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I am not certain of the hereafter. Frankly, I'm not all that certain of the here.
-- Robert Brault
[Just about always better large...but you know that by now]
The Lek is a river in the western Netherlands of some 60 km (37 mi) in length. It is the continuation of the Nederrijn after the Kromme Rijn branches off at the town of Wijk bij Duurstede. The main westbound waterway is hereafter called the Lek River. The Nederrijn is, itself, a distributary branch of the river Rhine.
Portions of the river form the boundary between the provinces of Utrecht and Gelderland, and between Utrecht and South Holland.
In Roman times, the Nederrijn flowed into the Kromme Rijn and these streams were the main outflow of the river Rhine. When the Kromme Rijn began to silt up in the Middle Ages, the Lek became the primary branch. A short distance past Wijk bij Duurstede, the river intersects with the Amsterdam-Rhine Canal, which continues south towards the Waal. A branch of this canal, the Lek Canal is connected to the river at the city of Nieuwegein.
Other major towns on its banks are Culemborg, Vianen, Schoonhoven, Nieuw-Lekkerland, Lekkerkerk and Krimpen aan de Lek. The bed of the river lies slightly higher than the surrounding lands and dikes are therefore essential to contain the Lek. At the village of Kinderdijk the Lek meets the Noord River and the combined stream is thereafter known as the Nieuwe Maas as it flows down towards the North Sea.
Phengaris teleius (from the observation of the back of the wings (see comment hereafter) and location of the shot)
Azuré de la sanguisorbe ou Argus strié ou Télégone (d'après le verso des ailes (voir commentaire ci-dessous) et le lieu de la prise de vue)
Ce papillon a un développement larvaire étonnant: au quatrième stade, sa larve doit être adoptée par une espèce particulière de fourmi (myrmica laevinodis) qui l'emmène dans la fourmilière. Gare à elle: elle se fait dévorer par toute autre fourmi! Une fois parvenue dans la fourmilière, devenue elle-même carnivore (étonnant pour une chenille...), elle reste plusieurs mois et dévore les larves des fourmis hôtes sans que ces dernières réagissent!
Scarce Large Blue / Heller Wiesenknopf-Ameisenbläuling / Limbada / Голубянка точечная
This butterfly has an amazing larval development: in the fourth stage, its larvae must be adopted by a particular species of ant (myrmica laevinodis) which takes it into the anthill. Beware: it gets eaten by any other ant! Once arrived in the anthill, the larva, which has become itself carnivorous (surprising for a caterpillar...), remains several months and devours the larvae of the host ants without the latter reacting!
DSC_5091
♫ Wild Life ♫ - OneRepublic
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting—
Every wise man’s son doth know.
What is love? ’tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,—
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.
Twelfth Night, Act II, Scene III [O Mistress mine,
where are you roaming?] William Shakespeare
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**A digital watercolor composition using my new friend, Adobe Fresco and my tried and true, Photoshop.
“All you need to paint is a few tools, a little instruction, and a vision in your mind.” Bob Ross
“O sweet September, thy first breezes bring
The dry leaf’s rustle and the squirrel’s laughter,
The cool fresh air whence health and vigor spring
And promise of exceeding joy hereafter.”
— George Arnold
"The things that have been and shall be no more,
The things that are, and that hereafter shall be,
The things that might have been, and yet were not,
The fading twilight of joys departed."
- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Thanks to all for 10,000.000+ views and kind comments ... !
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved
Perhaps a new adventure but not sure yet.Really like the result and hope you do too ;)
Wish you all a happy weekend ahead my dear friends and followers 💕 ✌♫
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"Would?"
Know me broken by my master
Teach thee on child of love hereafter
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Drifting body it's sole desertion
Flying not yet quite the notion
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Am I wrong?
Have I run too far to get home?
Have I gone?
And left you here alone?
If I would, could you?
Song and lyrics by Alice in Chains
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Join DRD on October 22nd for a sim wide HUNT to collect a complete vampire slayer kit. Discover eleven items (wearable or rezzable on their own) and one final prize upon completion of your hunt. These 12 items are exclusive to The Bloodcroft Hunt and only available for the duration. Collect them all or join the immortal...either way, the Bloodcrofts look forward to seeing you.
Morbid D.
“Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.”
― Bram Stoker, Dracula
12 - DRD - TBH - Hunters Case - Open (rez)
8 - DRD - TBH - Hunters Scrolls (rez)
5 - DRD - TBH - Hunters Wolfsbane (rez)
4 - DRD - TBH - Hunters Holy Water (rez)
9 - DRD - TBH - Hunters Garlic (rez)
DRD- Spiritualists Shoppe @ Season of the Witch
DRD - Spiritualists Shoppe - Storefront
DRD - Spiritualists Shoppe - Alter
DRD - Spiritualists Shoppe - Spellbook Stand
DRD - Spiritualists Shoppe - Hanging Sigil - Hook Long
DRD - Spiritualists Shoppe - Hanging Cages - Long Chain
DRD - Spiritualists Shoppe - Caged Familiar - Bat
DRD - Spiritualists Shoppe - Square Carpet
Season of the Witch
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Helius/87/125/38
19 - DRD - Bloodcroft Castle - Coffin - One
21 - DRD - Bloodcroft Castle - Grande Chandalabra
40 - DRD - Bloodcroft Castle - Candelabra
Oh Tuhan kami, berilah kami kebaikan di dunia dan kebaikan di akhirat, dan peliharalah kami dari seksa neraka.
