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This is the young male rhinoceros who was only a few days old, lying in the enclosure (under the supervision of his mother).
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This is Lies!
She is leaving for a new Docters without Borders mission next week and this seemed the perfect time to do a portrait!
Good luck on your mission Lies!
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Taken at Lier Mental Hospital a abandoned mental institution.
Big thanks to SatriaVision for showing us the place, take your time to visit his photos!
The Karlsruhe castle is the center of the Karlsruhe fan. It was built in 1715-1718 by order of Margrave Karl Wilhelm of Baden-Durlach and was until 1918 Royal Palace of each reigning sovereign (Margrave, later Grand Duke of Baden).
General
Before the castle lies the Palace Square. Directly behind the castle begins the castle garden. The castle along with court and garden does not belong to the city of Karlsruhe, but the state of Baden-Württemberg. It houses the Badische State Museum and the castle café.
From the castle tower you can enjoy a very good view into the Karlsruhe fan. To experience this, though, 158 steps in the castle tower have got to overcome.
In October 2013, the castle for a comprehensive facade and roof renovation was completely scaffolded. The state invests four million euros in the measures. The scaffolds are likely to be dismantled in March 2015 and thus before the extensive celebrations of the 300th anniversary of the city. In addition to optical measures thereby porous sandstone and rotten wood must be replaced. The previous facade renovation took place in 1988.
History
Original construction in 1715
Architect of built 1715-1718 castle was the engineer lieutenant Jakob Friedrich von Batzendorf, construction manager was Heinrich Schwartz from Hamburg. The outer walls as well as the castle tower, which constituted a novelty at that time, were built of stone, the interior design was built for reasons of cost of wood. The western wing was, also for reasons of cost, originally shorter than the eastern wing which also contained a ballroom, an opera house and a chapel.
Renovation and reconstruction from 1750
From 1750, the castle had got to be thoroughly overhauled because it was originally built with poor building materials. In the period 1752-1785 it was according to repeatedly revised plans by Balthasar Neumann of Albrecht Friedrich von Kesslau (around 1728-1788), the then Planning Director at Baden Court, and his successor Wilhelm Jeremias Müller in the Baroque style completely rebuilt of stone. in doing so, the castle itself has been changed several times in the interior and refurbished.
The garden hall was 1819 the venue of the Second Chamber of the Parliament of Baden.
In 1846 the castle rooms and the Palace Square and the adjoining south ministries were first illuminated by means of city gas and gas lanterns.
Baden Revolution 1848/1849
1849, Grand Duke Leopold of Baden by revolutionaries temporarily was expelled from the castle.
20th century
Until the death of Grand Duke Friedrich I in 1907 he lived also in the castle. After the death of Frederick I his wife Grand Duchess Louise did not move to a widow's seat but remained until the end of the monarchy in 1918 in the castle; her son, now Grand Duke Friedrich II, continued to live in Hereditary Grand Ducal Palais (today the BGH/Federal Supreme Court).
1921, in the former Residence the collections for Archaeology and Ethnology and the stocks of the Museum of Decorative Arts as Badisches Landesmuseum were merged.
During World War II the whole castle got a dark camouflage to complicate target recognition from the air. In September 1944, the Karlsruhe Castle was nevertheless totally destroyed by bombing. It was rebuilt - despite interim considerations to demolish the ruins for creating new living space - and restored the historic facade. During reconstruction halls have been created which correspond with the latest technical conditions in museum buildings.
Maryland State House
Stamp (City Letter) (54 ¢)
The tower of the State House in Annapolis, Maryland (USA), is the tower of Karlsruhe Castle so similar that it is speculated that this is a replica.
Das Karlsruher Schloss ist das Zentrum des Karlsruher Fächers. Es wurde zwischen 1715 und 1718 im Auftrag des Markgrafen Karl Wilhelm von Baden-Durlach errichtet und war bis 1918 Residenzschloss des jeweils regierenden Landesherrn (Markgrafen, später Großherzogs, von Baden).
