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Every morning on Ngapali Beach women cover the sand with blue nets and wait for men coming back with tons of little fish. Then the ballet begins. They start throwing the fishes on these blue nets so that they dry under the sun all day long.
More pictures from Ngapali Beach on Fotopedia the first collaborative photo encyclopedia.
and starting yesterday... you can see one of my photos every thursday on the Chicagoist.com website. check it out.
www.chicagoist.com/archives/2006/03/09/focus_on_sin_strip...
or
Leica M2
Leica Summilux 35mm f/1.4 II
Kodak Tri-X 400
Kodak HC-110 Dil B (1+31)
7 min 30 sec 20°C
Scan from negative film
Every other summer or so, I find myself blessed with a pair of amazing summer students I get the pleasure to work with and this year was no exception. They instantly became really good friends on the first day and remained so until their last day.
Definitely glad to have had this experience and wish them all the best with the coming school year. - First year University students, good luck!
first of all I am sorry for resolution problem as bcz when I saw the wall I had my compact with me !
but a question always arrives in my mind I wanted to ask it with a picture ... and I think it's d one !!
have we ever thought how important we are ... every individual is important na ? so why dere will be less importance for womens ? for special childs ? for poor ? somewhere for muslims ? for private university's students ? everytime .. everywhere d thing we see the most is grouping ! even in my family momi gives priority to my younger brother and baba gives priority to meh !! but don't we know that to maintain a family every member is important ! to walk a counltry every person living in it .... every person is an individual and every individual is important to make d world colorful ..to give life a rhythm ..... na ?
Every Hawk I saw in Arizona was a Red-tailed Hawk. I checked all of them. Well how in the world did I not see this was no Red-tailed Hawk??? Got me; Now looking at it on the computer there is no mistaken that it is a Swainson's Hawk mature. I have only seen the youngons in Miami Fla. Wish It had of been closer, but I'll settle for an ID shot.....
Marguerite Duras was a great french writer very involved in the cinema - very loved by everybody - a little great lady.
Ah !!!! Bernard Pivot in Apostrophe - all these precious guests he used to receive !!!! writers, authors from all the world - every friday during years and years, we were listening to this wonderful TV Show. Here is Marguerite Duras with spanish subtitles but I'm sure you'll find english informations about her. She was the author of many wonderful books and the inspirator and "muse" of many great films as Hiroshima, mon amour, India Song, L'Amant................
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Every year, right before Christmas, most of European towns organize traditional markets.You can buy there gifts, hand craft and traditional food.
Karen had been feeling more unsure of herself ever since the prophesied day of reckoning, as predicted by QAnon, had failed to materialise. She fervently believed in the power of deposed president Donald J Trump to battle against the ‘elite satanic paedophile rings’ that she just knew must be operating covertly somewhere out there. The internet had told her so.
The funny thing was Karen was English, lived in Kent and had no bonds to America whatsoever. She did live alone with an indeterminate number of cats however. None of this was clearly any barrier to her becoming a believer though. Now, when she thinks about just about anything her thought process becomes hazy and she quickly becomes angry. Pretty much like her picture really.
Every day’s a learning day. Or so they say. I can definitely confirm this for the days I was using a palette knife to create this image. It started out as something else but ended up as Karen here. As is life.
Cheers
id-iom
"I TURN THE MUSIC UP, I GOT MY RECORDS ON
I SHUT THE WORLD OUTSIDE UNTIL THE LIGHTS COME ON
MAYBE THE STREETS ALIGHT, MAYBE THE TREES ARE GONE
I FEEL MY HEART START BEATING TO MY FAVOURITE SONG"
-------------------------------------
This was a hard year... but i am lucky because it was VERY good too...
I started taking pics and then i met AMAZING PEOPLE!!!!
Thank you for your comments and your time... i appreciate all of you!
=) The last pictures of the year!! =)
Every Labour Day Long Weekend Victoria’s Inner Harbour is the place to be when classic sail and power boats from throughout the Pacific Coast and beyond arrive for the Classic Boat Festival.
This is the premier wooden boat show in the Pacific Northwest, drawing more than 200 vessels in a wide variety of categories from Steam Launches to gaff rigged Schooners.
... said Edmond Locard in the 1800s. He was the best known forensic scientist of his time. His statement "Every contact leaves a trace" has been the term used by forensic teams for many years
28:365
I was trying to capture the drawings she was making on the shower screen .. they didn't work but her contact left a definite trace (see image in comments)
It's true that every storm runs out of rain
Hope for the suffering, seemingly in endless pain.
