An Asian Openbill Stork seemed to be looking wearily on an Asian Water Monitor that was sunning itself by the water's edge. To be honest I wasn't aware of its presence when the photo was taken, it was too far away from where I was standing. When I went through the photos on a computer screen only then I noticed it. In terms of size the Asian Water Monitor is second only to Komodo Dragon. This one appears to be feasting well on migratory water birds (seen here are Lesser Whistling-ducks) that were present in the marsh area. Jan 30. Baruipur, West Bengal, India.

The early morning news brought in by the waking Sun

as if nothing ever changed

as if everything has now changed

for the better, one's hopes may yet rest upon

these very trying times

their ambivalence steers a rough course upon which to tread-on

as if giving it a go is worth it's weight in gold

turning a blind eye would be a fool's paradise

it's element of surprise still glistens;

a gift-wrapped morning

a gilt-edged opportunistic dream

it's legacy is reality's warning

stand to the attention of Nature's roll-call!

endemic in our genes is the fickle fashion of common sense

in need of topping-up, upgrading, purchasing beyond the means by fad of brand

is this what we've come to??

losing our responsibility under bane of freedom's lost

our fight is now one of existential renew

sometimes it seems that nobody even listens

because no-one ever speaks

and yet if you light a candle, we all seem to agree

under one notion of elemental being

our policy makers really are expendable,

but we are not...the only ones this flame is freeing

it's a tale of fortitude against the slavery of the Soul

corporate chaining offers us a defenceless all-consuming 'will'

written long before we begin to see out our days

but such overnight grabbing offers a gleaning of truth;

an insight into the overextended arm of greed

whilst we retain the Spring of Youth

it matters not the lay of your hinterland

whether nautical or conto(u)rtional

we all steer a natural course of human emotion

our dreams converse with our routines, and vice versa

only our understanding lags behind-

all of Nature's signs, the multifarious Universal precursor.

by anglia24

09h30: 14/04/2008

©2008anglia24

This expressionist photo depicts a distorted and fragmented figure, conveying a sense of isolation and anguish. The blurred and obscured features of the model's face, as well as the contorted positioning of their hands, evoke a sense of emotional turmoil and inner conflict. The obscured identity of the subject in the photo, coupled with their closed eyes and obscured face, adds to the enigmatic quality of the photo. The high contrast between light and shadow, as well as the soft focus and blurred edges, contribute to the overall mood of unease and intensity. The photo is intended to leave the viewer with a sense of ambiguity, uncertainty, and existential angst.

a fleeting silhouette climbs into the light, framed by brutalist curves and the hush of concrete. the world below watches in shadow, as if remembering a dream it never lived.

I met two aliens today. I was in the middle of nowhere when I spotted them approaching. "Hiya!" I said, "I didn't expect to see you here today!"

"Well..." started one of the aliens to the other, "We were just saying the same thing, when we saw you!"

"Aye, right, so what brings you here then?" I said.

"Och, we just took a ride oot, and decided to see where our space craft would take us. We're on a mission to find another habitable planet"

I must admit I was somewhat surprised by this, if not already slightly amazed by bumping into two travelling spacemen. "So, where are you from?" I queried, "and where did you get the fake Scots inflection?"

"Well, we come from far, far away. we've been picking up your weird messages and signs intended for extra terrestrials for some time, telling us where you are. And we listen to BBC Alba: very funny! Make us laugh like Cadbury's Smash" www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4MTgjNkfyI

"But you won't want our planet: we have so many problems! We have an existential threat from climate change! We will all die. We have protesters: Just Stop Oil, they say or we will die a horrible death".

