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I cannot always control what goes on outside. But I can always control what goes on inside.
Wayne Dyer
Have a great new week everyone.
Copyright© 2013 Kim Hojnacki
This image is protected under the United States and International Copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without written permission.
“Do not be envious of evil men, Nor desire to be with them; for their heart devises violence, and their lips talk of trouble making.” Proverbs 24: 1-2
“I have watched you through the eyes of many, I have seen the way you go about life with a smile and a lightness to your spirit. It is clear in the minds of all that there is something different about you, a piece of me inside of you that changes the atmosphere where you walk. There is a kindness to the way you speak that is rarely found in those around you but then like a sheep following its herd, you stumble sideways into the field of emotions. You allow your desire to be accepted and your need to be recognized shadow the beautiful truth hiding behind your eyes. You allow yourself to be left in the dust to only become lungs breathing, a heart beating, limbs moving but never anything more. I have called you to live and I have called you to be, not to only exist. I care little for what others do in the world but more so for why you feel you must do as they do? Hear my voice, my child, as I call to you. Feel my love as it wraps around your sleeping body in the night. They speak into your life and take you by the hand but you know their promises of romance, of money, of fullness will never satisfy like I. Come back to your first love, come back to the only love that can heal you of those scars. Know that I am Lord, Know that I have watched you grow and have watched my light inside of you burn as an inspiration to others. Know that I am waiting for your return like a Sheppard calling out to his lost sheep. You are called to something bigger and the hurts of this world are not a part of this plan.
Stand on your own, make your way back to me. And oh my child, my love, watch as those who have also been lead astray will stand and follow you.”
I have believed in balance. I thought well, I’ll have a bit of the world (a boyfriend here and there, a group of friends who party and swear and influence me in unrighteous ways) but go to church on Sunday and put my hands up and sing those songs. However, it doesn’t work that way. God asks us to die to ourselves and our pride. That seems like so much but it creates this vast space inside of you that God is calling out to fill with his love, his mercy, his wisdom. I know personally I struggle with feeling left out because I don’t go to those parties and I’m not in on all the gossip. I’ve found something greater though. I’ve met people and have learned to appreciate the people around me that want to see me grow in God and to encourage me. I understand not all of you will have somebody there who shares your faith but that doesn’t mean you’re alone. I am so excited for everything God is doing in each and every one of your lives and I want you to know that you do not have to follow the herd in hope of finding something to satisfy you. It never does, it only leaves you more empty and cold than before.
“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one, to his own way; And the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed and He was afflicted, Yet He opened not His mouth; He was led as a lamb to the slaughter; And as a sheep before its shearers is silent.” Isaiah 53: 6-7
Do what you want, it’s your choice. If you see though what Jesus did for us, what God gave up for us. I hope you realize that those ‘evil men’ in your life aren’t worth your time. They may be hard to break away from but if you are constantly desiring to be one of them and to do as they do you are only leading yourself astray from the Truth.
I don’t mean to be rude but it’s about time I stopped sugar coating it.
Our friend Bree came for a visit the other day...so we did a little shoot... she is such a delight to photograph ... a beautiful lady inside and out ... 8-)
If you are going to sleep in a doorway, then a bakers is not the best choice. In order to be "baked fresh every day" bakers start work long before it gets light.
And for those not familiar with the "Pasty" here it is:
A pasty (/ˈpaesti/, Cornish: Hogen; Pasti), (sometimes known in the United States as a pastie or British pasty) is a baked pastry, a traditional variety of which is particularly associated with Cornwall, the westernmost county in England. It is made by placing uncooked filling typically of meat and vegetables, without meat in vegetarian versions, on a flat pastry circle and folding it to wrap the filling, crimping the edge to form a seal. After baking, the result is a raised semicircular comestible.
The traditional Cornish pasty, which has Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) status in Europe, is filled with beef, sliced or diced potato, swede (also known as a yellow turnip or rutabaga – referred to in Cornwall as turnip) and onion, seasoned with salt and pepper, and is baked. Today, the pasty is the food most associated with Cornwall, it is regarded as the national dish, and it accounts for 6% of the Cornish food economy. Pasties with many different fillings are made; some shops specialise in selling all sorts of pasties.
The origins of the pasty are unclear, though there are many references to them throughout historical documents and fiction. The pasty is now popular world-wide due to the spread of Cornish miners, and variations can be found in Australia, the United States, Mexico and elsewhere.
Despite the modern pasty's strong association with Cornwall, its exact origins are unclear. The term "pasty" is an English word borrowed from Medieval French (O.Fr. paste from V.Lat pasta) for a pie, filled with venison, salmon or other meat, vegetables or cheese, baked without a dish. Pasties have been mentioned in cookbooks throughout the ages; for example the earliest version of Le Viandier has been dated to around 1300 and contains several pasty recipes. In 1393, Le Menagier De Paris contains recipes for pasté with venison, veal, beef, or mutton.