[Surah Al-Baqarah:201]
Our Lord! Give us in this world that which is good and in the Hereafter that which is good.
[Surah Al-Bagarah:201]
The Lek is a river in the western Netherlands of some 60 km in length. It is the continuation of the Nederrijn after the Kromme Rijn branches off at the town of Wijk bij Duurstede. The main westbound waterway is hereafter called the Lek River.
The picture was taken from the Lekbridge, left is Nieuwegein and right Vianen.
Here are cows and people with warm weather relax on the beach along the water.
☛ This is what we saw during our Bicycle tours in the Netherlands, where we have cycled through the beautiful landscape.
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Blueberries
by James Lasdun
I’m talking to you old man.
Listen to me as you step inside this garden
to fill a breakfast bowl with blueberries
ripened on the bushes I’m planting now,
twenty years back from where you’re standing.
It’s strictly a long-term project—first year
pull off the blossoms before they open,
second year let them flower, watch the bees
bobbing in every bonnet,
but don’t touch the fruit till year three,
and then only sample a handful or two . . .
Old man I’m doing this for you!
You know what they say about blueberries:
blood-cleansing, mood-lifting memory-boosters;
every bush a little fountain of youth
sparkling with flavonoids, anthocyanin . . .
I’ve spent all summer clearing brush
sawing locust poles for the frames,
digging in mounds of pine needles, bales of peat moss—
I thought I’d do it while I still could.
You can do something for me in turn:
think about the things an old man should;
things I’ve shied away from, last things.
Care about them only don’t care too
(you’ll know better than I do what I mean
or what I couldn’t say, but meant).
Reconcile, forgive, repent,
but don’t go soft on me; keep the faith,
our infidels’ implicit vow:
“not the hereafter but the here and now . . . ”
Weigh your heart against the feather of truth
as the Egyptians did, and purge its sin,
but for your own sake, not your soul’s.
And since the only certain
eternity’s the one that stretches backward,
look for it here inside this garden:
Blueray, Bluecrop, Bluetta, Hardy Blue;
little fat droplets of transubstantiate sky,
each in its yeast-misted wineskin, chilled in dew.
This was your labor, these are the fruits thereof.
Fill up your bowl old man and bring them in.
I searched a poem about blueberries and found this one. It touched me in a way and I wanna share it with you... a wonderful day to you all :-)
Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer--both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.
A few lines from Bram Stoker.
Who knows what the mare standing still on the hill is thinking?
“Well, its only lonely soul I’m after,
Lonely souls in the sweet hereafter
The heart is dark but the world s darker…
”
More on a little virtual keyhole ☂
EK4T3 COLLECTIVE X GLITCH ARTISTS COLLECTIVE
ek4t3.bandcamp.com/album/blessed-cursed-by-glitch-artists...
A COLLABORATION U.S.A. ▼ U.K. ▼ ITALY
TRACKLIST▼
01 Computer Basics - Crush It (feat. Aeonsone)
02 Pandela - I Tried To Be Your Friend
03 PLAY - Trapped at the Open Mic
04 M0T0RB1KE MIKE - G00DBYE REMIX 1.0 (prod. by Renderhead)
05 Chaos LoL - Nothing At All
06 belltonesuicide - Conundrum
07 NMTArts - Anti-Decay Dramas
08 Mz. Neon - Myra Breckinridge
09 Argiflex - Reset Thunder (Subtle Mix)
10 Jeff Morris - LaurelIsYannyIsFacebookIs
11 The Okina - Hxly Blxxd
12 hereafter.hereunto - self indulgent landscape
13 Yotzeret Sheydim - The Final Room Of The Temple
14 letsglitchit - Shallow Pools of Difference
15 Argiflex - Reset Thunder (Aggressive Mix)
16 M0T0RB1KE MIKE - V0Z REMIX 1.0 (prod. by Renderhead)
17 Joe Sinclair - Installation
18 Miusoph Jahan - Noisetape.wav
19 Chaos LoL - Clap Yo Hands (400bpm Remix of Spongbob Squarewave)
20 anonymous waves - You can do this
21 PLAY - fighting the ghosts of castle bainhart
22 NMTArts - atmosphère translucide
This canopic jar is the baboon (Hapy), Like the Dybbuk box, maybe should not have been opened. Or, maybe, he was a smoker....
