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Memories of my primary school, 1982 when I was in Grade III. This is St. Mary's Convent School, Tumkur City, Karnataka state, India.
Every time we meet someone new, we have a chance to retroactively reinvent ourselves. We tell them stories... what our childhoods were like; how we were in our teens; how we landed (or lost) our first jobs, our first loves... and, each time it happens... depending on the audience... we might just trim or tuck or embroider or completely leave out certain facts.
I know a woman who denies (to her partner) her entire 1980s experience. One day I was visiting and started to tell a hilarious story... which I'd just assumed she had shared with her partner... and suddenly, there she was, standing behind him... waving her arms at me, shaking her head and mouthing 'NO NO NO!!!' Later she explained that she found that whole era of her life terribly embarrassing and chose to just pretend - to herself as well as him - that it simply never happened. An entire decade.
This same woman regularly purges her belongings - clothing, furniture, music, books - to eliminate anything that does not currently fit her identity-du-jour. Essentially, she doesn't like to make "mistakes" - and so prefers to act as though they simply never happened.
I have another friend who does exactly the opposite - believes that his "mistakes" are to be treasured, kept and learned from. He quite happily hauls out pics of his bad 80s hair and even worse outfits and... even when they blow goats... keeps (and listens to!) the worst CDs... just because he bought them.
They're two extreme examples, I suppose. Most of us are probably somewhere in between.
But... memory being imperfect and subjective... I bet we'd all be surprised to see real-time tapes of certain parts of our pasts played back.
I'm writing this now because this pic strikes me as a representation of memory... its layers and levels and complexities... some parts soft and vague and fuzzy... some etched sharply... some aloft... others dark, deep and - ultimately - impenetrable.
Also... like this pic... they have no real objective form. They only exist in the mind and the eye.
Found an odd slide reverser in my box of tricks. Appears to be something someone gave me a while ago. It's basically a tube of a certain length, with no lenses inside, but a M42 screw mount. You place your slides at the front, and hold it up against a light source, and snap your repro.
I found some dirty glass slides inside the box and so whacked some old negatives between them, and mounted it onto the 350D via a standard EOS->M42 adapter, and this was the result. Shot of my old uni gf. Really works well in illustrating the 'old memories' quality of this photo :)
We were meant to do a MOC for a contest at Comunidade 0937 to celebrate it's 10th birthday.
So I did a memory book to keep things registered. This one features an important mark for the LUG it was the Fan Weekend at Paredes de Coura and also a party, one of the coolest nights I've had in a long time.
Vídeo Here: www.flickr.com/photos/88457810@N05/28872382300/in/datepos...
In memory of my son M/Sgt Thomas Allen Biddle.
Dec 6, 1972-Dec 6, 2011
Taken from me in a very tragic way!
Betws y coed coach park on September 18th 2014 with Memory Lane's imposing Volvo B13R Van Hool TX parked alongside an M & H Coaches Mercedes Benz Touro.
Memory cross near the village "Berg" (literally: "mountain") on Lake Starnberg (Starnberger See), 25 kilometers southwest of Munich. It is Germany's fifth largest freshwater lake and, due to its large average depth (max. depth 127,7m), the second richest in water.
This is the place where King Ludwig II of Bavaria died under mysterious circumstances on June 13, 1886. The bodies of both the King and Dr. von Gudden were found floating in the shallow water near the shore.
Seeking a cause to depose Ludwig by constitutional means, rebelling ministers decided on the rationale that he was mentally ill, and unable to rule. The report declared in its final sentences that the king suffered from paranoia, and concluded, "Suffering from such a disorder, freedom of action can no longer be allowed and Your Majesty is declared incapable of ruling, which incapacity will be not only for a year's duration, but for the length of Your Majesty's life." The men had never met the king except Gudden once twelve years ago, nor examined him. On June 10, 1886, a government commission including von Gudden arrived at Neuschwanstein Castle to formally deliver the document of deposition to the king and place him in custody. Ludwig was transported to Castle Berg on the shores of Lake Starnberg.
Ludwig's death was officially ruled a suicide by drowning, but this has been questioned. Ludwig was known to be a strong swimmer in his youth, the water was less than waist-deep where his body was found, and the official autopsy report indicated that no water was found in his lungs. Ludwig had expressed suicidal feelings during the crisis, but the suicide theory does not fully explain Gudden's death. Gudden's body showed signs of strangulation and of a struggle, leading to the suspicion that he was strangled to death by Ludwig. Many hold that Ludwig was murdered by his enemies while attempting to escape from Berg. One account suggests that the king was shot. Another theory suggests that Ludwig died of natural causes (such as a heart attack or stroke) brought on by the extreme cold (12°C) of the lake during an escape attempt.
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Gedenkkreuz in Berg am Starnberger See. Dieses Kreuz bezeichnet die Stelle, an der König Ludwig II. und Dr. von Gudden am 13. Juni 1886 unter mysteriösen Umständen tot aufgefunden wurden. Nähere Informationen zu König Ludwig und seine Sterbeumstände in wikipedia.
Früher wurde die Stelle durch ein Fähnchen im See gekennzeichnet. Von der Vereinigung "Ludwig II. - Deine Treuen" wurde im November 1918 ein eisernes Gedenkkreuz errichtet und gepflegt, das zuletzt 1986 durch ein Teakholzkreuz erneuert wurde.
best large
Many have spent lives here, their sweat on the walls, their breath still in the air. Their life, their lifes work, left to slowly decay, to be vandalized. Left for ruin. What does it all amount to in the end? A false memory? even those die out.
An old grain mill in Waterloo.
