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A inside view of the Arboretum before it was shut off to the public. There were lots of Rhodos to be seen amongst all the weeds.
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Yesterday was Sailor Moon's 20th birthday!!! *____*
Happy b-day, Usagi-chan!!! ^.~
Sailor Moon felt doll for Helo!!! ❤
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Ontem foi o vigésimo aniversário da Sailor Moon!!! *____*
Parabéns para a Usagi-chan!!! ^.~
Sailor Moon felt doll para a Helo!!! ❤
Wood statue of St. James the Greater, with a book, pilgrim satchel and hat.
Augustiner Museum
Freiburg im Breisgau, Germany
They arrived today!=)~ Crappy photo is crappy (sorry!x.x') but my girls are adorable here!=) Candy won two lovely pink hair pieces... that I need to cut!^^ Look at the size of Cassie's (Byul Paulia) wig!='D LOL I don't have the guts to cut it!='D Now she's Tangled Cassie!xD And Baby has a wig and two hair pieces, I need to fix them yet, but she's always a cutie!~♥
~~~~~♥
As meninas com as perucas novas!=) Quer dizer, a Baby e a Cassie, a Candy ganhou dois apliques cor-de-rosa de presente (que preciso cortar!;.;~Não sabia que eram tão enormes, na imagem da loja dizia que só tinham 16 cm!xD Fico com pena de cortar, mas eles foram baratos, então menos pior!^^'). Escolhi uma rosa que é já dividida ao meio (ela é costurada formando os dois rabinhos) para a Cassie, já que é o penteado que mais gosto e não queria fugir muito do penteado da peruquinha original dela (que é linda e eu adoro e guardei com muito carinho ♥). Pra Baby comprei uma curtinha (que não veio tão curtinha quanto eu queria!xD Mas agora não sei se tenho coragem de cortar!;.;~) e dois apliques da mesma cor, assim ela pode usar maria-chiquinhas quando quiser ( quer dizer, quando mamãe quiser, que nenê usa o que mamãe mandar!u.u~).
Ficaram lindas, não?=) Infelizmente posar três bonecas ao mesmo tempo é meio difícil pra mim (oi, sou torta!='D Huhauha, mas um dia consigo!xD) e não consegui uma foto que mostrasse como ficaram fofinhas em toda... suas fofuras!huahua, mas ai dá pra ter uma idéia!^^
Comprei os apliques para a Candy porque gosto muito do cabelo da Byul Sucre e quando pedi os apliques tinha meio que me convencido a não compra-la... mas agora já me convenci de que "OMGNÃOVIVOSEM!!!111" e...bem, ficarão as duas de cabelo mint+rosa!xD
A caixa que vieram as peruquinhas (e que foi parar na Anvisa e, sim, tinha um creme de rosto de brinde dentro da caixa e acho que foi isso!D: Pelo menos a moça da Anvisa disse que deve ter sido!=P) era ENORME, tipo, LOL, oi, era para NÃO chamar atenção, huahua, se eu pudesse pedia pra mandarem todas essas coisas mais caras dentro de um saco de lixo, pra passarem desapercebidas na alfandega, especialmente se é EMS, hauha, afff!xD Não sei como funciona lá, mas, né, podiam ter atochado as perucas numa caixinha mais humilde!xD
~~~~~♥
Baby: Ô Cassie, você pintou o cabelo? o.o
Cassie: Não, tomei suco de morango e ele ficou assim. UAU. O3O~
Baby: ...o.o... Mesmo-mesmo? o.o
Cassie: Claro! O3Ó
Baby: Ah... ô, Cassie, é verdade que pra cada mentira que você contou seu cabelo cresceu um pouquinho? o.o
Cassie: Não. O3O
Candy: *pisca*pisca*♥ ♥ ♥ *sparkle* sparkle* ~ ^.~~♥
You probably won't like this but I've been working on it for a while. However, if you do feel like reading, here's a song to listen to while you do.
“Excuse me, sir. I am quite cold. May I please borrow your jacket?”
She was sitting in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. The receptionist kept staring through the glass above the desk. “Ma’am, you are going to have to stop asking people for their clothes.”