The two aliens, suddenly changed, taken slightly aback. One of them said, the weirder looking one, "Oh, I'm sorry. They are not your people. They are our people, aliens like us. They were already causing problems for us and we put them on your earth just to cause problems. You see, we want your planet. We are too cold, we want a warmer planet, like your's. These people we sent to your planet who now protest, only a short time ago were protesting on our planet, shouting "I'm fffffing freezing. Trump more CO2". But no one wants to do it. Everyone is vegan, it's a disaster. We want your planet. Our leaders have plans to remove you from Earth and send you all to another place"

This was all a bit bizarre. "B-But" I blurted, "Everything is so shit here. No one has a clue how to fix our world, and our experts and leaders are useless. We are doomed!"

"Naw! said the slightly less ugly alien. "Don't believe a word the experts say! They are also aliens that we put amongst you, so that your will to live would diminish and you would happily allow yourselves to be transported elsewhere. Have no fear. Electric cars: rubbish. Net zero carbon: complete tosh. Covid: a bit of flu. All will work out ok. We already have all the solutions to your problems: we just can't fix our own! Fly all you like, eat what you want. Ignore the influencers, the vegans, woke teachers, the deviants.....all freaks and weirdos. You've already got the best planet. We wish ours could be like yours. In fact I think we will just make it our home, with you. We can help you save your planet without all that Just Stop Oil, Woke tosh. Please, can you take us to your leader?"

There’s a quiet ache that lives in all of us - a longing not just to be seen, but to be known. It’s the ache of walking through the world with stories tucked behind our ribs, hoping someone might ask the kind of question that unlocks them. It’s the ache of laughter that almost covers the loneliness, of strength that hides the softness we wish someone would touch gently.

And then there’s the awe.

The awe of connection. Of finding someone who doesn’t flinch at our truth. Who hears the tremble in our voice and leans in, not away. It’s the awe of shared silence, of glances that say more than words, of feeling like we belong - not because we’re perfect, but because we’re real.

To be alive is to carry both: the ache of isolation and the awe of intimacy. We crave closeness not just for comfort, but because it reminds us we’re not alone in our wondering. That someone else is out there, navigating the same questions, feeling the same pull toward meaning.

Intimate connection isn’t just romance or friendship - it’s the sacred exchange of presence. It’s saying, I see you, and hearing, I’m still here. It’s the moment when the ache softens and the awe expands, and we realize that maybe, just maybe, we’re building something beautiful together.

Happenstance

Fade into You ♪♪

—K.T. Jong

Back to the daily grind.

I have had a number of existential realizations on my break...or, really, re-realizations about what is important in life, and the things I must do to live a life I am proud of.

That said, I have a new portfolio website up!

large on black

Explore

#28

~ You're Probably Wondering Why I'm Here ~

I AM NOT I

I am not I.

I am this one

Walking beside me whom I do not see,

Whom at times I manage to visit,

And at other times I forget.

The one who remains silent when I talk,

The one who forgives, sweet, when I hate,

The one who takes a walk when I am indoors,

The one who will remain standing when I die.

Juan Ramon Jimenez

go darker here

To see is to explode because the instant a person confronts what is real, the entire architecture of their inner world ruptures. The comforting myths they’ve lived inside - identity, certainty, the soft blur of denial - detonate at once, leaving them stripped bare in a reality suddenly too sharp to escape.

Truth doesn’t slip in; it hits like a shockwave, tearing through ego and defense until there is nothing left but raw awareness. And in that wreckage, in the unbearable clarity of everything they can no longer unsee, a new self begins to form - one forged not from illusion, but from the fierce, unfiltered fact of existence itself.

What felt like an ending is truly a beginning, founded on truth, not illusion.

Official website

Say hello to me on facebook

I’d just nodded off when I heard the phone barking excitedly at me. And although it’s set to silent mode from 11pm each night, a few close family members such as my son are able to get hold of me in the small hours - just in case of emergencies. I’m not sure exactly where a sighting of the Northern Lights over his home in Wadebridge ranks on the grand scale of existential crises, but living this far south in the UK, it’s certainly a very rare event. I blinked at my phone, cursed quietly when I saw the hour, and peered through the bedroom window into the inky night. No Aurora here, at least not that I could see. Not even the merest shimmer of green.