Allgemein
Vor dem Schloss liegt der Schlossplatz. Direkt hinter dem Schloss beginnt der Schlossgarten. Das Schloss samt Platz und Garten gehört nicht der Stadt Karlsruhe, sondern dem Land Baden-Württemberg. Es beherbergt das Badische Landesmuseum und das Schlosscafé.
Vom Schlossturm aus bietet sich ein sehr guter Blick in den Karlsruher Fächer. Um diesen erleben zu können, sind allerdings 158 Stufen im Schlossturm zu überwinden.
Im Oktober 2013 wurde das Schloss für eine umfassende Fassaden- und Dachsanierung vollständig eingerüstet. Das Land investiert vier Millionen Euro in die Maßnahmen. Die Baugerüste sollen voraussichtlich im März 2015 wieder abgebaut werden und damit vor den umfangreichen Feierlichkeiten anlässlich des 300. Stadtjubiläums. Neben optischen Maßnahmen muss dabei poröser Sandstein und verfaultes Holz ersetzt werden. Die vorhergehende Fassadenrenovierung fand im Jahr 1988 statt.
Geschichte
Ursprünglicher Bau 1715
Architekt des zwischen 1715 und 1718 gebauten Schlosses war der Ingenieur-Leutnant Jakob Friedrich von Batzendorf, Bauleiter war Heinrich Schwartz aus Hamburg. Die Außenmauern sowie der Schlossturm, der zu jener Zeit ein Novum darstellte, wurden aus Stein erbaut, der Innenausbau wurde aus Kostengründen aus Holz errichtet. Der westliche Flügel war, ebenfalls aus Kostengründen, ursprünglich kürzer als der östliche Flügel, der auch einen Ballsaal, ein Opernhaus und eine Kapelle enthielt.
Sanierung und Umbau ab 1750
Ab 1750 musste das Schloss grundlegend saniert werden, weil es ursprünglich mit schlechtem Baumaterial gebaut worden war. In der Zeit zwischen 1752 und 1785 wurde es nach mehrfach geänderten Plänen Balthasar Neumanns von Albrecht Friedrich von Kesslau (um 1728-1788), dem damaligen Baudirektor am badischen Hof, und von seinem Nachfolger Wilhelm Jeremias Müller im Stil des Barock vollständig aus Stein umgebaut. Dabei wurde das Schloss auch im Inneren mehrfach verändert und neu möbliert.
Der Gartensaal war 1819 der Tagungsort der Zweiten Kammer des badisches Parlaments.
Im Jahr 1846 wurden die Schlossräume sowie der Schlossplatz und die südlich daran angrenzenden Ministerien erstmals mittels Stadtgas und Gaslaternen beleuchtet.
Badische Revolution 1848/1849
1849 wurde Großherzog Leopold von badischen Revolutionären zeitweise aus dem Schloss vertrieben.
20. Jahrhundert
Bis zum Tod Großherzog Friedrichs I. im Jahr 1907 wohnte dieser auch im Schloss. Nach dem Tod Friedrichs I. zog dessen Gemahlin Großherzogin Luise nicht auf einen Witwensitz, sondern blieb bis zum Ende der Monarchie 1918 im Schloss; ihr Sohn, nun Großherzog Friedrich II., wohnte weiterhin im Erbgroßherzoglichen Palais (heute Sitz des BGH).
1921 wurden in der ehemaligen Residenz die Sammlungen für Altertums- und Völkerkunde und die Bestände des Kunstgewerbemuseums als Badisches Landesmuseum zusammengeführt.
Im Zweiten Weltkrieg erhielt das ganze Schloss einen dunklen Tarnanstrich, um eine Zielerfassung aus der Luft zu erschweren. Im September 1944 wurde das Karlsruher Schloss durch Bombenangriffe dennoch total zerstört. Es wurde wiederaufgebaut – trotz zwischenzeitlicher Überlegungen, die Ruine für die Schaffung neuen Wohnraumes abzureißen – und die historische Fassade wiederhergestellt. Beim Wiederaufbau wurden den neuesten museumstechnischen Bedingungen entsprechende Säle gestaltet.