Embarrassed, she shrugged her shoulders and folded into herself. Waiting, waiting. That’s all she did. Pulling her knees to her chest for warmth, she let her hair fall into her eyes. Breathe, one, two, heartbeat, hear it. Breathe, one, two, it’s gone. If she held her breath, closed her eyes, and rested her head on her knees the drumming of her pulse electrified her body. She was cold.
She was so cold. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she absent-mindedly rubbed her arms, trying to bring the life and color back. “Excuse me, miss?”
The receptionist’s eyes darted as her head snapped up. She didn’t reply. Instead she just stared. Stared and stared.
“Excuse me, miss?”
“What!”
“Excuse me, miss, but I was wondering how much longer?”
“How much longer for what?”
“Excuse me, miss—”
“Oh for the love of…would you cut that out!”
“Excuse me, but cut what out?” she asked, sincerely.
“The polite bit. It’s quite obnoxious, really.”
“I’m sorry. I never meant to annoy you. But I was wondering how much longer—”
“Oh, spit it out already! How much longer for what!”
“Well, how much longer until the doctor can see me?”
The receptionist sighed and brought both hands to her face in complete exasperation. “He should be out shortly. Is that satisfactory enough for your inquiring mind?”
The words were drenched in spite. She knew well enough an answer was not sought and would, in fact, make things worse. The drumming in her ears grew louder and she curled into the uncomfortably sterile chair.
“Shelby?”
She rose quickly, dazed. Not knowing where she was. She must have fallen asleep, which seemed almost impossible.
“Sorry for the wait, honey. Such a busy day.” The nurse sighed and rolled her eyes as she pointed in the general direction they would be headed.
Shelby laughed and blinked unnecessarily because that was what she did when she was nervous. A few hallways later they arrived at the room. The nurse slipped the chart into a plastic tray on the door and pushed it open. “You can have a seat and the doctor will be with you shortly.”
“Excuse me, ma’am, but that phrase was used on me, verbatim, out there. I cannot even recall how long I have been here. I believe I fell asleep, actually. It must have been hours.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry for the wait, but it’s been a busy day, remember? It shouldn’t be much longer,” the nurse said as she strategically backed out of the door, closing it behind her.
It was so cold in the room. Everything had a blue hue to it, as if the room itself was becoming a block of ice. The ugly white tiles became blue under the harsh light while the repulsive green countertops became blue because they hated being green. Grabbing the inside of her thighs, she slowly leaned back until she heard the ends of her hair touch the clean paper. She opened her eyes and saw the chipped stucco ceiling became blue because all the uneven parts were staring at her like a beaten face. The cheap cabinets became blue as they whispered angry, bitter secrets to their captives in glass jars. The chair that squeaked when she moved was already blue from all the patients who had come before her. She thought probably their veins had stained it, their fists had beaten the color out. The lighting had nothing to do with that.
She startled at the knock on the door. Too quickly, she said, “Come in!” She was relieved to see he was thin; overweight doctors perturbed her to no end.
“How are we doing today?” He smiled. His teeth showed. They were white and crooked. They reminded her of ice, so white and packed together capriciously. She was so cold. The phrasing of his question dumbfounded her. Against her will, she felt her eyes narrow and her brow furrow. We? Who would ever think to take an already insincere formality and include themselves in it?
“Excuse me, sir, but that is rather arrogant, don’t you think?”
His pen stopped mid stroke. “What is rather arrogant?”
“Well, presuming that I would want my day to be impudently lumped into the same category as yours? What if today happened to be the best day of your life, and I got hit by a cyclist en route to this appointment? Or maybe I received an anonymous check of a monumental measure in the mail, but you couldn’t find a tie to match today? Quite frankly, the former seems more applicable to our situation.”
He shook his head but his hair stayed in place. “It’s just a greeting, Shelby.”
She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head just slightly to the right, letting her hair fall over her face.
The doctor sighed. “So what brought us—er, you here today?”
She looked down at her nails. Picked at the raw skin as she did so often, unaware. Concentrating on the rise and fall of her ribcage, she blinked with the same rhythm. How to start. Where to begin. What story to bring to life.
“Shelby?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her, slightly bewildered. It had been five minutes. Five minutes of silence. Five minutes of his watch ticking, reminding him of what he was losing by staying in that room. It was so deafening, the passing of each second. He wasn’t quite sure why he had let the time pass without saying anything for so long. It had been such a busy day. There was so much left to do. “Could you tell me why you are here?”