For a while I lay awake, feeling the aching muscles that had carried me through five a side football just a few hours earlier. Quite what I think I’m achieving by continuing to play twice a week with less than two years to go until I reach sixty is anyone’s guess, but despite the tired limbs and the fact that several of the regulars are younger than my tracksuit bottoms and my white Paris St Germain top, I’m still loving it too much to give up just yet. When we returned from lockdown three years ago, almost all of the old gang retired within a few months, leaving just a very small rump of us fifty-somethings with the vacancies filled by a glut of youngsters. And now, into the first hours of Saturday, I lay in bed in the darkness feeling no urge whatsoever to go out and explore. Besides which I’d had a large whisky after dinner - so driving anywhere was out of the question.

The next morning I awoke to a steady stream of images on social media, showing me exactly what I’d missed. And I’m not just talking about your carefully composed works of art here, but phone snaps from friends, stumbling about in their gardens after midnight, trying not to fall into the goldfish pond as they stood in wonderment under a colourful night sky such as they’d never seen before. You’ve all seen those images - many of you have taken them too so I don’t need to go any further. I looked at the app to see a riot of red banners with ever increasing numbers next to them. Later, the weather forecaster said it was the biggest solar storm in twenty-one years, yet I’d missed it. I really should have paid more attention to the news bulletin earlier that night. With clear skies, something special had been on the cards and I’d ignored it in favour of a generous single malt to soften the after effects of chasing round a sports hall trying to keep up with the opposition, some of them young enough to be my grandsons.

Later on Saturday Ali and I headed down to Godrevy to meet one of you for the very first time. Christine was here with her husband Dave to shoot the sea thrift, although it seemed they were probably here a weekend too early. They too had witnessed the previous night’s spectacle, as I soon saw on the back of Christine’s camera. “Where had I been?” Suffering then - and suffering the ignominy of missing it ever since, came the answer. Seriously, it’s at moments like these when you question your commitment to this hobby. I’m sure I could have hobbled over to the woods across the road and found something to shoot my aurora with. There are plenty of old mining ruins around here for starters.

And so on Sunday morning, once again in the small hours, I looked at the app, which had by now been buffering since tea time. Yet although the red flags were no longer playing, I was still receiving red alerts on the hour. I looked out of the window at the sky and could see the stars. And as fortune only favours the ones who actually get out there, I set off for Wheal Coates to enjoy an hour of underachievement in the pitch black night. I couldn’t see a thing, and though my camera was picking up the purples in the sky, the episode was doomed. A little after 3am, I headed back to the car, telling myself there would be more opportunities, even if I am at a point in life that I’m no longer sure I can wait another twenty-one years.

So from me at least, nothing speaks more plainly of failure this week than my posting an image that isn’t of the Aurora. But I can at least congratulate those of you who did manage to capture the lights, and it does give me the most tenuous of excuses to share this one from last winter. More glorious light, albeit western light rather than the magic of the north. Next time, I’ll stay away from the Scotch and make sure I’m there alongside you to capture one of nature’s greatest shows.

Here's Christine's photo, taken about half a mile along the beach from here: www.flickr.com/photos/christine192/53715593422/in/datepos...

Of course, one of the main legitimate functions of thought has always been to help provide security, guaranteeing shelter and food for instance. However, this function went wrong when the principal source of insecurity came to be the operation of thought itself. (- David Bohm)

So here we all are, still in our matrix that we expereince as our "own" life, limited to 3 dimensions, lending parts of the same energy. Are we not the same?

The coracle fishermen lead a tenous existence of great hardship.

Fishing in their unwieldy round boats (coracles), they eke out a truly existential life for themselves.

This is right outside the house at about 9 AM today.

DSC_1177 nero exp copy

real life sunshine and roses mixed with second life wind light palettes.

Blue Orange

maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Empire%20State%20Island/22...

