View allAll Photos Tagged memory
Painting, acrylics on wood. Background: Wanted to paint this for some time. Got the idea on a warm and calm summer day when I took a photo of my son, and the sea and the sky just seemed to blend together and it was not possible to see where one ended and one started.
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
Hazy Italian sunset.
Copyrighted and All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized use, copy, display,
or distribution of any photographs by or of Stefano Carini Photography is strictly prohibited.
You do not have permission to use this photo in any form without the written consent of Stefano Carini.
©2010 Stefano Carini Photography
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.
model: Gloria Ephebe
Please don't use this image on Websites, Blogs or other Media without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved - FYEphoto.com - www.facebook.com/FYEphoto
Hasselblad 503CX | Carl Zeiss CF T* 80mm f/2.8 | Fuji Pro 160NS
Paris - Mars 2014
My friend Nadeem handed me his Hasselblad for a few hours when we met in Paris, be sure to check his work here : Nadeem Karim
--
© This photograph is copyrighted. Under no circumstances can it be reproduced, distributed, modified, copied, posted to websites or printed or published in media or other medium or used for commercial or other uses without the prior written consent and permission of the photographer.
Tugboats in Port Kembla Harbour.
This one is a sentimental subject for me. My wonderful dad worked here in the harbour and was a tugmaster throughout most of my life until he retired not so long ago. I have fond memories of him letting me take hold of the huge wooden wheel to steer, doing figure eights in the middle of the harbour and poor Dad getting told off by the harbour master who must have thought he was drunk LOL.
The wheelhouse had a sign on the outside which read "Chartroom and Wheelhouse" (there was a big surface there with drawers for charts underneath) and I always read it as Chatroom and thought it funny. Whats weird is there was no such thing as a Chatroom back in those rosy pre internet days. I also used to love going down to the engine room. The noise, the heat, all those funny little ladders to clamber about on and the smell of oil. Brilliant. I don't suppose the current tugmasters can take their kids on the tugs due to OH&S requirements and legal red tape run rampant. I feel sorry for those children because they are missing out on something very special.
Even the wharves are no longer accessible to the public :(. They used to be dotted with eager fishermen.
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission.
© All rights reserved
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.
A friend's pic, taken in 2009.
This is the first boxcar I ever rode, on the first train I ever rode. Oh, how I've come so far since then.
Fuck.
Ghadames, an oasis town, lies roughly 462 kilometres to the southwest of Tripoli, near the borders with Algeria and Tunisia. It has been declared a Unesco World Heritage site.
“Yesterday is but today's memory, tomorrow is today's dream.”
- Kahlil Gibran-
♪♫ ODYSSEY - Masih Ada ♪♫
Memories
All I have is memories
All I have is memories
Memories of you
Now you're gone
They linger on, these memories
All these precious memories
Memories of you
How they linger in the twilight
In the morning in the small hours
Just before dawn
Memories
Of summer days so long ago
People in the places
That we used to know
Oh those memories
How they linger in the twilight
And in the wee small hours
Sometime just before the dawn
Oh those memories
Oh happy times those memories
All I have now is memories
Memories of you
Oh memories
All those precious memories
All I have is memories
Memories of you
--Van Morrison--
For Helen, my daughter and Kellie, Dan and Joe, my grandchildren.
Gone, but not forgotten
This pain, I cannot hide
In memory, I see you
A million tears, I've cried.
The tender thoughts you left me
Come to my memory
Your loving smiles, so precious
Will always be with me.
You visit me in summer
When flowers are in bloom
Upon a ray of sunshine
A star-lit night in June.
When winds are gently blowing
Across a cloudless sky
Within a rolling meadow
Where horse and cattle lie.
I see you in the treetops
As summer comes to be
In shadows, you do linger
Souls so young and free.
I see you in the garden
Your scent does fill the air
Just like a precious flower
A rose, so ever fair.
On country roads, I find you
Along the wooded lane
Within the distant thunder
I see you in the rain.
In early hush of morning
You come without a sound
Upon a blazing sunset
Your memory can be found.
Like sprigs of morning glory
Upon the vine, they grow
With branches reaching outward
Into my heart, you go.
But often, I still see you
Upon a light blue sky
And long so much to hold you
Why did you have to die?
This image takes me back to a memorable holiday in the South East Hinterland, at O'Reilly's Guest House. My choice of accommodation was in an old Queenslander, very similar to the one you see in the photograph. One day we were 'confined to quarters' due to heavy rain. It had its benefits however. Picture this scenario if you would. Sitting on the verandah in a comfortable old chair, cup of hot chocolate in hand, feet up on the railing, with the raindrops tickling one's toes. Heaven. Verandahs also hold special memories of my childhood in Papua New Guinea. But that's another story.