“Yes.” She was cold. She was calm. Too calm to be sick. Too calm to be healthy.
He waited for her to elaborate but she never did. He wasn’t going to wait any longer. “Shelby, I need to know what the problem is or you’ll have to leave. As I said before, it’s a busy day.” He was losing patience.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry.” She shook her head slowly, clearing it. Blinked fast. Laughed. Nervous. Anxiety. “It was so hot outside, I sweated off all my makeup. But now I am quite cold. Quite cold indeed. Might I borrow your jacket? Oh, excuse me, you don’t have one. My apologies, doctor.”
He just kept staring. She cleared her throat. Twisted her hair around her middle finger. Blinked fast. Didn’t laugh. “Well. Anyway.” She took a deep breath and watched her hands shake. That never happened. She didn’t know what it could mean. “Well, doctor. I was hoping you could give me an explanation for my constant need for affirmation. No matter what I do and how people react to it, I feel the need for more. Maybe it’s more correct or ‘right’ to say want rather than need. Except it just cannot adequately describe the racing thoughts, the constant drumbeat that can be counted out on my wrist. Just by looking at the tiny blue veins go up, down, up, down. Blood traveling, eyes going black or blotchy. Feel the need. ‘Tell me I’m good and sane and happy. Tell me that’s enough to keep people alive.’ And the thing is, doctor, they can’t give that to me, and I’m merely questioning why that is. Either there simply is nothing about me that is good, sane, and happy, or it’s all in my head and I need you to tell me what the cause is and the treatment which follows.”
He was thinking something she could not read. After years of experience he knew how to maintain composure. He knew how to be aware of every muscle in his face. Make sure they didn’t move, let anyone know his thoughts or judgments. That was why his divorce would be final in a matter of days. But he had yet to figure out a way to hide his eyes. They told, every time.
He cleared his throat before saying, “I’m the wrong kind of doctor you’re looking for.”
“You help people with physical ailments, do you not? Or refer them somewhere else if the issue seems out of your skill range?” she said hastily.
He sighed and started writing something with such elegance, she was impressed. None of that chicken scrawl doctors were so prone to. “That is correct, Shelby, but what you described is not a physical ailment. At least, not in the way you are thinking. It’s more of a psychological problem. I’ll refer you to a psychologist or psychiatrist. Or both, it doesn’t matter.”
“Excuse me, it does matter! There is something physically wrong with my brain and—”
“Maybe so,” he said, clicking his pen and sliding it into his pocket. “That is why I would recommend a psychiatrist. Maybe medication is the way to go.”
She felt her throat close up with tears. “No, doctor, you’ve misunderstood me. I also don’t appreciate you saying you know what I’m thinking. It is completely apparent that you do not.” A tear rolled down her cheek. He hated seeing patients cry.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
She blinked fast and replied, “No. If you were sorry you would ask about my thoughts, not boldly claim to know them. If you were apologetic in the least you would do something to repay me so you could sleep well tonight. But you aren’t sorry. You haven’t done those things. You don’t want to listen to me explain how words feel in my mouth. You don’t want to listen to me go off on tangents and slowly realize what I’ve done. You aren’t sorry at all. You have a sweet little life with your wife and children, and though it isn’t perfect, it’s better than mine.”
He felt the anger burn in his legs. “Oh, don’t you dare do the self-pity bullshit. I won’t stand for that.”
She leaned back in on the chair, taken by surprise. “Excuse me, I am not—”
“Oh yes, you are. I’ve seen people come in here for routine checks to find out they need to be sent somewhere else because they are most likely dying. Do you know how they handle it? They cry and they write their letters and they sell their house and finally go on that trip around the world they always said they would do. And then they come home and they wait out their time. Or they never come back from the trip. They live their lives, or what they have left of them. But I have never, and I mean never, known someone who was dying to be so self-centered to think they knew everything. No one has ever sat on that same table there and acted the way you have. I won’t tolerate it. You get your ‘poor me’ attitude out of here and find someone else who will enable you. Because you sure aren’t getting it from me. Now I believe it’s time for you to leave.”
