Evil Women are Bastards and Bitches!!!
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Amsterdam - Beethovenstraat
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All civilised people stand with Ukraine. 💙💛
“Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent.” (Isaac Asimov)
Well, it would be if I could see it 😆 The Northern end of the Black Cuillin evidently feeling a bit shy on this particular day!
I didn't make it much further than this well photographed viewpoint, seeing as some incompetent had left their waterproof hanging up to dry in the cupboard.
Resistiremos España!!!
A pesar de la inconsciencia, la incompetencia y la improvisación
Pero gracias a los que se dejan la vida para salvar otras
y gracias a los que se cuidan unos a otros
Quedateencasa
Staysafe
stayhome
Karlovy Vary is famous for its wonderful city architecture and great location. The Hotel Thermal may be fine example of Brutalist architecture, but to build it in the middle of Karlsbad was a crime. Several irreplaceable historic structures were destroyed and 10 years of construction must have been unbearable. In the 1970's the people who made decisions where largely incompetent. The Architects Věra Machoninová and Vladimír Machonin are not to blame, but it just feels inappropriate to be in the city center. Of course my opinion is bias, as I did never see any example of brutalism architecture I liked.
621. Karlsbad 2018- no.02. Nov. Taken Nov 09, 2018; P1070702; Uploaded 2021- March -09. Lmx -ZS100
I got skooled! One of those you come away thinking what should I have done differently. I wanted to focus stack as I was so close to the foreground, but then had a massive dynamic range shooting directly into the sun (which I then cropped out 😆). Anyway, I used my camera focus bracketing function, and manually took multiple shots exposing for the sky and foreground. I was planning on blending the focus stacks, and then merging the TIFs using the Lightroom HDR merge. Ermmm. Computer says NO 😂 Because the clouds were moving so fast, I got horrible artifacts in the sky when I tried the HDR merge. Should I have:
a) not bothered focus stacking and just exposure bracketed
b) used the camera exposure bracketing and manually changed the focus point
c) pointed the camera down even more so the sun was out of the frame (perspective looked weird)
d) gone for a lie-down and a pint of gin
e) not bothered because it's shit anyway 😂
God, I've even confused myself now! Anyway, this one was rescued by cropping out the burnt bit 😆
TLDR: technically challenged incompetent did it wrong.
P.s. It seems the foreground rock with those lovely stripes is dacitic lapilli-tuff! Happy to be corrected 😊
Estas fotografías son de Mayo del 2020 y corresponden a la serie denominada "Paseos Constitucionales". En realidad eran paseos en contra del decreto del gobierno para que no nos desplazáramos libremente fuera del domicilio. El decreto era anticonstitucional. Los golfos del Tribunal Constitucional tardaron dos años en "descubrirlo". Leyendo el decreto cuando se publico se sabia que aquello no se ajustaba a la Constitución vigente.
Y algún intercambio de opinión sobre el tema hubo con algún agente policial con exceso de celo.
Y, claramente, si el general Franco no me arresto nunca en el domicilio no se lo iba a permitir a esta panda de chapuceros incompetentes. Esta es la historia.
These photographs are from May 2020 and correspond to the series called "Constitutional Walks". In reality, they were walks against the government decree so that we would not move freely outside the home. The decree was unconstitutional. The gulfs of the Constitutional Court took two years to "discover it". Reading the decree when it was published, it was known that it did not conform to the current Constitution.
And there was some exchange of opinion on the subject with some overzealous police officer.
And, clearly, if General Franco never arrested me at home, he was not going to allow this bunch of incompetent bunglers. This is the story.
Kaiser keeping an eye on Ray who, in Kaiser's mind, might attack from half way down our very long garden. Can never be too careful, can you Kaiser *sigh*.
We have a hosepipe ban in our county (Hampshire) from 5.00pm this evening. We haven't had any rain for a few weeks now and on top of that we have an incompetent water company who have consistently failed to invest in new reservoirs, mending leaks and generally taking care of our precious water. They were fined 90 million pounds in 2020 for dumping untreated sewage into the sea. Southern Water - that is you I'm talking about!
Oh dear - I think I've just had a Furry Friday rant
Nuestra actitud ante el autoengaño en todas sus formas está marcada por una convicción racionalista muy arraigada: que la verdad acerca de nosotros mismos es saludable. Esta idea encuentra una expresión doctrinaria en la teoría psicoanalítica de la represión. (...) Según estas doctrinas, aquellos contenidos psíquicos que hemos elegido reprimir o ignorar “fermentan” en la oscuridad y acabarán causándonos síntomas y neurosis.