From the ancient Egyptian funerary practice comes the canopic jars. Each organ was identified with one of four funerary deities collectively known as the Sons of Horus: the liver with Imsety (man's head), the lungs with Hapy (baboon's head), the stomach with Duamutef (jackal's head), and the intestines with Qebehsenuef (falcon's head). It was their duty to protect the deceased and restore to him his body parts in the hereafter.
Know me broken by my master
Teach thee on child of love hereafter
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Drifting body it's sole desertion
Flying not yet quite the notion
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Am I wrong?
Have I run too far to get home?
Have I gone?
And left you here alone?
Am I wrong?
Have I run too far to get home?
Have I gone?
And left you here alone?
If I would, could you?
I'd like to introduce you all to Anna Skahill. She's probably the kindest and sweetest person I've ever met. I was so fortunate to meet her last November, when I travelled to London. She was honestly the best model I could have asked for. Despite it being SO cold, she put on this dress for me and allowed me to photograph her beautiful self. I can't tell you how beautiful a view it was, particularly when the golden light started peeping in from behind her. I am so, so happy with how the photographs came out and can't wait to share them with you all.
It was one of my favourite days from the trip. Sarah had organised a little get together with some fellow artists at what you can see to be an absolutely incredible location. Sarah met me at my hotel and we caught the tube together to meet the others. We went on a little adventure through beautiful grassy pathways until we finally met up with the rest of the group. I was so happy not only to be meeting other artists for the first time, but to also be meeting up with Flickr friends such as Joel & Anna, who I had not yet met in real life! I had been following both of their work for years and it was just wonderful to be meeting them in person.
The Lek is a river in the western Netherlands of some 60 km in length. It is the continuation of the Nederrijn after the Kromme Rijn branches off at the town of Wijk bij Duurstede. The main westbound waterway is hereafter called the Lek River.
Culemborg formerly also spelled Kuilenburg or Kuylenburgh is a municipality and a city in the centre of the Netherlands. The city is situated just south of the Lek River. It received city rights in 1318.
On the right you see mill De Hoop (English: The Hope) or 't Jach is a tower mill in Culemborg, Gelderland, Netherlands which was built in 1845 and has been restored to working order. The mill is listed as a National monument.
☛ This is what we saw during our Bicycle tours in the Netherlands, where we have cycled through the beautiful landscape.
.
“Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.” ― Bram Stoker
"As one of the continent's most familiar wetland birds, the plump, dark-gray, chicken-like American Coot (hereafter, coot), with its black head and neck and distinctive white bill and frontal shield, is easily the most aquatic, most abundant and widely distributed species of rail in North America." Birds of the World
I simple love this photo. I had to upload this version too...
“Well, its only lonely soul I’m after,
Lonely souls in the sweet hereafter
The heart is dark but the world s darker…
”
More on a little virtual keyhole ☂
The night, O My Lord, is a time of freedom. You have seen the morning and the night, and the night was better. In the night all things began, and in the night the end of all things has come before me. Baptized in the rivers of night, Gethsemani has recovered her innocence. Darkness brings a semblance of order before all things disappear. With the clock slung over my shoulder, in the silence of the Fourth of July, it is my time to be the night watchman, in the house that will one day perish.
-Thomas Merton, The Sign of Jonas (New York: Octagon, 1983), 349; hereafter SJ.
Tonight we'll have the longest night of the year. Hereafter the light is going to return - bit by bit, every day.
I'm looking forward to this!
Thought that a long exposure and mono would reflect the mood at Gore Bay today. No rain, so that was a bonus as shortly hereafter we set out for our Manuka Bay walk.
I got pretty close to the log to try and draw the eye in to that lovely detail and then on to the sky.
The spider captured a fly in the web and hereafter... the eating moment.
La araña capturó una mosca en la tela de araña y seguidamente... el momento de comer.
Terwijl we in Ripain stonden, kreeg Wouter telefoon. Finn van Treinfoto België meldde hem dat de 1312 onderweg was met een kort treintje richting Ottignies.
Op aanraden van Finn reden we dan ook naar Limal, waar we na niet al te lang wachten deze korte Lyon Xpress konden vereeuwigen.
We overlegden even wat we in de namiddag zouden doen, vooraleer we terug achter de ballasttrein aan zouden gaan.
Lijn 90 bleek een goede optie, vooral omdat ook de cementtrein naar Havinnes onderweg was. Voor deze zou een foto op lijn 94 net na het buitenrijden van Ath ook best mogelijk moeten zijn.
Zo gezegd, zo gedaan: vanuit Limal ging het naar Irchonwelz (met een korte stop in Lens voor de 49804 naar Neslé Somme), wat we iets na 14u bereikten.
Volgens dienstregeling zou de cargo net voor de IC naar Doornik uit Ath vertrekken. Hopelijk wel, want we stonden net in een brede opklaring. Wordt vervolgd...