Maryland State House
Briefmarke (Stadtbrief) (54 ¢)
Der Turm des State House in Annapolis, Maryland (USA) sieht dem Turm des Karlsruher Schlosses so ähnlich, dass spekuliert wird, dass dieser eine Nachbildung ist.
SNCB Class 18, 1891 with 1864 on the rear arriving into Lier working IC3415 to Turnhout, service started at Binche, taken 17th May 2017
lie to me's Kelli Williams: Meet the New Gillian Foster
lie to me made some behind-the-scenes changes this season, translating into on-screen changes for Kelli Williams' character, Gillian Foster.
Shawn Ryan tells the truth about reinventing Lie to Me
The 39-year-old former star of The Practice says the addition of executive producer Shawn Ryan and a focus on character-based stories has helped the series, which premiered as a midseason replacement in January. Williams says she welcomes the changes, which have opened numerous possibilities for Foster's future.
"Foster was in a much heavier place at the end of last year with her marriage falling apart," Williams says. "This season there's a little bit more levity in the office. And since I'm no longer with my husband, there are a lot of places they can take Foster."
For one thing, the writers chose to make Foster less of a stickler. When investigating a cultlike religious group for tax fraud earlier this season, Foster was less interested in making a case for the IRS and more focused on helping one of the families escape from the group's leader.
Roussillon is a commune in the Vaucluse department in the Provence-Alpes-Côte d'Azur region in southeastern France.
Roussillon lies within the borders of the Parc Naturel Régional du Luberon. In the French natural regional parks, new economic activities may be developed only if they are sustainable.
It is noted for its large ochre deposits found in the clay surrounding the village. Ochres are pigments ranging from yellow and orange to red. One of the former ochre quarries can be visited via the 'Sentier des Ocres' (Ochre Path), a walk of either 30 or 60 minutes through the old workings.
Because during the 18th century the demand rose for pigments to be used in the textile industry, the mining of ochres in Roussillon intensified. Numerous quarries and ochre factories, some of which can still be seen today, were situated near the village. One example of an ochre factory, the 'Usine Mathieu', is named for the family that owned it from 1870 to 1901. It has been formed into a 'Conservatoire': a workshop serving as a museum. The quarries and factories were established in the villages of Roussillon, Villars, Gargas, Rustrel (with its Colorado provençal) and Gignac.
During the 20th century, mining techniques were modernized, which meant that more profitable ochre mines became exploitable. This resulted in a gradual closing-down of ochre mines in and around Roussillon. From the 1980s, tourism has replaced ochre industry as a source of income.
Apart from tourism, agriculture is the commune's principal activity. Fruit, including cherries, peaches and melons are grown. Much of this is used in crystallized fruit production in nearby Apt. Wine-making is very important and there are several wineries producing red, rosé, and white wines within the Ventoux AOC.
The writer Samuel Beckett went into hiding from the Germans in Roussillon during the years 1942–1945. His novel Watt was written there, and Beckett mentioned the village in his famous theatreplay Waiting for Godot (En attendant Godot) (1955).
Film director Henri Colpi shot this movie Heureux qui comme Ulysse (1970) with Fernandel as the leading character in Roussillon; George Brassens wrote a chanson for the film.
Under the name of Peyrane, Roussillon is the subject of Laurence Wylie, Village in the Vaucluse (first edition 1957.)
The village gave its name to a Michelin-starred restaurant in London.
Procession for the Lying-in-State of Her Majesty The Queen
Extract from Department for Digital, Culture, Media & Sport website
On Wednesday 14 September a ceremonial procession will transport the coffin of Her Majesty The Queen from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Hall in the Houses of Parliament, where the Lying-in-State will begin.
The procession will start at Buckingham Palace at 2:22pm.
