View allAll Photos Tagged memory
This angel is actually a wedding gift from a friend. My friends hoped we would start a tradition by having this on the top of our tree. We were married in 1987.
created using www.picnik.com/
It's those memories we cannot keep.
Those that fade away at the touch of light,
and resurface again and again, in our mind, night after night.
They are the feelings.
The touch.
The sound.
The look.
The look that she gave him.
And the look that he gave to her.
In those rooms with shadowy drapes,
the halls with frameless pictures,
those sheets damped with longing,
he remembers, and she forgets.
It's that vase filled with promises, broken.
It's that time frozen, shattered.
It's that flower, lived, and withered.
They are the moments we cannot forget.
The ones that we so easily leave behind,
yet find them imprinted in our souls, burnt into the bones.
A piece of sheet music my dear sweet Mammaw tried to teach me to play... She could play the piano beautifully... Going to see if I can remember how to play this one... I was probably around 7 then, so, it has been a while... A 'little' while... :-)
Memories
My love for memories is so great,
My heart melts. I think of them 'til sunset each day.
The night dreaming of the past when I lived my childhood days.
These days are so far away. In my distant past.
Hugging, helping. Mommy playing with me each day.
The beauty is great,
Wondering my mind, I dream every minute every day.,
Wondering is all I do,
While waiting for the moment. Dreams say stop dwelling on the
far away past.
My passion for my dreams is so vast.
My heart beats strong and fast.
My dreams are with me 'til the twilight hues of dusk each day.
I give love to my dreams every moment of every day.
The night needs me to dream my dreams.
When seeing my dreams. I look 'til day's sunrise.
The beauty is so great,
Wondering mind 'til I see,
Running is all I do,
While waiting for the moment, for they to say "I will do."
시인 론
Ron Chapman
May 31 2013
ronchap3@gmail.com
this is my participation to a great book project called Memories and curated by Garrick Webster.
"Best of all, when you buy, the entire cover price will be donated Maggie’s Cancer Caring Centres. The charity helps hundreds of cancer victims and their families every day, and each centre fosters an atmosphere of understanding, support and creativity."
It gathers a lot of gifted contributors making a mix of texts and illustrations around cancer.
You can pre-order it here.
Old memories coming to my mind... old memories coming through my reflection...
Portugal - Octubre 2011.
This is a Core Memory board. I have to determine which computer this came from. I'm hoping I can find a manual. Then with some luck and hacking I can interface this to my homebrew PDP-8
A memory stick. Small and very practical. These little devices are shaping the way that computer information can be stored and more importantly transported without using a network or other type of internet connection.
This one i managed to blow, so no longer worked, however, i did purchase one of the first memory sticks when i was back at college in 2002. A 16MB card cost me £70 and at that time, it was cheap! The only ones that i own now are the ones that i have found or borrowed off friends, that i find cheaper!
Taken again with my old camera, it was one of my first practises with Macro Photography. i had to manually set the focal distance, then get the object to where i though the focal point would be. I used an A3 sheet of paper rolled up like a portrait train so that i had a continous background. This then left the main focal on the memory card itself.
A011010540
"She wore a mask so often she mistook it for her face. The cool curvatures of plastic sinking into her cheekbones became her own form of comfort so much that the familiarity of another’s features soothed her to sleep. But in her slumber she refused to dream, for only nightmares came and in those dreams she saw herself, felt the bags underneath her eyes forming dark circles like shadows around the moon, her chest caving in at the idea she could not bear to face her realities in her fantasies, so she walked in an unconscious haze to the fields where she grew up as if to convince herself that she was on another timeline, a different dimension from the one she was living in. A limbo that could hold her in an abyss she could not wake from, and in this darkness she felt home for there were no reflections without light, and she slowly forgot about the lost girl within herself, her body rejected who she was in entirety. Entranced by oblivion she could not decipher if she was awake with her eyes closed or so deep in her conscious that it had collapsed in on her memory, distorting her perception on actuality itself. She wandered aimlessly through flowers and weeds, and like her mind they grew wild and feral, contorting and twisting like the strands of her sanity, branching off into delusions she could not contain, and so she remains there frozen in her own state of madness, waiting, waiting, and waiting to grab ahold onto a reality, any world, where she can be beautiful even without a mask, beautiful in her eyes, beautiful in her own mind."
-a.m.a
07/04/13
Fotos do projeto Memoriascopio,de Leonardo Coelho (leocoelho.jor.br). Fotos reencontradas em antiquários e shopping-chãos no Rio de Janeiro e outras cidades.
Last year, I saw a great idea on Pinterest, about writing notes, big or little and putting them in a mason jar to read someday, so Dave and I did that. When Kizz said MEMORY was the next photo challenge, after I thought about that a little, I realized this was the best shot I could do for it! I looked through the notes this morning and chose these five :-)
For Scavenger Hunter Gatherer
#17 This brings back memories
This is a photo of an old lady I used to visit when I was a little girl. She was always very kind and I have fond memories of lemonade and buns in her garden.
2 декабря 2019, Творческий вечер памяти святителя Филарета / 2 December 2019, Creative evening in memory of St. Filaret
An oil painting of my father. He painted this one in 1985.
Memories of long gone times. A glass and a bottle of Jack-Op beer.
"Why, hello, say, can I buy you another glass of beer, brother..."