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Whilst standing at Ripain, we received a tip that one of the Black Beauties of Lineas was en route to Ottignies.
So we decided to make the displacement to line 139, where my brother and I could take this picture of 1312 and its short freight train, together with our friend Finn from Treinfoto België.
Hereafter we said goodbye to Finn and went to the surroundings of Ath, next point on our schedule was the cement train to Havinnes for which we found a location at the west of Ath. There was plenty of sunshine, but the freight train still wasn't showing up....
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Limal, 30/09/2020
LINΞΛS 1312
RKO_7484. Don't worry more Kingfisher images coming hereafter.....
Copyright: Robert Kok. All rights reserved! Watermark protected.
More than 10 million visits on my stream! Wow, thanks you all!
More of my work and activities can be seen on:
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Please do not use my photos on websites, blogs or in any other media without my explicit permission.
Thanks a lot for your visit, fave and comments. Its truly appreciated!
The wishes of the dead
Follow the light of the living
The freedom to breathe
Fights with the need to forgive
The longings of the heart
Can deepen our prayers against anger
But words unsaid and hurts remembered
Battle with our need to let the past go
Forgiveness can be difficult to reach
But the sweet silence of peace
Brings a balm to the soul
And a healing to the hereafter
*****
This simple wooden cross that marks the grave of a vicar of Glynde in Sussex, UK, who passed away in 1965 aged 84, was once a serving officer who joined the 1st Gurkha Rifles seeing service in India and Palestine during the Great War. He was invalided out of the army in 1923 and was eventually ordained at York Minster in England in 1932.
Alexander returned to India as a clergyman, serving as an Army Chaplain in Delhi during the Second World War. On returning to England he became at one time the Vicar of Glynde 1951-55.
The Inscription on the cross reads:
“In memory of Rev Lt Col: A.F. INGLIS. Vicar of Glynde 1951-55 died September 9th 1965 Aged 84 years.
Also his wife Anne 1888-1983.
His ashes, along with those of his wife, are buried under this simple cross in the churchyard at Glynde. He lies here with other war dead of the First World War.
What is so incredibly poignant, is that this memorial cross is carefully looked after, varnished and maintained against the weather, and has been all these years. On the anniversary of his death, there is often a posy of flowers laid at the foot of the cross.
For me, Alexander must have found a way to reconcile what he witnessed while serving as an officer and the forgiveness required as a clergyman. His faith must have been of great solace to him and such understanding that we are all humbled in the face of death meant that all he required was a wooden cross, rather than any other more ornate memorial, at the time of his passing.
To forgive we have to be humble. To be humble is to walk away from war and your pride and begin to truly live.
Never Forget.
And if you would like to see more of my work, have a look at my website at:
Small Body
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letterboxd.com/film/small-body/
images.mubicdn.net/images/film/308031/cache-684234-174549...
bsf.si/media/publicity/image/7a/thumbnails/7a1b4385d34250...
www.semainedelacritique.com/uploads/filmdiaporama/image_b...
www.semainedelacritique.com/uploads/filmdiaporama/image_b...
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click to activate the icon of slideshow: the small triangle inscribed in the small rectangle, at the top right, in the photostream;
or…. Press the “L” button to zoom in the image;
clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;
oppure…. premi il tasto “L” per ingrandire l'immagine;
www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...
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This photographic series was born from research conducted in the cemeteries of Giarre, Catania, and Lipari (Sicily). It is the continuation of a personal story I narrated in a previous series published on Flickr under the title "Hereafter," to which I refer for a full understanding of what follows (here the link: flic.kr/p/2qBy35g ). I would like to clarify that the facts reported here are as I experienced them. I established a cordial and sincere WhatsApp correspondence relationship with the psychic lady, whom I will call "the Lady." Thanks to the kindness of colleagues in the department who treated her, I sent her some of my photographic prints as gifts. They were images of angels taken from my Hereafter series ("the Lady" reports being in contact with the Angels, the Beings of Light). After that little gift, “the Lady” told me that after looking at one of those photographs – the one with the angel holding a palm in his hands – she had a “vision – or contact”. It was of a little girl, buried in that cemetery, to the left of that angel, speaking to her father, asking him to grant her a little wish – to receive as a gift a daisy picked in a meadow, not purchased from a florist. Feeling involved, I promised to bring a daisy to that little soul; but I completely forgot about it, many days passed, I contacted “the Lady” on WhatsApp, I asked her about her health, it was then that “the Lady” asked me “how is the little girl?” … I didn’t understand, I asked her which little girl she was talking about, she replied “the little girl with the daisy”… How could I have forgotten! I told her I'd go to the cemetery as soon as possible. Two days later, when I was free from work, I went to a field near my house, picked a small bunch of daisies, and went to the cemetery. I recognized the angel with the palm tree. I looked to its sides but found only adult graves. Directly below the angel, to its right (but to my left as I looked at it), there was a buried grave, with a cement headstone worn away by time and illegible. Just in case it was the little girl's grave, I went to the cemetery caretaker, hoping he could identify the person buried there. The caretaker replied that it was possible, but it was necessary to know at least the date of death, which was therefore impossible; the headstone was unreadable. Disconsolate, I returned to the angel. I had looked to the sides, in front, but not behind. I had this last chance. It was right there, to my great surprise and amazement, to the left of the angel but behind, that I found the buried tomb with this inscription: "Here was placed the little body of the lovely little girl Maria di Francesco Cardile, taken from the kisses of her parents on December 28, 1921, at just eight months old. Hail, dear little angel from heaven, pray for yours." Reading the word "baby" on the epitaph was the revealing word for me that this was the tomb I was looking for (I don't think it's common to find this term on the tomb of a deceased child), so I placed the daisies on that tomb. I told the "Lady" that I had found the little girl and that I had brought her the gift she had requested; A few days later, "the Lady" told me she had "seen" the little girl, who had introduced herself to her. She was joyful, thanking her father. Her little hands were clean, free of thorns and grass. Perhaps—"the Lady" interpreted—that was her way of saying thank you. I asked her how she managed to understand those souls, and the answer was that "they don't speak, they don't use words, but she can understand them anyway."
