View allAll Photos Tagged memory
Memories are the treasures that we keep locked deep within the storehouse of our souls, to keep our hearts warm when we are lonely
A moment of gathering the beloved ones, with a stream of memorable photos, kindled a flash of memories.... to sit and listen to the elders explaining every photo and feeling the stories hidden in every moment.... with a lot of laughs and surprises to see themselves when they were kids... remembering the grandparents that left a deep impact in every heart came after them.... missing them.... and telling about them....
After Ma found a treasure, a bag of memories, photos from the 50s and 60s, we were like living in a time-capsule yesterday, with my aunt that came to visit us for two days, they both started to tell about the photos... the time, the place, the people gathered then, their activities, favorite games, their cloths and hair styles.... and they laugh.... and I was so fascinated to see them so happy and as if they have returned kids again.... learning from that affluence of memories....
Remembering the past... watching the present.... imagining the future... a bridge among the generations, at every station there is a stream of knowledge and wisdom, with laughs and cheerfulness and experiences... what would the next generations get for memories?.... I’m taking photos from now :)
Life is Beautiful ♥... Richen your lives with memories.... Camera is one of the greatest inventions in history!! :))
Io sono figlia di un parrucchiere che ha tenuto un negozio a Napoli, in una zona ben frequentata per 50 lunghissimi anni e per di più di fronte ad un altro notissimo coiffeur.
Ma a mio padre le clienti non mancavano, eppure lui era un musone, parlava poco e niente, se aveva un'idea nel suo lavoro non la cambiava e non era affatto una persona malleabile e gli piaceva lavorare in libertà, gli piaceva sperimentare la sua arte e secondo me aveva un gran senso dell'estetica. Era non a caso anche un bravo pittore e fotografo.
Oggi il mio parrucchiere che sa io sono figlia di un suo collega, mi ha presa in giro perché per fare un taglio aveva diviso la testa della cliente in zone con treccine. Signora Pastore vostro padre se mi vedesse direbbe a che ce simm ridotti? Dividiamo la testa in zone per tagliare?
È vero. Mio padre come tutti i parrucchieri del suo tempo tagliava ad occhio, senza bisogno di progettare il taglio. Zac, zac, zac e via. Sempre tagli perfetti, senza sforbiciate, armonici.
Senza tecniche ma solo estro.
Ho visto questa "pupa" nel suo retrobottega, mi sono commossa.
Papà mio se le portava a casa queste testine e preparava le parrucche alle clienti che ne avevano bisogno.
E oggi era là, l'ho fotografata perché volevo farla vedere a mia sorella Francesca Pastore
Checca te le ricordi messe lì in cucina? Ti ricordi che ci facevano impressione?
Ah caro papà quanto ti abbiamo amato, ecco oggi lo vediamo fortissimamente.
Mother, looking at family photos, and enjoying the distant memories they brought back. Moment captured January 28th, 2015 in Beloit, Wisconsin; USA.
Wanted to get out with the tent tonight but it was a little blowy and the tent is sadly lacking in the guy rope department.
I took the real memory out of its frame and replaced it with black cardboard. Framed up and waited for it to get dark.
Span the dome then lit the scene with my torch. Lastly a quick waft of the net curtain and rgb torch for a touch of fire.
This is number 119 of my 365.
Memories are all that are left now. Buried just beneath our surface, but sometimes when we don't expect it, certain smells, sights, cards, old letters will trigger memories and i think of what was.
But those special memories will live on inside me for as long as I can draw a breath.
Here's to cherish memories...
June 28th I start my solo "walkabout". My I discover new memories to cherish.
When I was growing up, my mother always planted a particular flower for us; there were roses for my sister...her second name was Rosalie, Jasmine for my brother as his birthday was around the time these bloomed and she always planted Allysum for me as Alys is my second name.
Funny how seeing a flower can bring back special memories:)
Memories...
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I am the proud owner of this lovelt felt gingerbread garland made by Cozy Memories. I love it! Thank you Sonia :o)
صراع مع النفس //
يجب على الانسان تحديد اهدافة واعمالة ولن يحبط عند الفشل للوصول الى هدف ..
وإن كان الفشل ضعف ..
"بارادتك ايها الانسان تستطيع تحويل الفشل الى نجاح والضعف الى قوة
لاتدخل في متاهات التشاؤم ..فـسوف تصبح في دوامة التشكيك بالنفس الى الوصول الى حالة ..فقد الثقة !
كل الصعاب .. حجر اساسها يكون .. في ثقة الانسان بنفسة. وقدرتك ايها الانسان لـ مسك زمام الأمور
- لاتضعف عند موقف وتتجة الى التفكير بتغير اطباع جميلة وحسنة بسبب موقف او مشكلة..
وتترك سفينة النفس دون قائد ..
ولا تشكك بنفسك إن قرأت الصواب في عقلك.. ولاتستشير او تتأثر الا..
باصحاب التفكير الراجح ..
من كتاباتي القديمة ..
==
Canon 450D
Lens 100mm
“The worst part of holding the memories is not the pain. It's the loneliness of it. Memories need to be shared.”
― Lois Lowry, The Giver
You can shed tears that she is gone,
or you can smile because she has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what she'd want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
I took this photo a Brooke Shaden's storytelling workshop in January 2012. I have really struggled with this photo, primarily because I back lit Olivia. I can't count the number of times I've lightened this.
I think I'm finally satisfied with it and the story I found myself telling myself over and over is this: the viewer is perhaps the surviving fiance, years later, catching a glimpse of his beloved in the house they were supposed to live in happily til they were old.
I grew up in a haunted house in a historic town. I've never found myself to like ghost stories because the modern take on them is too harsh and weird. However, one of my favorite books is a ghost story called Tamsin by Peter S. Beagle. The feel of the story, how real yet how so far away it seems, is what I love and what I hoped to portray here, as well as the feeling that what you're seeing will be gone in a moment.
Terry Hutt, who is often described as the Royal Family’s biggest fan, pictured in his home in the South West surrounded by memories and memorabilia. Taken during an interview with Terry.
Remember the day that we first met
The reason and the start of our kismet
We’re both strangers and not interested
But now, I’m your dearly beloved!
7 JULY® :
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