Thunder claps and the clouds turn dark
But a shape looms on the horizon, and it isn't a shark.
A glowing ball of gas, more commonly known as the sun,
Rises up above the horizon and it's not just for fun.
It brings life, and warmth, chasing darkness bringing light
Putting an end to the storm and the dark of night.
Amazing redemption, saving grace, a fresh start
The best fact is these are only 24 hours apart.
Everyday beauty as good as you'll see,
To the creator, the one who pulls the sun up, be the glory.
ODC: THE EVERYDAY
Afternoon tea for Mr Potato Head.... he's not used to all that sugar!!!
7 Days Of Shooting
Theme: Still LIfe
Freestyle Friday
If you are going to sleep in a doorway, then a bakers is not the best choice. In order to be "baked fresh every day" bakers start work long before it gets light.
And for those not familiar with the "Pasty" here it is:
A pasty (/ˈpaesti/, Cornish: Hogen; Pasti), (sometimes known in the United States as a pastie or British pasty) is a baked pastry, a traditional variety of which is particularly associated with Cornwall, the westernmost county in England. It is made by placing uncooked filling typically of meat and vegetables, without meat in vegetarian versions, on a flat pastry circle and folding it to wrap the filling, crimping the edge to form a seal. After baking, the result is a raised semicircular comestible.
The traditional Cornish pasty, which has Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) status in Europe, is filled with beef, sliced or diced potato, swede (also known as a yellow turnip or rutabaga – referred to in Cornwall as turnip) and onion, seasoned with salt and pepper, and is baked. Today, the pasty is the food most associated with Cornwall, it is regarded as the national dish, and it accounts for 6% of the Cornish food economy. Pasties with many different fillings are made; some shops specialise in selling all sorts of pasties.
The origins of the pasty are unclear, though there are many references to them throughout historical documents and fiction. The pasty is now popular world-wide due to the spread of Cornish miners, and variations can be found in Australia, the United States, Mexico and elsewhere.
Despite the modern pasty's strong association with Cornwall, its exact origins are unclear. The term "pasty" is an English word borrowed from Medieval French (O.Fr. paste from V.Lat pasta) for a pie, filled with venison, salmon or other meat, vegetables or cheese, baked without a dish. Pasties have been mentioned in cookbooks throughout the ages; for example the earliest version of Le Viandier has been dated to around 1300 and contains several pasty recipes. In 1393, Le Menagier De Paris contains recipes for pasté with venison, veal, beef, or mutton.
Other early references to pasties include a 13th-century charter which was granted by Henry III (1207–1272) to the town of Great Yarmouth. The town is bound to send to the sheriffs of Norwich every year one hundred herrings, baked in twenty four pasties, which the sheriffs are to deliver to the lord of the manor of East Carlton who is then to convey them to the King. Around the same time, 13th century chronicler Matthew Paris wrote of the monks of St Albans Abbey "according to their custom, lived upon pasties of flesh-meat". A total of 5,500 venison pasties were served at the installation feast of George Neville, archbishop of York and chancellor of England in 1465.[9] They were even eaten by royalty, as a letter from a baker to Henry VIII's third wife, Jane Seymour (1508–1537) confirms: "...hope this pasty reaches you in better condition than the last one..." In his diaries written in the mid 17th century, Samuel Pepys makes several references to his consumption of pasties, for instance "dined at Sir W. Pen’s ... on a damned venison pasty, that stunk like a devil.", but after this period the use of the word outside Cornwall declined.
In contrast to its earlier place amongst the wealthy, during the 17th and 18th centuries the pasty became popular with working people in Cornwall, where tin miners and others adopted it due to its unique shape, forming a complete meal that could be carried easily and eaten without cutlery. In a mine the pasty's dense, folded pastry could stay warm for several hours, and if it did get cold it could easily be warmed on a shovel over a candle.
Side-crimped pasties gave rise to the suggestion that the miner might have eaten the pasty holding the thick edge of pastry, which was later discarded, thereby ensuring that his dirty fingers (possibly including traces of arsenic) did not touch food or his mouth. However many old photographs show that pasties were wrapped in bags made of paper or muslin and were eaten from end-to-end; according to the earliest Cornish recipe book, published in 1929, this is "the true Cornish way" to eat a pasty. Another theory suggests that pasties were marked at one end with an initial and then eaten from the other end so that if not finished in one go, they could easily be reclaimed by their owners.