P.S.: "the Lady" didn't know where I had photographed those angels, which are in a cemetery far from Taormina. She couldn't have found that angel and gone there after seeing my photos. Furthermore, "the Lady" had come to Taormina for major surgery, coming from far away, from the other side of Sicily. I took most of the photos in this story with "lensbaby" lenses of various sizes. In Catania's monumental cemetery, I photographed the grave of the writer and leading exponent of Verismo, Giovanni Verga (many years ago I purchased a book entitled "Giovanni Verga, Photographer") and the grave of Angelo Musco (an Italian stage and film actor, nicknamed "the king of laughter"); of all the "encounters" in this series, the one that saddened me the most, for reasons related to my profession, was reading the inscription—about the incompetent doctor—"the girl died at the young age of 13."
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Questa serie fotografica nasce da una ricerca condotta nei cimiteri di Giarre, Catania, Lipari (Sicilia), è il proseguimento di una vicenda personale che avevo narrato in una precedente serie pubblicata su Flickr col titolo “Hereafter”, alla quale rimando per una piena comprensione di quanto segue (qui il link: flic.kr/p/2qBy35g ). Tengo a precisare che i fatti qui riportati sono come li ho vissuti. Con la signora sensitiva, che chiamerò “la Signora”, ho instaurato un rapporto whatsApp-epistolare cordiale e sincero, grazie alla cortesia di colleghi del reparto che l’hanno avuta in cura, le feci recapitare in dono alcune mie stampe fotografiche, erano immagini di angeli tratte dalla mia serie Hereafter (“la Signora” riferisce di essere in contatto con gli Angeli, gli Esseri di Luce). Successivamente a quel piccolo dono, “la Signora” mi raccontò che dopo aver osservato una di quelle fotografie – quella con l’angelo recante una palma tra le mani – ebbe una “visione – o contatto”, si trattava di una bambina, sepolta in quel cimitero, alla sinistra di quell’angelo, parlava col suo papà, gli chiedeva che le venisse esaudito un suo piccolo desiderio – ricevere in dono una margherita colta in un prato, non acquistata da un fioraio - . Sentendomi coinvolto, mi impegnai a portare una margherita a quella piccola anima; però me ne dimenticai completamente, passarono molti giorni, contattai “la Signora” su WhatsApp, le chiesi del suo stato di salute, fu allora che “la Signora” mi domandò “come sta la bambina ?” … non capivo, le chiesi di quale bambina parlasse, lei mi rispose “la bambina della margherita”… Come avevo fatto a dimenticarmene ! Le dissi che mi sarei recato al cimitero al più presto, due giorni dopo, libero dal lavoro, mi recai in un prato vicino casa mia, raccolsi un piccolo mazzo di margherite, e mi recai al cimitero; riconobbi l’angelo con la palma, guardai ai suoi lati ma trovai solo tombe di persone adulte, proprio sotto l’angelo, alla sua destra (ma alla mia sinistra guardandolo) c’era una tomba interrata, con la lapide in cemento rovinata dal tempo, illeggibile, nel dubbio si trattasse la tomba della bambina, mi recai dal custode del cimitero sperando si potesse risalire alla identità di chi vi era sepolto, il custode mi rispose che si poteva, ma era necessario conoscere almeno la data di morte, quindi impossibile, sulla lapide non si leggeva nulla. Sconsolato ritornai dall’angelo, avevo guardato ai lati, davanti, ma non dietro, mi restava quest’ultima opportunità, fu proprio li, con mia grande sorpresa e stupore, alla sinistra dell’angelo ma dietro, che trovai la tomba interrata con questa iscrizione – Qui fu posto il corpicciuolo della graziosa bambina Maria di Francesco Cardile tolta ai baci dei genitori il 28 dicembre 1921 di appena otto mesi. Ave caro angioletto dal cielo prega pei tuoi. – Aver letto sull’epitaffio la parola “bambina” per me fu la parola rivelatrice che quella era la tomba che stavo cercando (non credo sia comune trovare questo termine sulla tomba di un piccolo defunto), così posai le margherite su quella tomba. Raccontai alla “Signora” che avevo trovato la bambina e di averle portato il dono richiesto; qualche giorno dopo “la Signora” mi riferì di aver “visto” la bambina, che si era presentata a lei, era gioiosa, ringraziava il suo papà, le sue manine erano pulite, senza spine ne erba, forse – interpretò “la Signora” – quello era il suo modo di dire grazie. Le chiesi come riuscisse a comprendere quelle anime, la risposta fu che – loro non parlano, non usano le parole, ma lei riesce a capirle ugualmente -.