Ten years on Flickr

Mythical sequel

Existential character

Profound continuity

Oddyssey - 2005 is the title of the commissioned mural at the new University Hall, build to celebrate the Singapore’s National University Centennial. Measuring 110 sqm and realized in glazed stoneware, it is Delia’s largest ceramic mural, executed as a continuous composition, which was conceived as an integrated artwork for the new building’s architecture as a functional, "cascading wall". It is an interpretation of a timeless and universal theme- the perpetual journey followed by the eternal return to home, the process of maturation trough sacrifices, struggle and aspiration. The large scale of the mural allowed for the creation of an allegoric, symbolic space which is able to convey the message of conquering the unknown and the pleasure and satisfaction of adventure and discovery. The water, in its dramatic transformation, from quiet river or waterfall to open sea or turbulent ocean is used as a metaphor for the shaping, learning and development process students encounter since their early age to their adult life. The water, as a source of life, is the physical and existential medium for all natural growth as much as schools and university in all human societies are the source of knowledge and spiritual nurturing, inspiration and sublime intellectual achievements.

Before I even began contemplating being a vegetarian, I remember as a child looking at the struggling lobsters and other trapped fish in these holding cells at markets and restaurants and I remember feeling so sad and identifying with these writhing beings, struggling in anguish at this point of their futile existence. And I remember thinking….is this life? And we are just supposed to eat them? I found out much later when I was in my 20s that I was allergic to most seafood, not that it mattered. I think I might also be little allergic to suffering. It seems to impact me in a different way than other people. It’s hard for me to breathe just thinking about all of the pain world wide.

So, I see this little girl clutching her stuffed animal with this look of shock, revelation, and revulsion on her face and, though this is far from a perfect photograph in many ways, I can so relate to that look.

When I was seven or eight, I also visited Red Lobster for the first time in my life. My mom, a seafood fanatic at the time (she’s now a vegetarian), really felt like if I just tried it, I would like it. But, I saw that lobster and locked myself in the bathroom, having the first panic attack of my life. That existential dread was going nowhere and I refused to come out until she promised to take me home. I rarely ever “got my way” when I was a child but my mom figured out pretty quickly that she didn’t want to visit me several years later as a seriously malnourished 30 year old, eating only crumbs of biscuits other restroom goers were willing to feed me every now and then.

**All photos are copyrighted. You can have my panic attack, though**

{ Gratitude Day 24 : Air }

Well this one is self-explanatory. We need oxygen to survive!

When existential mist drapes the immediate world in a layer of mystery

The rising sun sheds it's morning light

Reveals what matters and begins to solve the mystery

Paddling my canoe often provides me with answers

Lyrics and music that answer the enigna can be heard in the link below

Melody Gardot & Philippe Powell - Plus Fort Que Nous

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECuKTK1Tnk8&list=RDpCX3JtxzxI...

Stay blessed

g

CARETAKING/INTERSPACES The Weird And The Eerie/fluctuating networks of existential events : Photographic pathologies of alterity

russellmoreton.blogspot.com/

The beech leaves are coming out. Tried to match with this photo my contemplative mood.

These are times where perseverance is more important than ever. This is easier with a purpose. It creates meaning, as reflecting on life creates meaning. Life is inherently meaningful, it does not matter which purpose one follow, as long as one follows it and this purpose is in accordance with a virtuous live.

Living a creative and compassionate life is meaningful. Enjoyment of beauty, art and nature is meaningful. Perseverance in the face of suffering is meaningful.

Living in awareness is meaningful. Going with the flow is meaningful.

The saying I have chosen belongs to the 6th-century Chinese sage Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching.

The philosopher Friedrich Nietzche spent seven wonderful summers on these trails, the most productive period of his life. I found his ideas a bit disturbing yet they keep on grasping at my consciousness. These huge mountains remind me of our insignificance. Yet, they also possess the explanations of our existential dilemma as Nietzche may have seen. At least, that's how I see it when I also put my feet on these trails.