(...) ya ha sido refutado definitivamente por amplios trabajos de psicología social y clínica. “Es enorme el volumen de datos que demuestran que las ilusiones y percepción embellecida de uno mismo son indispensables para la salud psíquica. (...) Aunque parezca increíble, lo que muchas veces pasa con los enfermos psíquicos es que son demasiado sinceros consigo mismos, para su desgracia. (...) El que cultiva una imagen ventajosa de sí mismo y consigue persuadir a otros con ese show, a menudo lleva un largo de ventaja en la competencia por sobrevivir y reproducirse. Y la mejor manera de conseguir que otros traguen con una representación es creérsela uno mismo.
(...) Todo conocimiento genuino de uno mismo implica el reconocimiento de que tenemos cualidades agradables y otras menos agradables. No obstante, la realidad es que la mayoría preferimos fijarnos en nuestra cara más simpática.
(...) Finalmente, la mayoría de las personas psíquicamente normales viven convencidas de que son superiores al promedio en una serie de aspectos, con arreglo a lo que contestan en las encuestas.
(...) Muchos psicólogos aseguran que la necesidad de controlar las condiciones de la propia existencia está profundamente arraigada en el espíritu humano. Éste incluso es capaz de engañar a la razón y hacerle creer que controla los acontecimientos en situaciones presididas por el azar ciego o por fuerzas que ella no puede dominar.
Sujetos normales, psíquicamente sanos, se han comportado en distintos experimentos como si ellos tuvieran influencia sobre unos hechos que de ipso eran puramente aleatorios.
(...) A menudo los individuos incompetentes, además de no estar a la altura de lo que exige su profesión, ni siquiera saben lo incompetentes que son en realidad. (...) Al parecer, su incompetencia los privaba de la facultad de reconocer la (in)competencia en sí mismos y en los demás.
Destaca Brown que empleamos, para considerar nuestros encantos físicos, la misma lente deformante con que contemplamos nuestro talento intelectual, por lo visto.
(...) Podríamos prolongar hasta el infinito la lista de los estudios que ponen de manifiesto la diferencia entre el juicio subjetivo y el objetivo. (...) La táctica distorsionadora se observa sobre todo en el manejo de aquellas informaciones que rozan la auto estima, explica el psicólogo Dieter Frey de la universidad de Munich. A todas las informaciones que le afectan, el individuo les inflige un tratamiento “dirigista”, como un Estado totalitario: exageración artificial de lo que halaga el ego y ocultando, en la medida de lo posible, todo lo que sea desfavorable.
(...) Sin embargo, ante el peligro inminente de que tanto incienso lo conduzca a la catástrofe, el ego sabe dar sorprendentes muestras de realismo autocrítico. Las personas, cuando comprenden que van a ser examinadas en relación con una determinada cualidad, súbitamente manifiestan una insólita modestia y gran atención a las debilidades propias... aunque sólo sea en espera de que el largo plazo brinde una oportunidad de “planchar esas arrugas” del propio bagaje. También observamos que se desdeña el elogio procedente de una persona a quien no se considera competente para juzgar.
Aparte esa excepción, al amor propio todo vale para rendirse culto. Muchos estudios demuestran que apreciamos en los demás, preferentemente, las cualidades que también consideramos positivas en nosotros mismos. Por otra parte, los sujetos suelen juzgar más débil una realización y más grave un mismo defecto cuando aparecen en otros que vistos en uno mismo.
En cuanto a longevidad, la mayoría de los entrevistados la calculan para sí mismos unos diez años por encima de la esperanza de vida común. La mayoría de los ciudadanos juzgan que su estado de salud es mejor que el de sus vecinos, notoriamente enfermos, y se consideran inmunes a desgracias como los accidentes de coche, el divorcio o el alcoholismo. Por lo visto, son víctimas de la ilusión de control que describíamos, y se creen capaces de apartar de sí esas eventualidades indeseables.
Otra percepción ilusoria corriente es la que podríamos llamar “del mundo justo”. En lo más íntimo, el individuo no desea reconocer la existencia de injusticias o de tragedias, ya que de lo contrario la desgracia podría alcanzar incluso a las buenas personas (como lo somos nosotros). Esa dinámica origina una poderosa tendencia inconsciente a cargar sobre las víctimas la responsabilidad de los infortunios que ellas hayan sufrido. De esta manera, marcamos distancias y preservamos la creencia en la propia invulnerabilidad.
(...) Las personas que tienen ideas especialmente vivas y decididas acerca de las víctimas típicas de determinadas calamidades, se juzgan al mismo tiempo especialmente inmunes. Por lo general, el escudo protector abarca también a la familia y los amigos, como ha verificado Perloff en varios estudios, como si el halo psicológico que ilumina nuestra modesta persona irradiase en cierta medida sobre estos seres queridos; por otra parte, son individuos a quienes se conoce bien y que generalmente no se prestan a adjudicarles los rasgos de víctima típica.