P.S.: “la Signora” non sapeva dove avessi fotografato quegli angeli, i quali si trovano in un cimitero lontano da Taormina (lei si era recata a Taormina per curarsi nel nostro ospedale), non avrebbe potuto trovare quell’angelo e recarvisi dopo aver visto le mie foto, inoltre “la Signora” era venuta a Taormina per affrontare un importante intervento chirurgico, provenendo da molto lontano, dall’altro lato della Sicilia; le foto di questo racconto le ho realizzate in maggior parte con delle ottiche “lensbaby” di varie misure; nel cimitero monumentale di Catania ho fotografato la tomba dello scrittore, massimo esponente del Verismo, Giovanni Verga (tanti anni fa acquistai un libro dal titolo “Giovanni Verga fotografo) e la tomba di Angelo Musco (attore teatrale e cinematografico italiano, soprannominato "il re del riso"); tra tutti “gli incontri” di questa serie, quello che più mi ha rattristato, per motivi legati alla mia professione, è stato leggere l’epigrafe - a riguardo del medico incompetente – la ragazza morì alla giovane età di 13 anni.
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Small Body
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letterboxd.com/film/small-body/
images.mubicdn.net/images/film/308031/cache-684234-174549...
bsf.si/media/publicity/image/7a/thumbnails/7a1b4385d34250...
www.semainedelacritique.com/uploads/filmdiaporama/image_b...
www.semainedelacritique.com/uploads/filmdiaporama/image_b...
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www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
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This photographic series was born from research conducted in the cemeteries of Giarre, Catania, and Lipari (Sicily). It is the continuation of a personal story I narrated in a previous series published on Flickr under the title "Hereafter," to which I refer for a full understanding of what follows (here the link: flic.kr/p/2qBy35g ). I would like to clarify that the facts reported here are as I experienced them. I established a cordial and sincere WhatsApp correspondence relationship with the psychic lady, whom I will call "the Lady." Thanks to the kindness of colleagues in the department who treated her, I sent her some of my photographic prints as gifts. They were images of angels taken from my Hereafter series ("the Lady" reports being in contact with the Angels, the Beings of Light). After that little gift, “the Lady” told me that after looking at one of those photographs – the one with the angel holding a palm in his hands – she had a “vision – or contact”. It was of a little girl, buried in that cemetery, to the left of that angel, speaking to her father, asking him to grant her a little wish – to receive as a gift a daisy picked in a meadow, not purchased from a florist. Feeling involved, I promised to bring a daisy to that little soul; but I completely forgot about it, many days passed, I contacted “the Lady” on WhatsApp, I asked her about her health, it was then that “the Lady” asked me “how is the little girl?” … I didn’t understand, I asked her which little girl she was talking about, she replied “the little girl with the daisy”… How could I have forgotten! I told her I'd go to the cemetery as soon as possible. Two days later, when I was free from work, I went to a field near my house, picked a small bunch of daisies, and went to the cemetery. I recognized the angel with the palm tree. I looked to its sides but found only adult graves. Directly below the angel, to its right (but to my left as I looked at it), there was a buried grave, with a cement headstone worn away by time and illegible. Just in case it was the little girl's grave, I went to the cemetery caretaker, hoping he could identify the person buried there. The caretaker replied that it was possible, but it was necessary to know at least the date of death, which was therefore impossible; the headstone was unreadable. Disconsolate, I returned to the angel. I had looked to the sides, in front, but not behind. I had this last chance. It was right there, to my great surprise and amazement, to the left of the angel but behind, that I found the buried tomb with this inscription: "Here was placed the little body of the lovely little girl Maria di Francesco Cardile, taken from the kisses of her parents on December 28, 1921, at just eight months old. Hail, dear little angel from heaven, pray for yours." Reading the word "baby" on the epitaph was the revealing word for me that this was the tomb I was looking for (I don't think it's common to find this term on the tomb of a deceased child), so I placed the daisies on that tomb. I told the "Lady" that I had found the little girl and that I had brought her the gift she had requested; A few days later, "the Lady" told me she had "seen" the little girl, who had introduced herself to her. She was joyful, thanking her father. Her little hands were clean, free of thorns and grass. Perhaps—"the Lady" interpreted—that was her way of saying thank you. I asked her how she managed to understand those souls, and the answer was that "they don't speak, they don't use words, but she can understand them anyway."