It will proceed along The Mall, Horse Guards Road, across Horse Guards Parade and onto Whitehall to Parliament Square and into the Palace of Westminster.
Her Majesty The Queen will Lie-in-State at the Palace of Westminster until Monday 19 September. Members of the public may visit to pay their respects.
From the Court Circular
14 September 2022
Buckingham Palace
The Coffin bearing The late Queen was borne in State from Buckingham Palace this afternoon on a Gun Carriage of The King's Troop, Royal Horse Artillery, flanked by the Escort Party found by 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards, to travel to the Palace of Westminster to Lie-in-State in Westminster Hall.
The Coffin was followed by The King, The Prince of Wales, The Duke of Sussex, The Duke of York, The Earl of Wessex, The Princess Royal, Mr Peter Phillips, The Duke of Gloucester, The Earl of Snowdon and Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence.
Other Members of the Royal Family travelled separately.
The King and The Queen Consort, The Prince and Princess of Wales, The Duke and Duchess of Sussex, The Duke of York with Princess Beatrice, Mrs. Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi and Mr. Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi and Princess Eugenie, Mrs. Jack Brooksbank and Mr. Jack Brooksbank, The Earl and Countess of Wessex with The Lady Louise Mountbatten-Windsor and Viscount Severn, The Princess Royal and Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, Mr. Peter Phillips, Mr. and Mrs. Michael Tindall, The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, The Duke of Kent, Prince and Princess Michael of Kent, Princess Alexandra, the Hon. Lady Ogilvy and other Members of the Royal Family were received at the North Door of Westminster Hall by the Lord Great Chamberlain, the Lord Speaker and the Speaker.
The King and The Queen Consort and other Members of the Royal Family attended a Service for the Reception of the Coffin conducted by the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Dean of Westminster (the Very Reverend Dr. David Hoyle).
A Guard of Honour, found by The King's Guard with the State Colour, was formed up in front of Buckingham Palace.
A Guard of Honour found by the Royal Navy, the Army and the Royal Air Force, with the Band of the Royal Marines was formed up in Parliament Square.
His Majesty's Body Guard of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen at Arms and The King's Body Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard were on duty in the Palace of Westminster.
From Household Division website
At the stroke of 2:22pm this afternoon, Her Majesty The Queen’s coffin was carried in procession on a gun carriage of The King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Hall, where she will lie in state for four days ahead of her State Funeral on Monday 19 September 2022.
Before the procession set off, dismounted detachments of The Life Guards and The Blues and Royals of the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment formed up on the forecourt of Buckingham Palace, as a Guard of Honour formed from troops of 1st Battalion Coldstream Guards, with its State Colour draped, waited outside in the Queen’s Gardens.
The carriage, known as the George Gun Carriage and which carried King George VI’s coffin, was positioned in the Buckingham Palace Quadrangle with an escort party and a bearer party formed by The Queen’s Company 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards.
As the Commanding Officer of the Household Division, Major General Chris Ghika and his staff took up their positions in front of the gun carriage, the bearer party carried Her Majesty’s coffin from within Buckingham Palace to be placed on the gun carriage.
Leaving Buckingham Palace for the last time
At 2:22pm on the dot, guns were fired from Hyde Park by The King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery - one round every minute for the duration of the procession, meaning 38 rounds were fired. Simultaneously, Garrison Sergeant Major, Headquarters London District, WO1 Andrew Stokes, stepped off the procession.
Leading the procession out of Buckingham Palace and along The Mall was the dismounted detachment of The Life Guards of the Household Cavalry of more than 50 soldiers.
Following them were four key personnel: Silver Stick in Waiting Colonel Mark Berry (former Life Guards); Field Officer in Brigade Waiting, Lieutenant Colonel Gareth Light, Irish Guards; Brigade Major Household Division, Lieutenant Colonel James Shaw, Grenadier Guards and Aide-de-Camp to Major General Commanding the Household Division, Captain Jamie Roy.