Her shoulders stiffened. She leaned over to pick up her purse off the floor. “Excuse me, doctor, but could you answer one last question for me?”
He bit the inside of his cheek and flicked his wrist. He was interested in what she had to say, as much as he tried to deny that to himself.
“Could you tell me if the parking lots and spaces for people with disabilities include depression? Schizophrenia? Bipolar disorder? OCD? Good old fashion craziness?”
He didn’t know how to reply. Instead he locked his eyes on her as she slipped off the edge of the table. Her shoes were silent as she seemed to float across the floor to the door. Before closing it loudly, she said, “That’s what I thought.”
After he finished his notes he propped open the door as he walked back to the desks. He had one other patient to see. The receptionist looked up from her computer screen. “Any changes?” She raised her eyebrows.
“No. She doesn’t remember a thing,” he said, dropping the chart on someone’s desk. “She has no idea.”
07/09/14
Getty Images licensed this image.
www.gettyimages.com/detail/photo/woven-royalty-free-image...
Rocky HIll, CT
After having my tires serviced in a nearby tire dealer one Saturday morning, I got into my car, started the engine and got set to drive away. As I turned my head left to check for oncoming cars, I caught a glimpse of the shop's wide open storage bin way over at the very end of the parking lot. And these artfully stacked tires inside beckoned me to photograph them. I turned my engine off, grabbed my camera and proceeded to have a field day.
ROAD TO HELLpresents
-Aguirre(bordeaux) x GUEVNNA x Zothique
japan tour 2015
at Koiwa Bushbash
2015/7/24(fri)
Inside view from Toulouse Blagnac airport car park.
Shot with Canon EOS 5D Mk. I + Tamron SP AF Aspherical Di LD IF 17-35 f/2.8-4 @17mm, f/2.8
Post processed with Silver Efex Pro 2
Explore on 27/12/11
No graphic content in comments please! Thanks
Guilherme Arantes (Portuguese pronunciation: [ɡiˈʎɛrmi aˈrãtis]) is a Brazilian singer-songwriter and pianist. As a teenager, he was a member of the band Os Polissonantes, which also featured Brazilian actor Kadu Moliterno on Bass guitar. In 1969, Arantes started the band Moto Perpétuo with fellow students from USP's architecture course. It was with Moto Perpétuo that Arantes got his first taste of touring and recording in a studio. The band split up in 1974 as Arantes wanted to pursue a more commercial, pop style of music. Arantes dropped out of university to dedicate himself to his solo career, and in 1976, his song Meu mundo e nada mais (My world and nothing more) was picked by Rede Globo to feature in the soundtrack for the telenovela Anjo Mau. The song was a hit, and Arantes toured the country for the first time. His first self-titled album was released the same year on Globo's Som Livre label. The song Cuide-se bem (Take good care) from the same record, was also picked by Globo for another telenovela, Duas Vidas. Arantes went on to write another 23 songs for Globo's telenovelas, most of which became radio hits.Besides his solo work, he has also written songs for artists such as Gang 90 & Absurdettes, Elis Regina, Marina Lima and Maria Bethânia.
And if you come close enough maybe I will tell you. Maybe, finally, I will open my mouth and let you see what I have kept inside for so long. If you come closer I will whisper in your ear, I will speak of mountains and oceans and adventures. I will show you what you have shown me. If you come closer I will hold your hand in mine and never let it grow cold. I will be your summer in winter and your light in the darkness. But you are wary of this fire, you know if you come closer you might get burnt. And so as the sparks begin you move further away.
Anglesey Abbey's Lode Mill dates from the 18th century, but early records, including the 1068 Doomsday Book describe a building on this site. The Lode Mill was restored to full working order in 1982 by the Cambridgeshire Wind and Watermill Society. Today you can step inside and see how the power of water is harnessed to grind tens of tons of flour every year. Freshly ground flour from the Mill and oatmeal are sold by the bag, direct from the Abbey, delicious for bread making or dumplings!
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Using a reversed prime F1.8 lens, I was able to see into this flower, and find its inner most details.
It was a labor of love that took a couple hours because of the very shallow depth of field I was working with. Getting the natural light just where I wanted was very tricky, and getting the photo sharp in just the right place was even trickier.