P.S.: "the Lady" didn't know where I had photographed those angels, which are in a cemetery far from Taormina. She couldn't have found that angel and gone there after seeing my photos. Furthermore, "the Lady" had come to Taormina for major surgery, coming from far away, from the other side of Sicily. I took most of the photos in this story with "lensbaby" lenses of various sizes. In Catania's monumental cemetery, I photographed the grave of the writer and leading exponent of Verismo, Giovanni Verga (many years ago I purchased a book entitled "Giovanni Verga, Photographer") and the grave of Angelo Musco (an Italian stage and film actor, nicknamed "the king of laughter"); of all the "encounters" in this series, the one that saddened me the most, for reasons related to my profession, was reading the inscription—about the incompetent doctor—"the girl died at the young age of 13."
………………………………………………………….
Questa serie fotografica nasce da una ricerca condotta nei cimiteri di Giarre, Catania, Lipari (Sicilia), è il proseguimento di una vicenda personale che avevo narrato in una precedente serie pubblicata su Flickr col titolo “Hereafter”, alla quale rimando per una piena comprensione di quanto segue (qui il link: flic.kr/p/2qBy35g ). Tengo a precisare che i fatti qui riportati sono come li ho vissuti. Con la signora sensitiva, che chiamerò “la Signora”, ho instaurato un rapporto whatsApp-epistolare cordiale e sincero, grazie alla cortesia di colleghi del reparto che l’hanno avuta in cura, le feci recapitare in dono alcune mie stampe fotografiche, erano immagini di angeli tratte dalla mia serie Hereafter (“la Signora” riferisce di essere in contatto con gli Angeli, gli Esseri di Luce). Successivamente a quel piccolo dono, “la Signora” mi raccontò che dopo aver osservato una di quelle fotografie – quella con l’angelo recante una palma tra le mani – ebbe una “visione – o contatto”, si trattava di una bambina, sepolta in quel cimitero, alla sinistra di quell’angelo, parlava col suo papà, gli chiedeva che le venisse esaudito un suo piccolo desiderio – ricevere in dono una margherita colta in un prato, non acquistata da un fioraio - . Sentendomi coinvolto, mi impegnai a portare una margherita a quella piccola anima; però me ne dimenticai completamente, passarono molti giorni, contattai “la Signora” su WhatsApp, le chiesi del suo stato di salute, fu allora che “la Signora” mi domandò “come sta la bambina ?” … non capivo, le chiesi di quale bambina parlasse, lei mi rispose “la bambina della margherita”… Come avevo fatto a dimenticarmene ! Le dissi che mi sarei recato al cimitero al più presto, due giorni dopo, libero dal lavoro, mi recai in un prato vicino casa mia, raccolsi un piccolo mazzo di margherite, e mi recai al cimitero; riconobbi l’angelo con la palma, guardai ai suoi lati ma trovai solo tombe di persone adulte, proprio sotto l’angelo, alla sua destra (ma alla mia sinistra guardandolo) c’era una tomba interrata, con la lapide in cemento rovinata dal tempo, illeggibile, nel dubbio si trattasse la tomba della bambina, mi recai dal custode del cimitero sperando si potesse risalire alla identità di chi vi era sepolto, il custode mi rispose che si poteva, ma era necessario conoscere almeno la data di morte, quindi impossibile, sulla lapide non si leggeva nulla. Sconsolato ritornai dall’angelo, avevo guardato ai lati, davanti, ma non dietro, mi restava quest’ultima opportunità, fu proprio li, con mia grande sorpresa e stupore, alla sinistra dell’angelo ma dietro, che trovai la tomba interrata con questa iscrizione – Qui fu posto il corpicciuolo della graziosa bambina Maria di Francesco Cardile tolta ai baci dei genitori il 28 dicembre 1921 di appena otto mesi. Ave caro angioletto dal cielo prega pei tuoi. – Aver letto sull’epitaffio la parola “bambina” per me fu la parola rivelatrice che quella era la tomba che stavo cercando (non credo sia comune trovare questo termine sulla tomba di un piccolo defunto), così posai le margherite su quella tomba. Raccontai alla “Signora” che avevo trovato la bambina e di averle portato il dono richiesto; qualche giorno dopo “la Signora” mi riferì di aver “visto” la bambina, che si era presentata a lei, era gioiosa, ringraziava il suo papà, le sue manine erano pulite, senza spine ne erba, forse – interpretò “la Signora” – quello era il suo modo di dire grazie. Le chiesi come riuscisse a comprendere quelle anime, la risposta fu che – loro non parlano, non usano le parole, ma lei riesce a capirle ugualmente -.