(...) ...los datos científicos aseveran que las personas alegres son también más generosas y figuran entre las más dispuestas a acudir en ayuda del prójimo y cultivar contactos sociales satisfactorios para todas las partes interesadas.
(...) Se ha demostrado que los que se consideran predestinados al éxito suelen mostrarse más eficaces en su profesión y consiguen mayores ingresos.
(Falacias de la psicología) Rolf Degen
A Bar called 'This Month Only' makes perfect sense in our Pandemic age. The future is not predictable, as unprecedented powers were given to the incompetent city bureaucrats. With steady rising prices who can afford a drink in a licensed establishment anyway. Drink alone, for less, if you can spend money on anything other then the basics. Of course 'basic' is individually defined measurement. Dupont Street, named after George Dupont Wells, this used to be an industrial street. So far the street name is safe, until some 'researcher' discovers that George used foul language when he was a teenager or said something what may not sound quite kosher in 2022. (Toronto likes to reverse history, by just renaming streets)
028. Toronto Taken 2022- May 07, P1240826. Upload 2022-May 25. Lmx -ZS100.
at being incompetent ;-)
Laurence J. Peter
HGGT! Science Matters! Resist!!
prunus mume, pink japanese flowering apricot, 'Rose Bud', j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, raleigh, north carolina
This is the first bird I saw while in Singapore at the Botanic Gardens. We saw over 20 species of birds while there. As many were hidden in vegetation, the ISOs were often very high. No Sherpa to help carry my gear so I think I did pretty well carrying around two camera bodies and my big birding lens and monopod in the oppressive humidity. Birding was perfect though as we just took our time.
This beauty is so named because of its ‘rackets’, a pair of elongated tail feathers that have bare central shafts except at the ends, where the feather barbs form a twisted pendant that dangles down.
It also makes a loud racket and can mimic the call of other bird. The rackets often get damaged or can be lost during moulting, as I think may be the case here so I will post another one with the rackets in tact.
Definition of Drongo- A stupid or incompetent person. Not sure if this is an Australian slang or used elsewhere?
This is exactly what I am in my world. Every time I go out or on my way to work, I put on my headphones and the world that sounds in them always engulfs me so much that sometimes I forget about the world around me. Honestly, I don't care what happens around me. I am not at all interested in roaring children in a crowded tram, or when two women there talk about how incompetent their husband is at home, or when they go for a manicure. The world is different, people are different and I prefer to choose my own world, which is also different from it all.
"My world" is new post for "Be My Mannequin?" pose store, where I am showing pose "The Beat Goes On". This time I wrote more about informations (credits) of products, which I am wearing on the picture on my blog . So don't hesitate and check that. There are also a landmarks! Credits you can find down below!
Arr arr...ahem. Look, I've been tested and not been deemed mentally incompetent...but it was a close decision.
"Como decíamos ayer",
no hay cárcel mejor
que la honra y el saber.
Mas, qué pena que la ciencia
se esconda y se retire
y deje barra libre
a tanta incompetencia.
¿Acaso se ha perdido
con ella la conciencia?
Dónde hay que buscar
eso que algunos "saben"
para poderlo barrer,
pues hasta doctos se creen
y por eso palabrean.
Mas, la palabra no es ciencia
aunque de ella se sirva,
para poder instruir
a estudiantes y maestros
que buscando la verdad
la universidad les presta
ciencia y conocimiento.
¡No me acerques palabreadores
que lo tienen todo hueco!
* This is the first photograph that I have managed to take of a Reed Bunting it was sitting in the hedgerow as I was walking to the cliffs at the RSPB reserve at Bempton Cliffs in East Yorkshire .
Please don't go swallowing disinfectant today its not a good idea how do those doctors behind him keep a straight face . Our leaders are pretty incompetent but at least they do not try selling snake oil to the gullible
THANKS FOR YOUR VISITING BUT CAN I ASK YOU NOT TO FAVE AN IMAGE WITHOUT ALSO MAKING A COMMENT. MANY THANKS KEITH. ANYONE MAKING MULTIPLE FAVES WITHOUT COMMENTS WILL SIMPLY BE BLOCKED
"Gladly - for the first time today, I'll know what you have in your hand." :-)
(1889-1961)
HGGT! Character Matters! Vote!!
waterfall, Isafjordur, Iceland, Viking cruise excursion
Lose (one's) marbles: To be or become mentally deficient, incompetent, or deranged; to become of unsound mind.
I was just playing around with a glass, some marbles and a BB gun.
Thanks for all your faves and comments everyone!
I really appreciate them!