Flanking the gun carriage were pall bearers, who had all been service equerries to The Queen, and the escort party and the bearer party drawn from The Queen’s Company, 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards.
Bringing up the rear of the procession, following His Majesty The King and members of the Royal Family, was a Blues and Royals marching detachment from The Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment.
The procession marched at a pace of 75 steps per minute, which is specifically reserved for funerals and ensures it keeps time with the slow pace of the gun carriage. Ordinarily troops would either do a slow march of 60 beats per minute, or a quick march of 110 beats per minute.
Arrival at Westminster Hall in the grounds of the Palace of Westminster
As Her Majesty arrived in Westminster, the coffin was carried in procession by a bearer party of The Queen’s Company, 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards from the gun carriage and placed on a raised platform, known as a catafalque, in Westminster Hall.
After a short service, the captain of The Queen’s Company 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards, assisted by a senior sergeant, laid The Queen’s Company Colour, the royal standard of the regiment, on the steps of the catafalque at the south end.
Lying In State and the Vigil
A continuous vigil will be kept by His Majesty’s Body Guard of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen at Arms, assisted at times by The King’s Body Guard for Scotland (The Royal Company of Archers), The King’s Body Guard of the Yeomen of the Guard, assisted by The Body of Yeomen Warders of HM Tower of London, and by units of the Household Division.
Those units will include: The Household Cavalry, the Grenadier Guards, the Coldstream Guards, the Scots Guards, the Irish Guards and the Welsh Guards. Each period of 24 hours will be divided into four watches. Except for the first and last, each of the 20 watches will last for 6 hours. Within each watch, a Vigil will last for 20 minutes.
More than 320 military personnel from all three services took part in this ceremonial activity, including 170 military personnel from The Household Division in the procession.
The Gun Carriage
The gun carriage is known as the George Gun Carriage and carried King George VI’s coffin from Sandringham Church to Wolferton Station in February 1952. It was also used in the funeral of The Queen Mother in 2002.
Royal Salutes
The King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery has six 13-pounder quick-fire guns, built between 1913 and 1918, all of which have seen active service in the First and Second World Wars. They are used regularly for royal salutes in Hyde Park, Green Park or Windsor Great Park for State Occasions and to mark royal anniversaries and royal birthdays. Each gun and limber weighs 1.5 tons and, with the team, is approximately 54 feet long.
Participating units, regiments and stations
Royal Marines
The King’s Troop Royal Horse Artillery
The Household Cavalry
Grenadier Guards
Coldstream Guards
Scots Guards
Welsh Guards
Album title: Lies/White Lies
Artist: Claps
Label: Forward Records
Year: 2013
Catalog Number/Other Info: FR015, blue vinyl with black and white swirl, only pressed on one side.
Taken by Cory Funk.
Target muscle:
Erector Spinae
Instructions
Preparation
Lie on back place hands behind head bend hips and knees bent to 90 degrees.
Execution
Roll knees over to ground keeping them together with the upper knee over the lower knee.
Variation
Roll one knee over to the ground and pull down gently with one hand. Leave the other leg relaxed and on the ground.
For more exercises visit www.bodyimpress.com
White Lies, NME Awards Tour 09
Sheffield Academy, Sheffield
03/02/09
For permission to use any images in any form outside of this website, including publishing and public display, you must have express written permission.
Please contact me at the address given on the contact page. all photographs, images and content © Brendan Docherty 2008. All rights reserved.
29/1/10 - Stop the War Demonstration, QEII Conference Centre, London. Former Prime Minister Tony Blair answered questions from the Chilcot Inquiry into the Iraq War, in the face of a demonstration by Stop The War, determined that he face charges of war crimes.
Lie on lie on lie are the solid bricks of your house.
You lie within your fortress surrounded by the truth of your lies.
Your thoughts enfleshed in lies are ablaze in the fire of the father of lies.
His tones are soft and desirable, and his voice is sweet in encouragement.
For him you glorify the lie and give life to the dead.