P.S.: “la Signora” non sapeva dove avessi fotografato quegli angeli, i quali si trovano in un cimitero lontano da Taormina (lei si era recata a Taormina per curarsi nel nostro ospedale), non avrebbe potuto trovare quell’angelo e recarvisi dopo aver visto le mie foto, inoltre “la Signora” era venuta a Taormina per affrontare un importante intervento chirurgico, provenendo da molto lontano, dall’altro lato della Sicilia; le foto di questo racconto le ho realizzate in maggior parte con delle ottiche “lensbaby” di varie misure; nel cimitero monumentale di Catania ho fotografato la tomba dello scrittore, massimo esponente del Verismo, Giovanni Verga (tanti anni fa acquistai un libro dal titolo “Giovanni Verga fotografo) e la tomba di Angelo Musco (attore teatrale e cinematografico italiano, soprannominato "il re del riso"); tra tutti “gli incontri” di questa serie, quello che più mi ha rattristato, per motivi legati alla mia professione, è stato leggere l’epigrafe - a riguardo del medico incompetente – la ragazza morì alla giovane età di 13 anni.
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The pilgrimage every muslim must make - Hajj - is not only a physical journey, but also an exploration of a person's soul. This humbling experience is enough to affect any of us and change us into better individuals.
Once a year, we finally become one nation, united to thank Allah for everything he blessed us with, and ask for forgiveness and happiness both now and in the hereafter.
For those of you who have already been to Hajj, may Allah accept all your efforts and grant you the chance to go there again. For those of you who haven't, may you be blessed with the opportunity to go there very soon.
Wallah there's nothing like it...
ربنا آتنا في الدنيا حسنة وفي الآخرة حسنة وقنا عذاب النار
اللهم اغفر لنا وارحمنا وتقبل منا... اللهم اهدنا وحببنا في ما يرضيك وأبعدنا عما يسخطك
اللهم اغفر لنا ذنوبنا واجعل قبورنا من رياض الجنة... اللهم اعتق رقابنا من النار وأدخلنا جنة الفردوس الأعلى
اللهم آمين
(phone shot)
"Last night my cover was blown on the children’s news:
Close your eyes long enough not to fall" van Binsbergen will never be actualized.
She will fade until she is a ghost, the narrowest tyre in the world,
unfindable in the catalogue.
Close your eyes long enough not to fall
in the library
it is a forest of cacti, don’t go back there,
take your beloved’s hand elsewhere
the playground is no place for pleasure.
The desire to change into a book shocks the young viewers
their parents reassure them: don’t worry, it will never happen.
Let my vision be free!
My vision is innocent!
The library is too shallow a grave
you’d go crazy from all the voices you heard there
and the shadows behind the shelves
are the result of trying to live normally for 3,000 years
in the hereafter – don’t go back there.
For everyone the book they deserve:
my friends have become encyclopaedias
and the odd boiling manual
they are undead and hungry but ultimately
just something you can pick up
and put down next to your bed, turn off the light
for a night that serves the day
in which everyone lives and belongs to the world.
I will never become real."
© Hannah van Binsbergen
From: Kwaad gesternte
Publisher: Atlas Contact, Amsterdam, 2016, 978 90 2544 781 6
© Translation: Michele Hutchison
First published on Poetry International, 2017
Alice In Chains - "Would?"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nco_kh8xJDs
Know me broken by my master
Teach thee on child of love hereafter
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Drifting body, it′s sole desertion
Flying not yet, quite the notion
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Into the flood again
Same old trip it was back then
So I made a big mistake
Try to see it once my way
Am I wrong?
Have I run too far to get home?
Have I gone?
And left you here alone?
Am I wrong?
Have I run too far to get home? Yeah
Have I gone?
And left you here alone?
If I would, could you?
RKO_5277. Light conditions changed constantly when taking some shots off this cute young fox. Shortly hereafter she/he disappeared into the dunes and thorn-bushes.
Copyright: Robert Kok. All rights reserved! As many of my images have shown up on other sites, I was forced to add a watermark. Moreover I reduced the resolution!
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Mists of damp heat rise up out of the fields around the sleeping abbey. The whole valley is flooded with moonlight and I can count the southern hills beyond the watertank, and almost number the trees of the forest to the north. Now the huge chorus of living beings rises up out of the world beneath my feet: life singing in the watercourses, throbbing in the creeks and the fields and the trees, choirs of millions and millions of jumping and flying and creeping things. And far above me the cool sky opens upon the frozen distance of the stars.
-Thomas Merton, The Sign of Jonas (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1953; New York: Octagon, 1983), 360; hereafter SJ.