Check out my website www.wimvanbezouwphotography.nl or follow me on Facebook www.facebook.com/wimvanbezouwphotography/
Varieties of the color blue differ in hue / lightness. As if the painters did it for me to shoot.
By the way, the bridge is 530 m long.
Also,
Dear Canada.
Please don't hate all of us. We cannot understand either how our country came to be governed by a bunch of completely incompetent morons. Friends don't treat friends this way.
Sorry.
Portland, Oregon, August 24, 2026. iPhone16. On the morning dogwalk,.
Titre : Fin d'année 2016...
En cette fin d'année 2015, je tiens à présenter tous mes Vœux à tous ceux ou celles, qui m'ont suivi durant cette triste année...
Le bilan est lourd, attentats divers, morts, état d'urgence, guerres, gouvernement "incompétent", je passe sur le plan social et l'écologie avec la "COP21", qui n'est qu'une vaste fumisterie et de la poudre aux yeux.
Puissions nous voir une année 2016 plus "calme", plus sereine pour tous, moins de carnages, des engagements sur le plan planétaire pour essayer de sauver ce qui peut encore l'être.
Je suis désolé de ne pouvoir souhaiter individuellement une BONNE ET HEUREUSE ANNEE 2016 à chacun de mes contacts ou amis mais avec 4 212 "contacts"...
C'est impossible !!!
Je souhaite à chacun la santé, la prospérité, la paix et la sérénité où que vous soyez dans le monde.
Merci à ceux qui me mettrons un mot ici, j'essayerais de leur mettre aussi un mot.
Avec la courtoisie et mes remerciements à Isabelle Barralié et Génio.
Amitiés à tous.
Traitement Photoshop et Nik Software.
Merci de ne pas utiliser mes photos sans mon autorisation.
Thank you not use my photos without my permission.
Pour retrouver une sélection de mes photos :
To find a selection of my photos :
www.flickr.com/groups/1594868@N20/
Merci à tous les administrateurs de groupes pour leur multiples invitations.
Je suis désolé de ne pas avoir le temps de publier rapidement mais je respecte les règles de chaque groupe pour toute publication.
Thank hou to all administrators for their multiple group invitations.
I'm sorry I did not have time to publiciste quickly, but I respect the rules of each group for the entier publication.
rather cruel and incompetent comes naturally to me ;-)
John Cleese
HPPT! Science Matters! Resist!!
japanese camellia, sarah p duke gardens, duke university, durham, north carolina
We're Here! : And now... for something completely different…
Running out of ideas for your 365 project? Join We're Here!
HMAS SYDNEY was sunk with all hands (645) by a German Raider HSK Kormoran, on 19 November 1941. The remains of the ship remained a mystery for nearly 70 years being located only in 2008. The floor of the pool bears the latitude and longitude of its position.
______________________
The loss of HMAS Sydney (II) is Australia’s greatest naval tragedy. Its disappearance in 1941 without a trace left a legacy of uncertainty for decades. In March 2008, renewed efforts to find the Sydney came to fruition, confirming her fate and bringing closure to the mystery.
Celebrated for her successful battles in the Mediterranean, where she famously sank the Italian cruiser Bartolomeo Colleoni, HMAS Sydney (II) and her crew of predominantly young men received a hero’s welcome on her return to Australia in February 1941. She was then tasked with escorting troopships to South East Asia, following an Indian Ocean route along the west coast of Western Australia.
It was on the return of one of these voyages that she encountered the German Raider HSK Kormoran, on 19 November 1941. The Kormoran was disguised as a Dutch merchant vessel that was seemingly incompetent at returning the Sydney's signals, unaware, the Sydney approached the unknown vessel. Once within range where her superior armament could not advantageously defend her, the Komoran used the advantage of surprise and brought all its armament to bear on the Sydney.
Info from: museum.wa.gov.au/explore/sydney
See this link on the memorial for the symbolism behind the creation: www.hmassydneymemorialgeraldton.com.au
Seul les plus perspicaces y arriverons !
La photo n'est pas de moi mais d'Emilie .
Bonne année encore à tous mes amis de flickr . J'aurais aimé vous répondre individuellement , mais je n'y arrive pas...
Il y a Al'Taïr bien sûr , mais j'ai également commencé le bois et j'ai de nombreux arbres à couper , de plus des problèmes s'accumulent :
moteur de machine qui me lâche et surtout la petite Athena qui a des parasites et que j'ai dû tondre partiellement (dont toute la crinière...) pour pouvoir la traiter , après la visite du vétérinaire , et ça implique des précautions comme le curage de toute l'écurie pour protéger Al'Taïr... Je suis sur les rotules !