"Memory Bottle" by Mayumi Kuri, as part of the Setouchi International Art Festival. Ogijima island, Japan.
This memory jug was made by my aunt Jane. Read more about it here: www.weareheavyduty.com/2009/08/09/jane-sigler-burckard-me...
In memory of two beloved cousins that died one month apart...
Joseph "Joe" on 1-10-2014 and James "Jim" on 2-10-2014...
Both very precious men that gave so much to all they knew
and were bigger than life themselves... smiles, laughter, love,
and memories... thank you both for what you gave to us and
for the sweet precious memories that we now cling to forever!!!
Love you both always and continue to pray for our hurting families!!!
So thankful that one day the family will have a grand heavenly reunion!!!
The tide recedes, but leaves behind bright seashells on the sand.
The sun goes down, but gentle warmth still lingers in the land,
The music stops, and yet it echoes on in sweet refrains...
For every joy that passes, something beautiful remains.
(My Old School Memories)
poetry source: www.dennydavis.net/poemfiles/mmrypoem.htm
Albuns de fotos da minha vó ..Gosto muito de ver a história da minha familia aqui e pretendo preservá-la....
At about 10:30 p.m. on a Monday night, I decided to go to the Great Salt Lake and take some long exposures. I parked behind Saltaire and walked out to the lake with my mini-maglite in hand to show me the way.
Being out at the lake at night is a surreal experience. The lake was an abyss, the stars only able to break through the darkness at about 35 degrees above the water. The gentle lapping of a dead sea and the sporadic call of a lonely gull muted by the constant hum from the freeway behind me.
Swarms of brine flies scattered as I walked along the shore, they're irritated buzzing fading back to silence as I find the water's edge.
The lack of visual and audible stimulation really made me feel small and isolated. Searching for a sense of direction I look up into the milky way. I find the depth of the universe above me dizzying.
My gaze turns again, blindly, to the sea. I can feel its mystery calling me, pulling me out into its depths. Turning back to the lights of the freeway my thoughts return to lucidity, but I cannot seem to stop staring out into the blank, my imagination going wild with visions of ghosts upon the waters.
Soon I feel that I should go, leave this place of darkness, water, and brine. I bid my farewell to the lonely gull, the flies, and the ghosts. Walking briskly back to my truck no longer needing my maglite, my eyes grown accustom to the dark.
As I drive home I feel like a petty thief having just stolen the exposures crudely stuck in my camera from the ancients. I don't know when I will be back to the lake, but I feel that I will not return a stranger.
This photo was made with nine 30 second exposures, stacked in PhotoShop layers with a screen blending mode.
The light streaking across the photo is an airplane.
The cheese in this post did not come from a can.
I was going through photo files and came across this photo of Queen's last foal born in April of 2013. They named this colt Lieutenant and he was about two or three days old here if memory serves me right.
We'd gone out to see the new colt and take photos of him , Queen, Freddy Mac...in background and went out there often to follow this colts growth.
Freddy Mac ( sadly) was sold that summer and this foal would be our last photo shoot of a foal at the draft horse farm.
As you can see Mike was smiling and laughing at the antics of this very young colt .
At this time it seemed like all was good....
Queen was bred again that summer and the following year she carried the foal to term however in the birthing .....Queen's foal was twisted and they lost both the mare and foal. Queen over the years had birthed many foals....mostly colts but one filly he sold. Her name was Fanny Mae and a year older then her half brother Freddy Mac. Fanny Mae was sweet and beautifully marked but she was sold when she was going on three years old.
It's January 2017......three years now.....and one holds on to the memories as they last forever.
I remember this day as if it was yesterday and the fun and joy we shared with each years new foal at the farm.
Taken and Editing by: Me
Model: some of Old Memories ^_^ .
i used newspaper background :P
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Bano0ota_alb7rain © All rights reserved
Please don't use this photo in anyway without permission
In Memory
What was it you had said?
Why did you have to go?
Each simple little memory
Now passes by so slow.
I am stuck in the yesterday
Not wanting to accept
The horrid truth that you are gone
Your life taken without threat
This morning you awoke
To face a brand new day
But a cold-hearted terrorist
Took that gift away
Though the grave cry for the lost
In the settling of the dust
They failed to shake our foundation
For in God we put our trust.
Michelle Lynn McPeters
Off work tomorrow so see you all then
Torside. A gran driving with the grandpa at the wheel. A burger van on the weekends, ketchup, onions, and mustard, grease stained napkin, with ice cream, mint, and tea for the grandparents. A ten year old puppy, giddy on the country air. A stroll attempting to keep dog under control dodging pony trekkers and cyclists and other dogs of equal excitement. Tongues out, tails wagging. Trees wrapped in individual fences, and benches of dedication. Crunching leaves in the Autumn, cracking mud in the Summer, remember the hiking boots in the Winter. 'HEEL' dog gets over excited at baby buggies. Bright eyed and bushy tailed. Gunshots to the west, clay pigeon shooting. Fresh air. Smiles and waves from the grandparents...
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose
Who needs poetry when you have the wonder years
For George, Gran and Cassie...
Sculpture called "Memories" (Swedish: Minnen) made in wood in 2014 by Jan Järlehed, Sweden.
Contemporary sculptures in a pre-historic landscape. Exhibition in 2014, Pilane, Sweden. When the British newspaper The Guardian appointed "10 of the best scupture parks in Europe", Pilane was one of them.
www.pilane.org/en/index.php (website also in English)
This is one of the few souvenirs I bought at Alcatraz Island outside of San Francisco when I visited the notorious prison earlier this year.