I'm very happy I paid attention to all the little details, because I ended up really enjoying the overall look of this photo. One I will be very proud of years from now.
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Hasselblad 500C/M • Carl Zeiss 80mm f/2.8 Planar C T* • Fujichrome Provia 400X pushed one stop (converted to B+W) • Sekonic L-308S Flashmate • CanoScan 8800F
Same soft and comfortable seats as their other super deluxe units. Pero tong 56 wider ata? Look at the isle, hindi na kailangan tumagilid para maglakad, malapad =)
You know even though I was doin' the Davy Crockett for a couple of days that I never forgot my love for the close-up.
Any excuse to stop and have a couple in Madison Wisconsin is good enough for me...
and it was on the way home sort of.
I was knocking back a cold one and Erin walked in and sat down at the bar.
She's a beautiful woman and that always perks me up.
Then she sat down close to me and as a guy and a photographer and a people watcher I couldn't help but to study her just a little bit.
She seemed like she was in a good mood... but nervous too maybe... and she was wearing this very pretty dress.
My first impression was that she was going on a date.
A first date maybe.
You can figure out the rest I'm sure.
That new Nikon D700 worked its magic and Erin and I struck up a conversation.
She was a very nice woman with a great energy about her.
Something radiant really.
We talked about a whole bunch of things there.
Erin said she'd lost a lot of weight in the past.
We talked about love and life and big changes as far as both go and what they do to a person.
Erin's no stranger to all of that.
She's walked a path that usually only souls much older than her can talk about.
Something inside her was just shining though and as backlit as she was I just hadda start poppin' off the frames.
Erin was actually celebrating a very significant anniversary that day.
It was so nice to meet you and get to know a little bit about you Erin.
I hope the rest of your evening was spectacular and things are going well for you.
And if anyone asks...
you never saw me there!
All the best to you girl.
We are all on the same journey.
My mother handed me a brown crumpled grocery bag and said, “This is for you.” Keepsakes are handed out like this in my family. I keep telling myself it is part of the charm. In truth, it feels more like an illegal exchange. Inside was the rolling pin and I knew immediately whose it was. I had seen it used my entire life and yet if I dusted it for prints the owner’s would not be found. They had been worn into the wood long ago, an estimated 85 years of celebrations and sorrows rolled out into cookies and pies. My grandmother was proud of the fact she had no fingerprints. Just soft pads remained and to her that proved she had lived life right. She’d show me her fingertips with a smile but made it known she never wanted me to wear mine off. The fact I didn’t have to was another one of her accomplishments.
My grandmother prayed everyday NOT to make it to 100. She died at 99 years 11 months. She wasn’t depressed and was really quite spry, she just had an aversion to having to use 3 numbers to define her age. “It’s time to go.” she would say in her thick Swiss accent. “I don’t know anyone anymore.” I, being in my early thirties, would cheerily say – “you know me!” She would roll her eyes. I didn’t understand and it would take me years to grasp – it was her peers she missed. She finally passed one night in her chair without much ado. I know once freed of her aged body she sprinted for the bright, white light with all her might. The long distance runner finally seeing the finish line.
I like to use her rolling pin. I admit I don’t bake as much as she did. When I do, it reminds me of her and there is a warmth in my heart.
Rolleiflex Automat
Xenar 75mm f/3.5
Ilford HP5+ 400, Pushed to 1600 ISO
Exposure: f/3.5, 1/30
Me, Rolleiflex, Sekonic and messy bathroom.
Shot with Ilford HP5+ 400, pushed to 1600 ISO. With a two stop push, the contrast of this film goes through the roof. I had a hard time scanning it and took a while before I got it to the point I was happy with it in the Canon software. Once in Photoshop, I tweaked it some more and had a eureka! moment when I discovered the negative preset in curves to compare my adjustments to the original negative. I got it pretty close to the exposure I made.
[ blog: Bright Lights and Vegas Nights ]
This pizza recipe is very easy to make. If you like you can use other toppings than pepperoni, mushrooms, onion and red pepper.
Ms. Joaninha is Otávio´s wife. Here is her in the old kitchen.
Dona Joaninha é esposa do Seu Otávio. Aqui ela na cozinha antiga.