You consort with lies, research in lies and philosophise on lies;
You feast on lies, bed with lies and impregnate lies with lies.
The giver of lies glorifies your lie, and gives your lie the status of truth.
Your lie has become truth, so the Truth has become a lie.
You lie in embrace with a lie, burning for everything that is a lie.
In the external and the temporary lies the truth of your lies.
You delight in that which decays, and worship the beauty that fades.
You are blinded to the Beauty from which all beauty proceeds,
You see not His truth, and love not His face.
You spurn his correction, and despise all that is correct.
You see not the glamour of your lie in the dullness of His Truth.
- Samuel Godfrey George
.
THE OUTSIDER (PART NINE FINALE)
SOME SAY TRUTH IS HARDER THAN LIES
.
Have you ever noticed how a story, no matter how uncomplicated, becomes bigger and bolder as it passes from mouth to ears along a chain, crossing borders, strolling through towns and navigating frontiers, until it reaches the mouths and ears of subsequent generations. I wonder if my story will ever be told, to live on in the annals of history, a growing legend ever more elaborate and violent. Something tells me that the truth of the matter is a little less romantic than such notions of fancy, and just like my bones, my story will be blown away by the winds of time. But you are still journeying with me, awaiting the conclusion of my tale of retribution and mayhem, awaiting my fate just as I do.
I guess you could say that the end has finally come for me, and doubtless none too many of you who read my sorry tale of woe will shed a tear for the passing of one so cruel and heartless, no matter the fact that he saw the error of his ways and tried to change. I guess the old saying stands true this day, once a gun slinger always aa gun slingernd maybe tryin' to run from the reality of your standing in this life is as shallow and futile as runing from a rain cloud as the thunder clap strikes overhead, when in the end, it'll get you by it's very nature. For the killin's I committed there can be no excuses, no vindication, even though some of them sons of desert snakes got what they deserved, and now I face the moment of my death as so many have at my own hands. I wonder, can a man really hope to change his ways when a lifetime of blood and fists have shaped the very pathway on which he treads. Can a black soul truly see the light? Can a broken heart mend? Do we pay a penance for all eternity for sins omitted in this mortal life? If I had the answers to all or any of those questions, I would surely have laid down my guns long ago in exchange for paying crowds waiting on my every breath.
With Frank Curtis screaming in a world full of pain and lyin' in a river of his own blood, and the town doctor powerless to help the dying man, I feel a certain sense of satisfaction as my own life passes before me. My eyes are blurred now, and mind kinda fuzzy as recollections, fact and fiction guide me on a one way ticket to oblivion. Somewhat spoiling the ambiance of the moment, I feel the sharp connection between scuffed leather and the bones of my face as a hired hand plants a boot in the centre of my skull. Head against the wooden wheel, with neither room to move nor chance to brace against the full impact, my nose cracks like dry timber as it shatters under the pressure though strangely only the inconvenience of a faint stinging sensation troubles my dying seconds. I guess I'm beyond pain now as the cold barrel of a handgun sits three inches from my temple. My nose busted and open, blood spewing from the gaping wound like a waterfall in spring. A shaking hand thumbs the hammer as it clicks back into place with a definite resonance, my mind slipping into black and white for the very last time, slow motion as images dance like pretty town girls across my mind.
The doctor, all fingers and thumbs, a barrel of nerves as he fights a lost cause and bows to the inevitable, rises to his feet and pulls his spectacles from his nose, rubbing them incessantly on his shirt to clean the blood spatter away. His bearded skin turns grey as he gestures to the last men standing that their beloved boss is about to dance with the Devil, and he backs away slowly towards the undertaker who has emerged like a spider from it's lair to ascertain the gravity of the situation and ready a wooden box and a mound of earth. Such is the way of life and death in the West. As Curtis breathes his last breath, my revenge is complete and through a hazy fog of dreamlike delirium I swear I can see Elizabeth, Zac and Eli running towards me across a cornfield lush and yellow. Now ain't that just the cutest of sights, hell I must dreamin' again. I gurgle and smile, arms involuntarily stretching out as in the distance, on a tall hill there sits Grey Wolf of the Cheyenne, resplendent in al his Injun finery and daubed facial paint, atop a proud looking Wa Ka Liva who nods his head and stamps a hoof defiantly into the ground. No longer lame, and the years have shed to back in the days when he was strong and oh so beautiful. I do believe I may have a tear pooling in my eye, or maybe it's just the dust as I sit here, I don't know.