Toutefois , je ne le prend pas dramatiquement , ça fait partie des emmerdements de tous les jours ...avec maintenant ceux que notre indigne président à promis à une partie des français sur lesquels il font reposer leur propre incompétence !
Car c'est bien sûr la faute à 20 % de non vaccinés si ils n'arrivent pas a gérer cette maladie (la plupart du temps si grave qu'il faut se faire tester pour savoir si on l'a...) et non car ils ont réduit le nombre de lits d’hôpitaux et le personnel soignant ou le fait que ce "vaccin" est inefficace (sauf pour l'enrichissement de certains) ...
Nous vivons maintenant dans un pays ou partie des gens est traitée comme des pestiférés , même et surtout par les gens du gouvernement , alors qu'il n'ont strictement rien fait de répréhensible vis à vis de la loi... Attention , ça commence comme ça ! Il fut un temps pas si éloigné que ça ou on a vu comment ça a fini de s'en prendre à une minorité de gens , quand le gouvernement à incité à la haine de l'autre ...
(je suis sûr que ça vous à manqué ☺☺☺)
....il ponte, ....il cuore...
Una tragedia annunciata che si poteva evitare. Simbolo ,forse, di un'Italia fragile, ma anche forte che , sono sicura, si riprenderà. Foto presa da lontano. Mi trovavo a passare a Sampierdarena.Non mi sono avvicinata per rispetto alle vittime ( per ora 38 con decine di dispersi e feriti gravi ), che forse sono ancora là sotto le macerie.
Di fronte a questo spettacolo è meglio non mettere preferenze e stare solo in silenzio.
L'incompetenza, l'incuria, la superficialità, l'avidita' di profitti , possono diventare gravi colpe, causa di morte.
Ponte Morandi, Val Polcevera, Ge Sampierdarena
Split
A tragedy foretold , that we could avoid
Broken... The bridge, the heart....
Andrés CALAMARO.
DUELO EN LOS ALTOS CARGOS.
-Preséntese en mi despacho de inmediato, Márquez.
-Ya estoy ahí, jefe.
-Siéntese. Estoy hasta las narices de su incompetencia, recoja todo lo que tenga que recoger y a la puta calle, despedido fulminantemente.
-¡Maldita sea mi estampa! Treinta años trabajando como un perro por esta empresa las veinticuatro horas del día y ahora me quiere despedir. No tienen ni idea de cómo dirigir esta Constructora, si no fuera por mis
constantes desvelos, haría quince años que estarían en la más absoluta quiebra.
-Esta Constructora la fundó mi abuelo, la consolidó mi padre, y un servidor la ha elevado a su máxima potencia, no intente darme clases, Márquez.
Diez mil empleados es un número muy significativo del poderío y de la solvencia de esta multinacional que opera en los cinco continentes.
Hable con mis abogados, no dejaremos de ser generosos con usted.
-¿Y podría saber el motivo del despido?
-Ya se lo he dicho, su incompetencia manifiesta y, además, que es usted tonto del culo, ¡pero no ve, que su despacho está al mismo lado del mío y las paredes son de cristal!
Se pasa todo el santo día viendo películas porno en el ordenador.
-No voy a negar que después de estar todo el santo día trabajando como un esclavo, no quiera distraerme viendo chicas guapas y macizas.
Además, jefe, no me haga hablar, no me haga hablar, que me sé todos sus tejemanejes con las becarias, sus comidas, sus cenas y sus hotelitos con encanto.
Y le digo más, me gusta la fotografía, la fotografía nocturna y le tengo
un inmenso reportaje de sus fechorías que se salen de lo estrictamente profesional, vamos, tocamientos y escenas subiditas de tono y sus entradas y salidas de los hoteles.
-Márquez, sabe que eso es ilegal, punible y susceptible de ser castigado por la ley.
-En España, jefe, se garantiza el derecho a la libertad de expresión, sé pueden captar imágenes en espacios públicos, sin ningún problema.
Y si me apura un poco, igual le mando un buen reportaje a su mujer Esperanza, que tengo el gusto de conocer, seguro, que le retuerce el pescuezo como a un pollo.
Y ya que hablamos de abogados, pregunte, pregunte a sus abogados cuanto le podría costar un divorcio con su santa mujer.
Millones de euros, jefe, millones de euros.
-Voy a llamar inmediatamente a seguridad, esto es sencillamente un chantaje en toda regla, una auténtica extorsión, me está amenazando con revelar y difundir hechos de mi vida privada, se le va a caer el pelo,
Márquez.
-Mire jefe, esto son pequeñas rencillas que podemos tratar de manera civilizada y profesional. Yo me estoy calladito y formal y usted me da un puesto en esta empresa de cierto renombre, creo que me lo
merezco.
