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i really recommend ryan and lexi's mid-day nap playlist for a nap/going to sleep; it's really relaxing.
everyday mid socks*
Available at
ardor* mainstore/MP
4 HUD enabled colors.
HUD hide feature.
5 purchasable applier sets.
Sizes:
Male: Legacy M,Gianni,Jake
Female: Kupra, Legacy F, Reborn, Maitreya
Youth: toddlee & tweene
Copyright © 2022, ardor LLC, All rights reserved.
Heading north into Rogers, AR on a partly cloudy Saturday, July 1, 2023 morning, an Arkansas & Missouri sand train passes one of the line's industry tracks. Captured on Kodak Ektar 100 film using a Mamiya RB67.
A summer evening. The color, unfortunately was provided by smoke from the Pine Gulch Fire in Colorado, approximately 175 miles away from where I took this photo.
I turned 18 last week, and I'm so unsure about so many things.
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IG @ emlymay
tumblr: but-not-today.tumblr.com
NR26, NR84, NR102 and NR98 work a late running 1MW2 away from Albury, bound for Port Kembla.
Sunday 14th January 2018
These two Crows....."Australian Ravens" left the breeding island with a very erratic flight pattern. I could see something in the front birds beak but it wasn't until I got home and downloaded the image that I realised they were having a mid air squabble over an egg that had been stolen.
I'm guessing it was one from an Ibis nest.
Just returned to steam at the North Norfolk Railway, Hudswell-Clarke 'Whissington' steams into Brockford and Wetheringsett Station at the Mid Suffolk Railway. On the rear is Beyer-Peakcock no. 1827, which would be returning to its home at the Foxfield Railway this evening.
An excellent defender of secured positions, the Mid-Lander operates close to home due to it's ammo resupply needs. This is not a limitation however, as it has been tailored to suit to the task of patrol and first line defense.
A smaller scale, red mechwarrior styled build. I wanted this design to look a bit like a Highlander.. It's not an exact copy, but hopefully has the same feel. Maybe like to try a larger fig version at some point.
I got this shot just after noon today. It's so low in the sky even at mid-day but I'm loving the nice long shadows that it creates.
The volcanic Almannagjá Gorge in Thingvellir National Park, Iceland, is on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge where the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates pull apart.
another shopper and i were admiring this lovely antique car in the grocery store's parking lot. he offered to take my picture in front of it but i demurred ~grin~...... have a couple more shots of various parts (like the running boards) and the whole at a distance
ANSH scavenger2 retro
All posted today by contacts of mine. Thank you flickr friends:
1. Sher www.flickr.com/photos/dragonflydreams88/14498052012/in/co...
2. Kerri Lee www.flickr.com/photos/77654185@N07/14310527840/in/contacts/
3. Agnes www.flickr.com/photos/agnessiljekil/14311776128/in/contacts/
© Derechos de Autor. Esta fotografía no podrá usarse sin mi consentimiento escrito.
© All rights reserved, don´t use this image without my permission.
Canon 450D + CANON EF24-105 4L IS USM, @95mm, 1/125 sec, f/11, ISO 100, No Tripod, Manual Exposure, Date 01/08/2010 over 12:00:00
Como se hizo: Masia en Midi Pyrénées, mañana que nos escapamos mis hermanos y yo al país vecino, desde entonces no hemos tenido unas vacaciones juntos. . Imagen convertida a BN con un método "artesanal" basado en Color Lab y mejorado por condimentos cosecha propia, revisión de 2014. Imagen procedente de un sólo archivo RAW, no se ha usado ningún sistema de blending de imágenes.
Agradezco a todos vuestro apoyo y feedbak y sera bien agradecido en cualquier caso. Un fuerte abrazo para todos, espero que la visita haya merecido la pena para usted. Por favor no otorgue logos o me invite a participar en grupos sin hacer un pequeño comentario. Esto hace realmente la diferencia.
English:
Making off: Last morning and last holidays moths my brothers, Midi Pyrénées. Edited from a one RAW, Not used methods of blending images. BW with enhanced "artigazo" method, add a warm filter with low opacity.
My thanks to @ll of you for your support and feedback because without them I wouldn't have
He stood on the edge of the world, a lone figure suspended between sky and stone. Before him sprawled New Zealand's Southern Alps, their peaks — Poseidon, Sarpedon, Amphion — rising like silent arguments carved from light and ice. The glacier unfurled its pale tongue, an ancient current arrested mid-sentence, its surface rippled with the memory of motion. The air shimmered, crystalline and unrepentant, a cold clarity that cut to the marrow.
Lake Agnes lay below, a still pool, dark and sharp as polished obsidian. It absorbed the landscape without a ripple, the reflection a perfect inversion—mountains upside down, the sky swallowed by earth. The scene was a paradox: immensity caught in a whisper, time paused on the brink of collapse. He felt the grass brittle beneath his boots, the wind threading through the crevices of his jacket—a touch neither warm nor cruel, merely indifferent.
For three days he had wrestled through the entrails of the land. The rainforest had closed around him with a suffocating lushness, roots coiling like serpents beneath the moss. Streams foamed with a glacial bite, the waters quick and thoughtless, bruising his ankles as he waded through. Thorned thickets tore at his skin with the intimacy of old grudges. He climbed slopes slick with rain, his body folded into painful angles, the horizon always receding. When he reached this place, the fog had been thick enough to erase the contours of the world. His tent had trembled in the night winds, the cold seeping in like an unwelcome thought.
But then dawn came, unburdened and lucid. The veil lifted, and the mountains revealed themselves in their raw articulation. They did not posture or proclaim—they simply were, immutable and unscripted. The glacier’s silence was more profound than any roar; the peaks did not loom so much as exist beyond scale.
Here, in this distilled emptiness, the trivial machinery of the world he had fled seemed absurd. The restless striving, the ceaseless revolutions of ambition and vanity—all of it shrank to the size of a pebble lost in a chasm. There was no wheel here to turn, no circuit to complete. Only the landscape, bare and relentless in its honesty.
He filled his lungs, the air sharp enough to taste. It was an act of quiet rebellion, this deliberate witnessing. In that breath, he found not freedom, but a dissolution of need. The lines between man and mountain wavered, softened by the sheer scale of indifference. If he stayed long enough, perhaps he too would become part of this tableau—his form dissolving into lichen and shadow, his presence no more than a pause in the wilderness’s endless thought.
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To explore more of these captured moments and woven words, visit the artist and writer at their sanctuary of creation: www.coronaviking.com