birdsong and beautiful trees, I guess it's kind of obvious one would feel the way I described above and choose the title I did, but as I looked at the old stone buildings - the cattle shelter you can see in the foreground and the stable further up ahead on the right - I also realized how fortunate I was.
It's hard to imagine now, because Switzerland is one of the wealthiest countries in the world today, but the men and women who had carried these stones and constructed the walls of these buildings were among the poorest in Europe. The hardships the people in some of the remote and little developed valleys in Ticino endured only a few generations ago are unimaginable to most folks living in my country today.
It wasn't uncommon that people had to sell their own kids as child slaves - the girls had to work in factories or in rice fields, the boys as "living chimney brushes" in northern Italy - just because there wasn't enough food to support the whole family through the harsh Ticino winters.
If you wonder why contemporary Swiss historians speak of "slaves" as opposed to child laborers, it's because that's what many of them actually were: auctioned off for a negotiable prize at the local market, once sold, these kids were not payed and in many cases not even fed by their masters (they had to beg for food in the streets or steal it).
Translated from German Wikipedia: ...The Piazza grande in Locarno, where the Locarno Film Festival is held today, was one of the places where orphans, foundlings and children from poor families were auctioned off. The boys were sold as chimney sweeps, the girls ended up in the textile industry, in tobacco processing in Brissago or in the rice fields of Novara, which was also extremely hard work: the girls had to stand bent over in the water for twelve to fourteen hours in all weathers. The last verse of the Italian folk song 'Amore mio non piangere' reads: “Mamma, papà, non piangere, se sono consumata, è stata la risaia che mi ha rovinata” (Mom, dad, don't cry when I'm used up, it was the rice field that destroyed me.)... de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaminfegerkinder
The conditions for the chimney sweeps - usually boys between the age of 8 and 12 (or younger, because they had to be small enough to be able to crawl into the chimneys) - were so catastrophic that many of them didn't survive; they died of starvation, cold or soot in their lungs - as well as of work-related accidents like breaking their necks when they fell, or suffocatig if they got stuck in inside a chimney. This practice of "child slavery" went on as late as the 1950s (there's a very short article in English on the topic here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spazzacamini and a more in depth account for German speakers in this brief clip: www.youtube.com/watch?v=gda8vZp_zsc ).
Now I don't know if the people who built the old stone houses along my path had to sell any of their kids, but looking at the remnants of their (not so distant) era I felt an immense sense of gratitude that I was born at a time of prosperity - and peace - in my region, my country and my home. Because none of it was my doing: it was simple luck that decided when and where I came into this world.
It also made me think of my own family. Both of my grandparents on my father's side grew up in Ticino (they were both born in 1900), but while they eventually left Switzerland's poorest region to live in its richest, the Kanton of Zurich, my grandfather's parents relocated to northern Italy in the 1920s and unfortunately were still there when WWII broke out.
They lost everything during the war, and it was their youngest daughter - whom I only knew as "Zia" which means "aunt" in Italian - who earned a little money to support herself and my great-grandparents by giving piano lessons to high-ranking Nazi officers and their kids (this was towards the end of the war when German forces had occupied Italy).
I never knew that about her; Zia only very rarely spoke of the war, but one time when I visited her when she was already over a 100 years old (she died at close to 104), I asked her how they had managed to survive, and she told me that she went to the local prefecture nearly every day to teach piano. "And on the way there would be the dangling ones" she said, with a shudder.
I didn't get what she meant, so she explained. Visiting the city center where the high ranking military resided meant she had to walk underneath the executed men and women who were hanging from the lantern posts along the road (these executions - often of civilians - were the Germans' retaliations for attacks by the Italian partisans).
I never forgot her words - nor could I shake the look on her face as she re-lived this memory. And I still can't grasp it; my house in Ticino is only 60 meters from the Italian border, and the idea that there was a brutal war going on three houses down the road from where I live now in Zia's lifetime strikes me as completely surreal.
So, back to my title for the photo above. "Peace". It's such a simple, short word, isn't it? And we use it - or its cousin "peaceful" - quite often when we mean nice and quiet or stress-free. But if I'm honest I don't think I know what it means. My grandaunt Zia did, but I can't know. And I honestly hope I never will.
I'm sorry I led you down such a dark road; I usually intend to make people smile with the anecdotes that go with my photos, but this one demanded a different approach (I guess with this latest image I've strayed from the path in more than one sense, and I hope you'll forgive me).
Ticino today is the region with the second highest average life expectancy in Europe (85.2 years), and "The Human Development Index" of 0.961 in 2021 was one of the highest found anywhere in the world, and northern Italy isn't far behind. But my neighbors, many of whom are now in their 90s, remember well it wasn't always so.
That a region so poor it must have felt like purgatory to many of its inhabitants could turn into something as close to paradise on Earth as I can imagine in a person's lifetime should make us all very hopeful. But, and this is the sad part, it also works the other way 'round. And I believe we'd do well to remember that, too.
To all of you - with my usual tardiness but from the bottom of my heart - a happy, healthy, hopeful 2025 and beyond.
L'Italia Mondiale, quella di Zoffgentilecabrini, era passata per la Puerta del Sol. Che, nonostante il nome, non era un rifugio spagnolo nel quale si consumò il famoso ritiro in grado di trasformare i bolliti anti-Camerun nei mattatori che schiacciarono Argentina, Brasile e Germania. Era un albergo di Alassio, che ospitò la prima fase di preparazione degli azzurri, una struttura di primordine, con strutture sportive allora allavanguardia. Ora quella «Puerta» è chiusa e rischia di non riaprirsi più. Colpa del «mercato» e del progressivo disinteresse dei proprietari per una struttura che non tirava più come allora.
Nikon D5000
Nikkor 18 200
HDR 3 scatti
Dati Scatto
Aperture: f 11
Speed: 1/1500
ISO 200
Focal length: 18mm
☠ ℍⓐℂⓚ¥
Looking like we're still a primeval era at Lower Seletar Reservoir.
*Note: More pics of Sky and Scenery in my Sky and Scenery Album.