I have been off flickr for a few years. I am trying to revive this account in order to better organize, archive my various photography/printing projects. So pardon the “work in progress” as I clean up and get things updated. I’m excited to see everyone’s work again :-D and I hope I will be motivated to keep this up! I’m still on insta, but it just doesn’t cut it when it comes to archives and organization.

This is an image from my project Aftermath.

Aftermath is a photography series I created during the pandemic, using a range of experimental techniques to explore the human condition in times of crisis. By employing methods such as film soup, developing color film with black-and-white chemistry, and innovative and alternative darkroom printing, I aimed to reflect the uncertainties and disruptions of the era. The work delves into themes of resilience, vulnerability, and the broader existential challenges posed by capitalism, offering a layered social commentary on our shared experiences during turbulent times.

Kent Monkman derived the title of his piece from the iconic portrait of the same name by Norwegian painter Edvard Munch (1863–1944). Like Munch, Monkman harnesses the universal language of anguish to create an image of terror that reverberates beyond the canvas. Monkman’s work also calls to mind Irish-British painter Francis Bacon (1909–1992), whose image of a distorted Pope Innocent X embodies the idea of power twisted into cruelty, a critique of institutions—the church and the state—that have so often perpetuated violence. But while Munch and Bacon express existential dread, Monkman grounds his scream in lived intergenerational trauma, transforming modernist symbols of despair into a searing indictment of colonial violence.

www.aci-iac.ca/art-books/kent-monkman/key-works/the-scream/

the most golden of all sunrises I've ever witnessed in my life, right over the Norwegian Sea. A moment to remember :)

National Geographic | BR-Creative | chbustos.com

Henri, le Chat Noir: The Existential Musings of an Angst-Filled Cat by William Braden

Gift Shop, West Building, National Gallery of Art

Washington DC

2 Jan 2026

robertmgoldstein.com/

I spent a morning in Roseville last week waiting for Marg to finish up with an outpatient foot surgery. Roseville is a large sprawling city with its roots as a bedroom community to nearby Sacramento. I drove around a bit and true to my nature was drawn to the less attractive side of town--the railroad yard. I'm sure there's an existential reason for this--kind of like thinking about thinking about how your thoughts tend to randomly intersect.

Roseville CA

where once fruitful soil

and profound sky and earth's thrum

now but futile shards

and frail grasp of meager cleft

through merciless time

Solastalgia: “ …a form of emotional or existential distress caused by environmental change.”

*in explore

If you visit Whitemill Bay, with the exception of North Ronaldsay, there is nothing but open sea until you arrive at Shetland. The Northerly wilderness and the deserted bay bring home the feral expanse of the Northern Isles and a trajectory towards the Faroe's, Iceland, Jan Mayen and the Arctic Circle.

Whitemill Bay is eerily beautiful, the patterns of the untouched slate that are prevalent across the bay, the white sands and the deep, variegated hues of the ocean inspire awe and evoke a feeling of alienation that is redolent of human disparity with nature. Paradoxically, the beauty of the bay evokes a profound calmness that, for me, is an expression of the existential link between human beings and nature. However. I acknowledge that the bifurcation between man and nature is arbitrary.

There was no human presence during my visit, the only other creatures I observed were a splattering of Sea Gulls in the near distance, baying and shrieking like some kind of Jurassic animal! The natural light appeared to be filtered through the dramatic cloud forms that threatened storms, despite the warm, sunny conditions. Rainbow-like colours hung in the air, giving a subtle colouration and the graphic hues of the rocks, sea and sand seemed to create a painting that was yet to be painted!

Simon

Orkney Isle's, Scotland.

My favourite city walk, the green tunnel that follows the chalk stream, which is a conduit for so much wildlife. Sometimes you won't see any animals, but other times you can see kingfishers, little egrets, water rails, grass snakes, water voles, muntjac deer, foxes and many other species. We are very lucky to have it, and take part in the regular clear-ups of the rubbish that either blows in or gets callously dumped there. This threat is dwarfed however by the existential one posed by over abstraction of water from the springs that supply it; our water supply must be managed for people and environment first, and private profit second.

robertmgoldstein.com/

It was full moon yesterday, and because it coincided with the moon at its closest position to earth, the full moon showed 7% larger than average.