In 2006, a researcher in Devon discovered a recipe for a pasty tucked inside an audit book and dated 1510, calculating the cost of the ingredients. This replaced the previous oldest recipe, dated 1746, held by the Cornwall Records Office in Truro, Cornwall. The dish at the time was cooked with venison, in this case from the Mount Edgcumbe estate, as the pasty was then considered a luxury meal. Alongside the ledger, which included the price of the pasty in Plymouth, Devon in 1509, the discovery sparked a controversy between the neighbouring counties of Devon and Cornwall as to the origin of the dish. However, the term pasty appears in much earlier written records from other parts of the country, as mentioned above.
ALLEN MITCHELL BURDETT, JR., was “to the Army” born on 25 August 1921, in Washington, DC. The military ran deep in the blood of his ancestors; they fought in every American conflict since the Revolutionary War. His father, a highly respected military judge, became the Army’s senior JAG colonel.
As a Boy Scout at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, Allen began his lifelong friendship with a future USMA classmate, Arch Hamblen. Upon graduation from Western High School in Washington, DC, in 1939, he was appointed to USMA by Senator Richard Russell of Georgia. West Point was a challenge, a joy, and the beginning of lifetime friendships. He was commissioned in the Infantry and he and Arch continued a close association throughout several assignments, both overseas and Stateside.
Following the Basic Infantry Course at Fort Benning, Georgia, he joined the newly activated 63rd “Blood and Fire” Infantry Division, Camp Van Dorn, Mississippi. During World War II, Allen commanded a rifle company in the European Theater. His chaplain at that time, Raphael Miller, described Allen’s openness and friendliness as evidence of genuine concern and affection for people. He had a deep personal faith and a great reliance on prayer. He stayed on in Germany after the war ended, serving in the operations section of Seventh and Third Armies and with the U.S. Constabulary before returning to the States in 1947.
On 19 April 1948, Allen and Antoinette Salley were married in Asheville, North Carolina. After three years as Assistant PMS&T at Georgia Tech, he attended Infantry School at Fort Benning in 1950 and stayed to serve with the 508th Airborne Regimental Combat Team. In 1953 he graduated from the Command and General Staff College.
Allen was next assigned to Korea, where he served as a battalion commander in the 31st Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division. Returning Stateside, he completed the Armed Forces Staff College before assuming duties as the first Army representative to the newly established Air Force Academy, then in Denver.
On graduation from the Army War College and the Army Aviation School, he was posted to the staff of the Aviation School at Fort Rucker, Alabama, from 1960-62. From 1962-65 he served as executive officer to the Assistant Secretary of the Army for Research and Development in Washington.
In 1965 he joined the 11th Air Assault Division at Fort Benning, which was reorganized into the 1st Cavalry Division (Airmobile) and deployed to Vietnam. He commanded the Division’s 11th Aviation Group for almost a year before returning to Washington in 1966 to become military assistant to the Deputy Director of Defense Research and Engineering (Tactical Warfare Programs). In 1966 he was promoted to brigadier general. During this period he received a master’s degree in International Affairs from George Washington University.
In 1968, Allen returned to Viemam as an assistant division commander of the 101st Airborne Division and in 1969 commanded the 1st Aviation Brigade there. General Mel Zais, Commander of the 101st Airborne Division, wrote, “I know I can rely on him to complete the toughest mission and achieve perfection.”
His next assignment took him back to Washington in 1970 as Director of Army Aviation, until later that year when he was selected to command the Army Aviation Center. Fort Rucker Chaplain Burton Hatch, in a prayer at Allen’s funeral, gave thanks for his faithfulness to his Lord, his family, and his country; for his gracious manner and his firm handshake that brought encouragement and inspiration to all who knew him. At his induction into the Army Aviation Hall of Fame in 1980, Allen was cited as having greatly enhanced the role of Army Aviation on the modern battlefield.
In 1973, Allen was promoted to lieutenant general and assumed command of III Corps and Fort Hood, Texas. In 1975 he took command of the Fifth U.S. Army, Fort Sam Houston, Texas, and commanded until his retirement in June 1978, after 35 years of active military service. Dr. Duncan Stewart, Fifth Army Chaplain and pastor of Covenant Presbyterian Church, spoke of the sad impact of Allen’s death on the church and the city of which he was a part.
“Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.” ―Ernest Hemingway
St Vedast alias Foster, Foster Lane, London
Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death. - Arthur Schopenhauer
Huddled at the east end of St Paul's cathedral, across the road to St Augustine Watling Street, St Vedast is one of my favourites of all the City of London churches, especially of the smaller ones. It is one of those City churches which has no real reason for existing - indeed, it nearly didn't. There are no resident parishioners, it has no particular splendour or historical significance. It is small enough to almost disappear behind the shopping temples of modern Cheapside. Perhaps that is why I love it so much.
St Vedast was a Bishop of Arras in Picardy whose cult was popular in the 13th Century. Probably, there were merchants from Flanders in this part of Cheapside who dedicated the church to him. His name was corrupted into English as St Forster or St Foster, and although the church is ordinarily dedicated to St Vedast these days thanks to the medieval enthusiasms of the Victorians, it still sits on Foster Lane.
The church is one of a jigsaw of little churches around St Paul's, their ingenious spires intended by Wren and Hawksmoor to emphasise the sheer bulk of the cathedral dome. In fact, St Vedast was almost not part of this puzzle. After the Great Fire, the energetic parish got to rebuilding its church against its old tower independently on the lines of the old one, and it wasn't until as late as 1695 that the Wren workshop came along, pulled it down and put up a new church, drawing the north aisle into a widened nave and leaving the south aisle towards Cheapside. The tower and steeple at the west end of the aisle was the final touch, erected about 1710 to Hawksmoor's design. As Pevsner says, it is the most baroque of all the City steeples. It was, however, the Wren church that came in at the cheapest price, which may be explained when you know that restoration work in the 1990s revealed much of the outer walls to be medieval in construction. Wren had reused the shell of the old church.
In 1919, St Vedast was one of 19 City churches selected for demolition by the Diocese of London's City of London Churches Committee. The plan was to sell off the land and use the money to build churches in the north-western suburbs. The church, measuring only 23 yards by 17 yards, would perhaps not have provided a fortune, especially as it was hoped that the tower would be kept.
Ewan Christian had reordered the interior quietly in the 1880s, leaving alone the 17th Century reredos and communion table, which everyone seems to have admired: the table supported by caryatid saints, the reredos an ordered but complicated array of Corinthian pilasters, flowers, fruit, mitres, flaming torches, putti musicanti, and a pelican in her piety over and around the four tables of the Creed, the Commandments and the Paternoster, wrote Wayland Young. There was a west gallery - Christian moved the organ out of it into the south side of the chancel - and a royal arms on the north wall. Margaret Tabor, writing in 1917, was struck by the large number of old monuments, none of them of very great interest.
This, then, was the church which was destroyed by incendiaries and high explosives on the night of Sunday 29th December 1940. The London Blitz had the two-fold effect of ridding the Diocese of more churches than it had originally planned to demolish, and also completely reducing the value of City land for a generation to come. When the dust settled, it was decided that St Vedast would after all be one of the churches to be repaired and restored - St Augustine Watling Street across the road would only be kept as a tower, to be worked into the replacement choir school. St Vedast was never a major City church, and perhaps the architect chosen for the job was secretly glad that he could get on without too much interference or noise from those keeping a beady eye on the likes of St Bride and St Mary le Bow.
He was Stephen Dykes Bower, the last of the unrepentant Gothicists. In his 1994 obituary in the Times, Stephen James described Dykes Bower as a devoted and determined champion of the Gothic Revival style through its most unpopular years. He rejected modernism and continued traditions from the late Victorian period, emphasising fine detail, craftsmanship and bright colour. It is also worth recalling what Pevsner had written about Dykes Bower's restoration of the great church of St Nicholas at Great Yarmouth in Norfolk, similarly destroyed in the Blitz: What an opportunity was lost! What thrilling things might have been done inside! A modern interior, airy, noble, of fine materials could have arisen to affirm the vitality of C20 church architecture inside the C13 walls. How defeatist does the imitation-Gothic interior appear, once this has been realized!