In and out of consciousness, I catch a glimpse of the kid's face who holds the ridiculously shiny forty five to my head, a bag of tremblin' nerves, affeared of the kill, gulping for air and looking around him all the while for guidance, though in truth most of the fellas he be lookin' for guidance from now lie dead all around him like dogs in a yard. You gotta hand it it to me, single shot kills all and every one of 'em, the stuff of camp-fire legend if I do say so myself. Memories flood back to my tortured mind, of that first face, the look in the eyes of the boy I killed in his ill fitting Confederate uniform on the battlefield in the great war. No more'n thirty years reached between the two of us, spouting rhetoric we little understood, fighting for principles we couldn't even spell. Families divided, brother on brother, murdering for a bunch of ideals and a handful of glory. When I shot that boy, barely recognising his dirty skin and red eyes of angry blood-lust as those of my own cousin, I unleashed forces beyond my control, and embarked upon a journey of self destruction towards the very gates of oblivion at which I now find myself standing. Killin' is killin' and blood is blood, and the false hopes and shallow deceit of war don't make it any easier to swallow. Except that in my case, I lived for the kill. The moment when the eyes of your victim glaze to a hazy white and the life done drained clean outta them, the actual second when you can see and feel their soul rise right outta their bones and drift slowly onwards to wherever it's final destination lies. To me, a form of poetry. That really does you in, don't it? That a man could enjoy killin' so. When the town preachers tells us of the precious gift of life, all the while they live in the shadow of the gun and the pockets of the corrupt who run the place. Well, I ain't lied to you so far, and I ain't about to start now.
Perhaps I haven't been quite honest with you throughout my story, and maybe for getting this far with me, I owe you the truth, seein' as I'm about to die and all. See, if you're still searching for a reason for me to have turned out the way I did, if you're thinking that my upbringing had a part to play in the debauchery of my miserable life, then I guess you'd be right, though it pains me to say. A twelve year old boy fed up to the gut with a drunken father's beatings, and a mother who turned a blind eye for fear of her own life, attending church every Sunday with a swollen face and pride, placing money in the box and smiling at the preacher who turned a blind eye on account of my daddy's social standing in the town and the money he donated to church causes, and my mom still believing in the good in even the blackest of souls. And my father lived a life of two men, the one that the townsfolk new and loved, and the real man behind the mask. Tommy lee, my bestest friend when I was no more'n a nipper, well, Tommy lee was me. And his father was mine. In truth I never had no friends from my childhood, just running from the beatings my papa gave me when he wasn't running the saloon bar and acting all fancy with the townsfolk. I killed that son of a bitch one day when I found him standing over my mamma's bruised and bloodied body, laughing at her and finding amusement in her crumpled body as she cowered like a little child. He calmly turned around and told me:
" You gotta learn from this son. They will test you some, and they will push you to your limits unless you show them who is the boss, who decides what is right and what is wrong. You gotta be strong, and beat the bad right outta their hides ". Something inside'a me snapped and years of abuse at the hands of a monster came to a violent head. My mamma tried to apologise and took a hold of his bleeding hand which had inflicted so much hurt and pain, and for her efforts he began punching her with his fists, like she was a genuine threat when the reality of the situation was a woman with a kind heart the likes of which you cannot imagine. That cut me inside for all the lies she'd told to cover his guilt. I hit him with a shovel, stone cold knocked him unconscious with the first strike, though the blows continued until I was exhausted of limbs and I could no longer see nor recognise that bastards facial features. Taking his gun, it took all of my strength to cock the hammer, and fire. It was then that, for the first time in my life I truly saw a person's life fade away before me, and after that it was never so hard to kill again. And my mother, God rest her sadly deluded soul, cried at his burial and mourned his loss like a dutiful wife aoghtta, as I fled to the comforts of the civil war and violent ways which would shape my life forever more. There, now you know. Once you've killed yer own kin, a line has been crossed and there ain't no goin' back, ever. I never saw my ma again, using the civil war as cover to disappear and start a new life away from my past. I sent her money once I was earning for my violent ways, and I visited her grave where she was laid to rest next the rotting corpse of the man she still loved, the man she had always loved. Ain't that the darnedest thing you've heard? I guess I'll never understand women.