-Pero si tiene usted un puesto envidiable, nada menos que Director de Recursos Humanos.
-Pues ahora quiero ser Director Ejecutivo de Explotaciones, con unos quince mil euros al mes me conformaría y dietas, claro, ya ve
que no soy nada avaricioso.
-Muy bien, Márquez, me parece todo muy bien y ahora desaparezca de mi vista.
-Lo primero que voy hacer es llamar a la Imprenta para hacer unas nuevas tarjetas de presentación:
Antonio José Márquez – Director Ejecutivo de Explotaciones.
¿A que suena bien, jefe?
-Suena de puta madre, Márquez y ahora, esfúmese de mi vista.
Y ahora una canción de Calamaro:
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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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;
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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."
………………………………………………………….
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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I stopped in to see my local mechanic to have some minor work done on my car, and snapped this chaotic abstract of his workbench. Messy does not imply that he's incompetent; far from it. He just has no time for such niceties -- he was up until 2AM the night before working on repairs for clients. Jokingly known locally as either 'Boy Wonder' or "Child Mechanic", he started doing repairs at age 13. Now barely in his mid-twenties, he owns the building, the land, and is planning to add more space to his shop. Seen in rural western Ireland.
EN: "Corvid-19" is my own remake of "The birds", so a well-deserved tribute to the visionary thriller by Alfred Hitchcock!
The black and bad virus is ready to attack, from the terrace of the castle of Saint-Germain-en-Laye (Yvelines-78)
In the background, one can see the towers of the Paris business district of "La Défense", 15 kilometers further.
FR : Hommage jumelé à Jean-Paul Belmondo ("Peur sur la ville" 1975) et à Alfred Hitchcock ("Les oiseaux" 1963)
Un corvidé noir scrute attentivement ce triste “monde d’après” de l’incompétence managériale étatique et de l’incongruité infantilisante administrative, depuis son poste d’observation de la terrasse du château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye (78)...
Avec la "skyline" brumeuse des tours du quartier de La Défense en arrière-plan, que le corvidé a déserté... depuis qu’il est contraint au télétravail ! 😊
Mais les charognards sont heureux, car ils ont inventé avant nous le "click and collect"...
Et "Corvidé" se dit "Corvid" en anglais...
Et “Corvus Corone” (on a échappé à Corona) est le nom latin de la corneille noire !
Ce bon vieil Alfred était donc un visionnaire !
“Etonnant, non ?”(*)
(*) : Desproges, reviens, ils sont devenus fous !
P.S : Je m'apprêtais à écrire un titre sous forme d'anagramme "Des corbeaux & Beau décor" mais la queue du corvidé est carrée, et donc, même si mes compétences ornithologiques sont très limitées, j’en déduis qu’il s'agit sans doute d'une corneille.. Raté !
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...
-----------------------------------------------------------------
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...
…………………………………………………………………
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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Esta foto pretende ser como un muro de descarga donde cada uno pueda expresar libremente, de qué está hasta el moño, hasta las narices… en definitiva, de que estas harto.
Por ejemplo yo pondría, estoy hasta el moño de políticos incompetentes, de corruptos y mangantes…
Pero esto es sólo una opinión personal, tal vez tú estés hasta el moño de tu trabajo (si es que lo tienes, claro está, porque esa es otra cuestión), de la tele basura, de tu comunidad de vecinos, o incluso puede que estés hasta el moño de estar hasta el moño…
It is wrong, bad, careless, inefficient or incompetent to mismanage and will reflect negatively upon the outcome, whether it will be architectural, finanical, your standing in the community, or business or as a individual. Things get distorted, messy as you have let everyone down.
A competent attorney can delay one even longer ;-)
Evelle J. Younger (1918 – 1989) an American lawyer who served as the California Attorney General from 1971 to 1979
HFF! Justice Matters! No one is above the law! Resist the Orange Felon Clown Prince!
prunus mume, japanese flowering apricot, 'Okitsu-akabana', j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, raleigh, north carolina
I had planned to get the lone tree lined up with the fence post. Alas, I am an incompetent hack. lol
Happy Friday and Weekend. Apparently, we have a snowstorm coming tomorrow.
© AnvilcloudPhotography
Eglise de Saint-Germain-des-Prés (Paris)
Saint-Germain des Prés Church / Paris
Faute de mieux, une petite photo bobo-intello, couronnée de surcroît par un calembour de seconde zone...
Ça ne mange pas de pain et ça défoule un peu...