Other early references to pasties include a 13th-century charter which was granted by Henry III (1207–1272) to the town of Great Yarmouth. The town is bound to send to the sheriffs of Norwich every year one hundred herrings, baked in twenty four pasties, which the sheriffs are to deliver to the lord of the manor of East Carlton who is then to convey them to the King. Around the same time, 13th century chronicler Matthew Paris wrote of the monks of St Albans Abbey "according to their custom, lived upon pasties of flesh-meat". A total of 5,500 venison pasties were served at the installation feast of George Neville, archbishop of York and chancellor of England in 1465.[9] They were even eaten by royalty, as a letter from a baker to Henry VIII's third wife, Jane Seymour (1508–1537) confirms: "...hope this pasty reaches you in better condition than the last one..." In his diaries written in the mid 17th century, Samuel Pepys makes several references to his consumption of pasties, for instance "dined at Sir W. Pen’s ... on a damned venison pasty, that stunk like a devil.", but after this period the use of the word outside Cornwall declined.
In contrast to its earlier place amongst the wealthy, during the 17th and 18th centuries the pasty became popular with working people in Cornwall, where tin miners and others adopted it due to its unique shape, forming a complete meal that could be carried easily and eaten without cutlery. In a mine the pasty's dense, folded pastry could stay warm for several hours, and if it did get cold it could easily be warmed on a shovel over a candle.
Side-crimped pasties gave rise to the suggestion that the miner might have eaten the pasty holding the thick edge of pastry, which was later discarded, thereby ensuring that his dirty fingers (possibly including traces of arsenic) did not touch food or his mouth. However many old photographs show that pasties were wrapped in bags made of paper or muslin and were eaten from end-to-end; according to the earliest Cornish recipe book, published in 1929, this is "the true Cornish way" to eat a pasty. Another theory suggests that pasties were marked at one end with an initial and then eaten from the other end so that if not finished in one go, they could easily be reclaimed by their owners.
In 2006, a researcher in Devon discovered a recipe for a pasty tucked inside an audit book and dated 1510, calculating the cost of the ingredients. This replaced the previous oldest recipe, dated 1746, held by the Cornwall Records Office in Truro, Cornwall. The dish at the time was cooked with venison, in this case from the Mount Edgcumbe estate, as the pasty was then considered a luxury meal. Alongside the ledger, which included the price of the pasty in Plymouth, Devon in 1509, the discovery sparked a controversy between the neighbouring counties of Devon and Cornwall as to the origin of the dish. However, the term pasty appears in much earlier written records from other parts of the country, as mentioned above.
CHAIKA-II (type 1a, 1968) half frame camera (24x18)
Lens: INDUSTAR-69 2.8/28mm
Shutter: Leaf shutter (1/30- 1/60 - 1/125 - 1/250 +B)
Film: 35mm (72 frames in 24mm x 18mm)
Made by MMZ
Dan Mumford rockets through a dark backwoods highway. The curiosity in the eyes of opossums, and raccoons reflects back with the headlights of his convertible as it pieces the night like a shining hole in a black canopy. The top is down, and into the air he sings along shouting,
“Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen. Give me down to there hair, shoulder length or longer. Here baby, there mama everywhere daddy daddy. Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair!”
Flowing hair envelopes the bulk of Dan Mumford’s work. It ties together not only each individual work, but his work as a whole, and for his constant vision Dan Mumford is Creative Tempest’s newest artist of the week. Find out more at www.creativetempest.com
Circumcision instruments from the Jewish hospital in Berlin. (1998-2001 Stainless steel and other material).
(anti-clockwise from from top-left)
-- Really? You want me to play with string AGAIN ...
-- What'da ya think, String? ...
-- So, you gonna try and run away, are ya ...
-- Gotcha!!
-- I'll teach you! I'm gonna shake the heck out of you!!
-- Right, now what?
IMG_3381.jpg
another manipulated face.....
thanks for looking.....appreciated.....best bigger.......hope you have a Great Week & Happy New Year
Vorreste misurare il tempo, l’incommensurabile e l’immenso.
Vorreste regolare il vostro comportamento e dirigere il corso del vostro spirito secondo le ore e le stagioni.
Del tempo vorreste fare un fiume per sostate presso la sua riva e guardarlo fluire.
Ma l’eterno che è in voi sa che la vita è senza tempo
E sa che l’oggi non è che il ricordo di ieri, e il domani il sogno di oggi.
E ciò che in voi è canto e contemplazione dimora quieto
Entro i confini di quel primo attimo in cui le stelle furono disseminate nello spazio.
Chi di voi non sente che la sua forza d’amore è sconfinata?
E chi non sente che questo autentico amore, benché sconfinato, è racchiuso nel centro del proprio essere,
E non passa da pensiero d’amore a pensiero d’amore, né da atto d’amore ad atto d’amore?
E non è forse il tempo, così come l’amore, indiviso e immoto?
Ma se col pensiero volete misurare il tempo in stagioni, fate che ogni stagione racchiuda tutte le altre,
E che il presente abbracci il passato con il ricordo, e il futuro con l’attesa.
Kahlil Gibran
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
What he/she think, as he/she saw all those visitors...?
(Ape-House, Wilhelma Stuttgart)
Was er/sie wohl dachte, als er/sie all die Besucher sah...?
(Affenhaus, Wilhelma Stuttgart)
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.
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 =)