Grey wolf taught me that death was an end to life on this earth, and yet the start of life for the soul in whatever was the next world inhabited by spirits, and that the journey would be long and painful, as the soul moves Westwards along the sky path for those who have not lived a decent and righteous life. And here I am, a lifetime of sin and no prayer feathers to tie around my forehead, no yucca suds to bathe my flesh, no belongings other than my guns and the pocket watch I gave my eldest boy, no feathered prayer sticks. I look up at the kids face again, standing over me with his gun poised to put me out of my misery. Can you God damn believe it, I ain''t even got the chance to tell how I was put out of everyone else's misery by a mean son of a bitch from the hallowed legends of the wild west. I'm going to be snuffed out by a pimple faced nobody who's just about to piss his own britches on account of me being his first kilin'. Life just ain't fair now, is it? I try to lift my head and look at the kid. “ You just gotta believe in yourself boy, and squeeze that old trigger slow and gentle, like gently touching the skin on a lady. You've been with a lady haven't you boy”. He nods his head and swallows hard. He pulls his left hand round to cup the gun and steady his nerves, the barrel swinging in the breeze enough to completely miss me should he thumb that ole' trigger any time soon. I can see the impact as the trigger is pulled and the hammer strikes the shell, a flash of light igniting in the barrel as the bullet is propelled at breakneck speed. It slices through my skull, but I feel no pain. Muffled voices sound in my ears as the bullet ricochets inside my brain. My vision deserts me, replaced by a light that grows in strength and brightness, brilliant white as a soothing feeling washes over my body and I'm left standing in that cornfield with Elizabeth walking towards me. I reach out and for the first time make contact with her, able to feel her warmth, her skin and bones against mine as we embrace and kiss. She smells so sweet and fragrant, just like she always did, just like I remember.
Can a man be forgiven for the deeds of a life lived on the dark side of what's right? I truly thought I could walk away from my sins, to begin afresh and bathe in the love I shared with my family. I guess in the end we all have to pay the price, we're all accountable, and I can't expect forgiveness for what I've done. As the light burns my eyes, Wa Ka Liva strides towards me and bows his beautiful head as I climb up into the welcome leather of my favourite saddle. Gently taking the reins, I pull to the left and we are back home on the ranch, Grey wolf and my sons on the distant hill. My horse and I gallop together, roping cattle and stirring up the dust.
I am home now, I am free and my kin and me will be together always.
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THE END OF 'THE OUTSIDER'
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Written January 6th 2009
Photograph taken on the Halaupai ranch on the West rim of the Grand Canyon, Arizona, USA on September 24th 2008
NIKON D300 50mm 1/250s f/5.6 iso200
Nikkor AF-S 18-135mm f/3.5-5.6G ED IF. UV filter
Prizegiving ceremony for the WDM Grand Prix Freestyle presented by
VIAN GROUP. Mykhaylo Parkhomchuk, show president and director
of Vian Group, Camil Smeulders, managing director WDM, Hans
Peter Minderhoud (2nd), Tommie Visser (1st), Inna Logutenkova (3rd),
Iuliia Parkhomenko, event director and Ghislain Fouarge, president
of the jury.