Pour oublier un instant la morosité contagieuse ambiante, entretenue par l'incompétence et la bêtise idéologique des dangereux prophètes apocalyptiques du “monde d’après” qui ânonnent quotidiennement sur les ondes... 😷
Promis, demain j'arrête de sombrer dans la facilité photographique à la mode, je me re-concentre sur de vrais sujets, et je redeviens sérieux ! 😊
Passeggiando quest'estate per le viucole tinte d'ocra di Roussillon mi colpì molto questo edificio campanario per le forme burtoniane e goticheggianti che le ombre di queste scale proiettavano sulla facciata...
non avevo notato però i due riccioli neri che proteggono l'orologio a destra e a sinistra come angeli custodi...
ieri sera non trovavo il gatto... ma dopo un po' che cerco mi viene in mente che non poteva che essere andato lì a trovare i suoi riccioli amici... e infatti...
P.S. primo tentativo di realizzare tali pastrugnerie con Photoshop... a ingrandire un po' si nota che il profilo del gatto è decisamente smangiucchiato... non so se è colpa della mia incompetenza o dei dentini affilati di Carny
lo sfigatto è il cugino del gatto di Vincent
HMAS SYDNEY wassunk with all hands (645) by a German Raider HSK Kormoran, on 19 November 1941. The remains of the ship remained a mystery for nearly 70 years being located only in 2008. The floor of the pool bears the latitude and longitude of its position.
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The loss of HMAS Sydney (II) is Australia’s greatest naval tragedy. Its disappearance in 1941 without a trace left a legacy of uncertainty for decades. In March 2008, renewed efforts to find the Sydney came to fruition, confirming her fate and bringing closure to the mystery.
Celebrated for her successful battles in the Mediterranean, where she famously sank the Italian cruiser Bartolomeo Colleoni, HMAS Sydney (II) and her crew of predominantly young men received a hero’s welcome on her return to Australia in February 1941. She was then tasked with escorting troopships to South East Asia, following an Indian Ocean route along the west coast of Western Australia.
It was on the return of one of these voyages that she encountered the German Raider HSK Kormoran, on 19 November 1941. The Kormoran was disguised as a Dutch merchant vessel that was seemingly incompetent at returning the Sydney's signals, unaware, the Sydney approached the unknown vessel. Once within range where her superior armament could not advantageously defend her, the Komoran used the advantage of surprise and brought all its armament to bear on the Sydney.
Info from: museum.wa.gov.au/explore/sydney
See this link on the memorial for the symbolism behind the creation: www.hmassydneymemorialgeraldton.com.au
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...
-----------------------------------------------------------------
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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These are Short-finned Pilot Whales (Globicephala macrorhynchus) messing about in a large pod off Baja. They are very deep diving whales so quite difficult to catch at the surface. There were about forty whales in this pod doing lots of spyhopping and tail-lobbing. I think there is a third animal visible here in front of the spyhopper. They are often found in large groups and are called Pilot Whales because they were believed to be piloted by a leader. The phrase "drop the pilot" means to abandon an untrustworthy or incompetent leader but it was also a 1983 single for Joan Armatrading.
for appointment by the corrupt few ;-(
George Bernard Shaw
HBW! Truth Matters! Vote!!
Perovskia, Russian Sage, 'Crazy Blue', j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, raleigh, north carolina
1922 Duesenberg 'Straight 8', coachwork, by Fleetwood Metal Body in Pennsylvania. Straight 8 which was the actual name at the time, and the Model A name came much later. This is the second Duesenberg passenger car (non-racing) sold to the public, and the first dual cowl phaeton.
The Duesenberg Model A was the first automobile in series production to have hydraulic brakes and the first automobile in series production in the United States with a straight-eight engine, and you were getting all of the Duesenberg Bros. race bred chassis and OHC engine goodies.
Remember in this era, Duesenberg had won at the Indy 500 twice in a row, and won Le Mans outright, so their state of the art was truly state of the art. And it Cost big, as the cars were significantly more expensive than their Cadillac and Packard luxury competition. The Duesenberg brothers were as incompetent in business as they were brilliant in engineering, and few cars were built or sold, so they slid gradually into insolvency until rescued by a fast talking salesman.......E. L. Cord, the owner of Auburn Automobile, and other transportation firms, bought the Duesenberg Motor Corporation on October 26, 1926 for the brothers' engineering skills, talent and brand name. He intended to produce a car to rival the size, power, and luxury of top European brands such as Hispano-Suiza and Rolls-Royce. And they succeeded magnificently with the fabulous Model J which debuted in 1928. If it hadn't been for the Great Depression, who knows........ real Duesenbergs might still exist........
For a detailed and extremely interesting backstory see:
heacockclassic.com/articles/model-a-duesenberg-americas-f...
AS ALWAYS....COMMENTS & INVITATIONS with AWARD BANNERS will be respectfully DELETED!