Looking at the sky last night, my thoughts dreamt away. Existential questions. Why is the universe organized as it is? Planets, moons, stars, galaxies. Formed by the law of nature, but are other forms of organisation possible as well? And is our planet the only one with life? If so, why are the other celestial objects existing? If not, how will life on other planets look like? Similar as ours, or organized differently?

The universe seems to follow strict mechanical rules, while this still leads to diversity and chaos on every scale. What does that mean for our own free will? Is it really free, or is it only a product of this mechanical chaos as well, and ergo deterministic?

Questions to dream about, without finding definite answers. Perhaps that is what keeps us moving. If we would knew it all, what would be left to dream about?

HSS!

youtu.be/S6umxthz1Ys

ODC - Theme (20-06-2013): The big question

Silders Sunday (23-06-2013)

EXPLORE (23-06-2013)

When you feel a warm coffee breeze and hear laughter skidding across the table, that’s my kink. I’m dropping caffeinated garbage into my failing corpse to help nature with the deterioration. Excuse me if i’m antisocial. But still. Wanna come over and have an existential crisis together? Extinction protocol dream portal 1.

Invisible Reality - Parallel Fantasy

youtu.be/USsHKrP0P2M

8x10 darkroom print

This is an experimental darkroom print from my "Aftermath" series. I am really happy that this print was purchased to be used in an album cover by a Japanese band Calme Adiction. Here is a link to where it appears calmeadiction.bandcamp.com/track/land-of-ulcer-live-ver

Also I'm really happy how the solarization turned out, it's a pretty hard darkroom technique.

Aftermath is a photography series I created during the pandemic, using a range of experimental techniques to explore the human condition in times of crisis. By employing methods such as film soup, developing color film with black-and-white chemistry, and innovative and alternative darkroom printing, I aimed to reflect the uncertainties and disruptions of the era. The work delves into themes of resilience, vulnerability, and the broader existential challenges posed by capitalism, offering a layered social commentary on our shared experiences during turbulent times.

There are decisions we make in the dead of night that stop being choices and become fractures in the foundation of our lives. You sit in the suffocating silence, watching the smoke of a cigarette curl into the light, realizing that the reputation you’ve spent a lifetime curating is nothing more than a cage you’ve meticulously built for yourself. You see the systems you’ve served, the status you’ve chased, and the integrity you’ve worn like armor, and suddenly, they are all exposed as tools of your own confinement.

The epiphany is cold and absolute: to reclaim your own narrative, you must become the architect of its destruction. There is no middle ground left, no graceful exit from a life that no longer fits. You stop measuring the cost of failure because the alternative - remaining trapped in a definition provided by others - has become a slow death of the spirit.

You lean into the glare of the lamp, accepting that by dawn, the version of yourself the world recognizes will be a casualty of this moment. You don’t seek ruin, but you have reached the point where the existing order is simply no longer tenable. If the foundation must burn to clear the path, you let it burn. You have chosen the risk, and in that act of defiance, you are finally, terrifyingly free.

he moved slowly. his silhouette sharp against the concrete curves. the city’s embrace felt cold. quiet. only shadows watched him pass.

Existential Street.

Please visit my Kreative People group:Highlight Gallery

a fleeting presence etched in sunlight — the echo of someone just passing by. no face, no footsteps, only the soft weight of absence on a worn city wall.

A solitary figure stands where rock meets sea, confronting the vast horizon without promise of reply. Not serenity but the raw tension of existence—alienation sharpened into defiance, solitude carved into symbol. Here, the world is indifferent, the sea restless, the rocks unyielding. Yet in the act of standing, the figure affirms a fragile freedom: to face the void, to remain, to choose.