In the early 1960s, Dykes Bower reimagined St Vedast as a college chapel. The seating, with rests, faces inwards across a mosaic-tiled floor. All memorials, some of which came from churches of parishes subsumed into that of St Vedast, were relegated to the south aisle, which is screened off from the nave, access only possible at the eastern end. The glass is by Brian Thomas, who had worked successfully with Dykes Bower at Great Yarmouth and other places. Everything is of the highest quality. Not all the furnishings are to Dykes Bower's design. The 17th Century reredos from St Christopher le Stocks, which had been taken by Ernest Geldart to Great Burstead in Essex, was brought back to London and installed here.
Despite Dykes Bower's reactionary enthusiasm for the past, there is a Festival of Britain jollity to the interior - prayerful, yes, but also with that confidence of the post-war years. It is a thrilling interior, perfect for music-led worship, especially candle-lit on a winter evening. And Dykes Bower has been proved right, of course. His reinvented interiors here, and at Great Yarmouth, and especially at St Edmundsbury Cathedral are perfectly suited to quiet 21st Century Anglican worship.
(c) Simon Knott, December 2015
Every time when I see this picture I just want to start sing a song.
If you want to choose a song which one will you choose?
...will means something to someone.
-The weight of the world. Editors
Keep a light on those you love
They will be there when you die
Baby, there's no need to fear
Baby, there's no need to cry
Every little piece in your life
Will add up to one
Every little piece in your life
Well, it means something to someone?
You've fused my broken bones
Back together and then
Lift the weight of the world
From my shoulders again
Every little piece in your life
Will add up to one
Every little piece in your life
It will means something to someone?
Every little piece in your life
Will add up to one
Every little piece of your life
Will mean something to someone
You touch my face
Scarred with spurs in my ear
There are tears in my eyes
Love replaces fear
Touch my face
Scarred with spurs in my ear
There are tears in my eyes
Love replaces fear, fear
Every little piece in your life
Will add up to one
Every little piece in your life
Will mean something to someone.
Every little piece in your life
Will add up to one
Every little piece of your life
Will mean something to someone.
I won't be able to listen to any Neil Young today. So to everyone who will not hear my cough today while watching a concert, “you are welcome.” Not that I have any strength to go to LI today.
I want to apologize to my couch for using a makeshift desk. I find it difficult to sit at the desk for long periods, especially when I have a fever. Since English is my second language, I often need additional tools like a pen, notebook, and highlighter while reading. Fortunately, there aren’t too many words I struggle with, but I dislike missing even a single word in a chapter. Or maybe write down a thing or two that I want to remember.
This is the first book of its kind that I'm reading—maybe the second—but let's be honest: Who doesn't feel stuck after the age of 40? I don't think admitting that makes us failures, nor do I believe that feeling this way means we are unaccomplished. After turning 40, we often undergo significant changes. We reevaluate our lives, career choices, and relationships. Where do we go from there? I spent 40 years with a certain mindset, but I am not that same person anymore. How do we adapt to change over time and embrace the new version of ourselves?
When I was in my twenties and felt lost, I felt lost. When I feel lost now, I go and learn something new.
P.S. I had a thought yesterday. For the past six days, I've been passing by the bus stop where I used to switch buses to go to high school. Each time I saw that bus making a turn, I was reminded of late August in 1997. At that time, I had no idea what the coming September would bring. One can never really know. However, starting that year and over the years, I fell in love with autumn, particularly from late October onward. I wasn't aware of that in late August 1997. I still believe that sometimes, you never know what, who, or where you might fall in love with, just a few weeks or months away.
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All my photography celebrates the physics of light! The McGucken Principle of the fourth expanding dimension: The fourth dimension is expanding at the rate of c relative to the three spatial dimensions: dx4/dt=ic .
Lao Tzu--The Tao: Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.
Light Time Dimension Theory: The Foundational Physics Unifying Einstein's Relativity and Quantum Mechanics: A Simple, Illustrated Introduction to the Unifying Physical Reality of the Fourth Expanding Dimensionsion dx4/dt=ic !: geni.us/Fa1Q
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“The mountains are calling and I must go.” --John Muir
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All art is but imitation of nature.-- Seneca (Letters from a Stoic - Letter LXV: On the First Cause)
The universe itself is God and the universal outpouring of its soul. --Chrysippus (Quoted by Cicero in De Natura Deorum)
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. --To Autumn. by John Keats
Photographs available as epic fine art luxury prints. For prints and licensing information, please send me a flickr mail or contact drelliot@gmail.com with your queries! All the best on your Epic Hero's Odyssey!