The model didn't colaborate to this shot... I just asked to stand still for 275 sec.... Incompetent.. :)
Sunset at Algés, near Lisbon, Portugal
Estas fotografías son de Mayo del 2020 y corresponden a la serie denominada "Paseos Constitucionales". En realidad eran paseos en contra del decreto del gobierno para que no nos desplazáramos libremente fuera del domicilio. El decreto era anticonstitucional. Los golfos del Tribunal Constitucional tardaron dos años en "descubrirlo". Leyendo el decreto cuando se publico se sabia que aquello no se ajustaba a la Constitución vigente.
Y algún intercambio de opinión sobre el tema hubo con algún agente policial con exceso de celo.
Y, claramente, si el general Franco no me arresto nunca en el domicilio no se lo iba a permitir a esta panda de chapuceros incompetentes. Esta es la historia.
These photographs are from May 2020 and correspond to the series called "Constitutional Walks". In reality, they were walks against the government decree so that we would not move freely outside the home. The decree was unconstitutional. The gulfs of the Constitutional Court took two years to "discover it". Reading the decree when it was published, it was known that it did not conform to the current Constitution.
And there was some exchange of opinion on the subject with some overzealous police officer.
And, clearly, if General Franco never arrested me at home, he was not going to allow this bunch of incompetent bunglers. This is the story.
Sentimentos ...
Quando fico triste
Ouço, belchior.
Quando fico euforico, Hermeto,
Romantico, a Rosa,
Quando quero pensar Lenine,
Quando oprimido, o Rappa.
Melancólico, Vander Lee.
Confuso, Miles.
Deprimido, Paulinho Pedra Azul.
Alegre, Maceo Parker.
Introspectivo, Elis.
Com tesão, Djavan.
Pos tesão, Maria Bethania
Na fossa, Joyce.
Na bossa, Tom.
Na roça ,Sa e Guarabira.
Intelecto, Ednardo.
Meio deprimido, Nina Simone.
Totalmente deprimido, Sarah Vaughn.
Astuto, Jackson Brown,
Fudido, Marcelo D2 ou o Pensador.
Bolado, Bob Marley.
Cansado, Joao bosco.
Carente, Calcanhoto.
Docente, Marina.
Perplexo, Raiz de Pedra.
Doente, Joao Nogueira.
Contente, Sivuca.
Esperansoco, toquinho
Ante deprimido, James Taylor.
Inspirado, escrevo um soneto ou Vinicius.
Ligado, Bezerra.
Malandro, um samba quadrado do Martinho.
Saudoso, Papete.
Duvidoso, Moska.
Anarquico, Cazuza..
Desafiante, Tom Zé.
Calmo, nada, nunca estou calmo.
Meio tonto, Pink Floyd.
Meio zen, Doces Barbaros.
Melodico, Melodia.
Sossegado, Tim Maia.
Na paz, Cassia Eller.
Paulistano, Fernanda Abreu.
Carioca, Sandra Sá.
Mineiro, Tizumba.
Bahiano, Gil.
Cearense, Alceu,
Paraibano, Zé Ramalho.
Gaucho, Aline.
Argentino, ninguém, nem o Barbiere.
Elegante, Seu Jorge.
Triunfante, Mutantes.
Velho, Rita Lee.
Amigo de musico importante, Toada.
De cabeça pra baixo, Arthur Maia, Jaco.
De incompetente na bateria, Buddy Rich.
Contemplativo blues, T. J. Walker.
Quando chega o Blues, Buddy Guy.
Brigāo, mulher...
E vc?
PQP. Nunca pensei que eu tinha tantos sentimentos.
Le circostanze possono forzare un incompetente generalizzato a diventare competente in un campo specifico.
Arthur Bloch
25NC 3437 crossing the Modder River Bridge behind Perdeberg on the way from Kimberley to Bloemfontein on July 19, 2024.
It was 4:57 pm and the train had been scheduled to be here around 9 am, so basically 8 hours delayed, due to an incompetent yard manager at Bloemfontein.
Large logo 37403 'Isle of Mull' heads away from Nottingham with 1Z27, the 07.25 'Jolly Fisherman' charter from Birmingham New Street to Skegness.
I specifically chose this location to show the result of either the criminal underfunding of our railway's infrastructure or the incompetent allocation of resources by Network Rail, which now leaves lineside vegetation unchecked.
Yes, of course, there is some photographic self interest here as, only a couple of years ago, there used to be a great summer shot to be had from the corner of the ramp on the left. Not any more! But there is a more general point in that here, as in so many locations now, the vegetation (particularly Buddleia) is actually being sculpted by passing trains, and it is surely only a matter of time before either a driver or a member of the travelling public gets injured by an invasive branch.
It needs sorting!! Rant over!