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This abstract turned into 6 little guys! Don't ask me what they are, but there are 6 of them, and they are little! Actually, I think the top three are girls, and the bottom three ((with mustaches!) are boys!
Definately turn off all light in the room to view these cute guys!
View a slideshow of my abstract art: www.youtube.com/watch?v=x__MoNulH9I
The latest paint job by Peter Mitchell of SVBM is out of this world ..previously Dodd's of Troon livery
This guy came up to the merch table at the Italian Edition show and bought a girls shirt and made us cut the sleeves off.
Originally taken on Saturday, June 19th, 2010 at Southern Maine Pride. Portland, Maine.
Used big labs free Hockneyizer filter to give it this cool effect. figured I would try it out. Not bad at all.
Kayak Guy in Dalkey, Co. Dublin.
Photographed with Nikon D7000 & Nikkor 70-200 f/2.8.
1/800th - f/4.0 - ISO 400
As with all my images you just gotta hit that 'L' key....
Guy's things.
It is thus raining on the city. It is not cold but drops wet. The street is a cemetery of flooded puddles … Flooded in the torments of an isolated country.
The common lot of Africa which it is always impossible to like.
I like. I love even sometime.
It is thus raining on the city and it is so much the better, that refreshes a little the asphalt full of heat … The clammy blood of the young guys shooted every day by anonymous (or famous on TV) bullets …
The blood of past and present which gives us a way to follow … We do not still know which, we follow, spectators, actors, clown, unconscious of the current drama … And then, we wipe the drops which fall us on the jacket.
We say ourselves, they are very harmless, drops, very clean in spite of the ambient pollution … Drops, rain, cold, all this I shall forget, I shall have there only a back taste …
But the young guy who is shooted on the TV by a despicable cop, I would not forget him … He is in my memory there and I shall have a bad taste there only …
He died. A pebble against a cop, a squall and then he goes away far from cameras the agony. Prevent that the squall is not visible in the screen. Just the sound of the machine gun. Just the chromium of the weapon, just the hatred dulled of the soldier.
Finger on the machine... Gun fire!
Kapov kapov kapov
We shall not remove me from the idea that it is at first, guy's things: guns I mean.
As for the women … They save me.
But they do not exist individually.
They are plural. I love them in the plural.
Without naming them, they would recognize theirself.
Forgiveness to those who are not in the list, they will console by dreaming that they had not enough chance. 4 on 500 or 600, that leaves 496 or 596 out of love. With an insane proportion (the traduction of insane is "Deman-tielle" in French) of Somali, one Russian, one Frenchwoman.
4 loved women, 4 lost women.
I love always badly.
I said the opposite one year ago, but in fact, I love too much to be able to love as well as possible.
I hurt, I damage without realizing it ... that's the worst. I am unconscious of the hurt i made.
I am a true idiot and I'll stay one.
I do not want to love any more from this evening... I cannot any more.
Not due to the lack of pretenders but by tiredness.
I would not change. I would have more or less well loved. But I would have loved and even two days or three nights it will have sometimes looked like a sharing.
Everything is vague as one of my failed reflections … A very rotten reflection, a consciousness in free-fall.
I could die in peace now … looking forward to the gust of submachine gun. Scarf romanticism, yours.
But I am well, that's the worst … I am well, because such a tomcat, I always fall again on my legs. I repeat, I am well, because such a tomcat, I always fall again on my legs. I’m well … Such a tomcat… I’m well.
Tomcat, poor guy, overcome ? No, don't believe that, I have terrible weapons in my brain, guys' weapons, things which hurt the one I’m in love ... without noticing it …
That's the worst!
Une trentaine de photographies a été chargée, ne vous limitez pas aux 5 premières !
Nous n'y croyons pas, après nous avoir donné quelque espoir voilà que la météo nous annonce une nouvelle crise d'incontinence des déesses .
Nous devons aller à Thuir pour une réunion de la fratrie Pilard . Il faudra s'abriter au restaurant …
La journée s'avance, le temps s'améliore, je demande à Myriam ( sœur de Domi(e) et Guy, son mari ) s'il peuvent nous emmener à Elne .
La cathédrale : fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cath%C3%A9drale_Sainte-Eulalie-et-S... ; Portail principal .
Elne, Pyrénées Orientales, Roussillon , France .
Photographie J-P Leroy, tous droits réservés .
In the bottom of his heart, everyone keeps a memory that does not want to die.
It's the sound of footsteps, the sound of a voice, a name or a smile.
Everyone keeps in the bottom of his heart a star of happiness.
This is Guy de Maupassant's grave, in the Cemetery of Montparnasse.
This picture is dedicated to my oldest and very faithful friend who has created of wonderful site for all the celebrities of the world in german language : Klaus Nerger.
UA 11 Audio Visual Collection
QRP 17.050
Town Life, 1955-1979
"March 1957"
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