View allAll Photos Tagged missing
Another very simple, handheld 3 exposure HDR taken while walking around down by the river in Paducah, Kentucky.
Most of the time this is underwater (thus "missing"), but the river was unusually low this day and it was interesting to see what normally remains unseen.
I like the wear and tear and the texture of the rust. Otherwise, it's just another one of those "throw away" shots that seem to collect on my hard drive.
Something is missing at this Piasecki H-21C that was used by the German Air Force (Luftwaffe).
The H-21 Shawnee/Workhorse is a tandem rotor helicopter that was nicknamed the Flying Banana. The first flight of this cargo helicopter took place in 1952. It was in service for the United States Air Force, US Army and the French Army.
Interesting about this construction is the usage of a single 9-cylinder Curtis-Wright R-1820-103 Cyclone supercharged and air-cooled radial engine rated at 1,425hp.
The H-21C Shawnee (Model 43) for the Luftwaffe was built under licence by Weser Flugzeugbau in Germany. In total the Luftwaffe had 32 in service.
Despite its size the H-21C was not the heavyweight it looks like - MTOW was 15,200lb.
Map it: Street | Satellite | Hybrid | Nautical | Google Earth
Please visit my Facebook aviation photo page! (and become a fan, if you like it!)
www.facebook.com/pages/Thomas-Becker-Aviation-Photography...
If dreams werent dreams & dreams came true i woodnt b here id b wiv u.Distance is 1 thing dat keeps us apart.But ull always remain in my heart. plxxxxx come & full fill my dreams
Greeting card caption. I don't normally do formal pointed pen styles, but have made it my goal to learn.
Tiffany Ann Trull
5'2"
148 lbs
Last seen: 2/28/20
Last known location: Cherokee Farms exit off Alcoa Hwy
Possible sightings in Old City area around 9pm walking near Barley's
Any info contact KPD 865-215-7000
Knoxville, TN. 030820.
Last month I posted pics of semi-feral cats that were starving in a parking lot at a nearby small rural community. The parking lot was at a Mexican housing complex.
After noticing their lack of care I contact the local humane society to seek help for them.
Long story short, I checked on them a few days ago and was shocked to see that they were ALL gone. Vanished. Disappeared. The only cat there was this orange kitty....[which is a new one-didn't see him last time].
I contacted the shelter to see if they trapped them and they said no--that they noticed that all the cats were gone shortly after I notified them.
I hope the owner of the migrant apartments didn't rid them inhumanely.
I now feel bad --afraid that my actions caused their demise. I will think twice about doing the same next time. The pix below is the one posted last month. The cats were so cute--but starving.
Original story: flickr.com/photos/rainriver/2313257750/in/set-72157602124...
se solicita la colaboración de la comunidad en general a fin de dar con el paradero de SofÃa YasmÃn Herrera, de 3 años de edad, la pequeña es de contextura fÃsica delgada, de tez trigueña, cabellos ondulados largos hasta los hombros, color de ojos oscuros y sin señas particulares. VestÃa campera de color celeste oscuro casi azul, polera color blanco, pantalón color verde agua y calzaba zapatillas color azul.
Cualquier información dirigirse a la dependencia policial más cercana o bien llamar al 445-023/021 o al 101.
OJALA QUE APARESCA!
I am in love with Birch from Purple Onion Designs!!
Is he not just the cutest bunny ever?!?My project for this weeks's theme at Always Fun Challenges.
Head to my blog for more info. including a video and how to play along.
Missing middle homes, like ADUs, backyard cottages, mother-in-law suites, duplexes, triplexes, low-rise apartments or townhouses, have long fit into urban neighborhoods, often providing more affordable rental and purchase options than single, detached houses.
Sightline Institute Middle Homes Photo Library: www.sightline.org.
This work by Sightline Institute Modest Middle Homes Library is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
I know that all of you have been waiting for one of these. Sorry it's been a while.
Part of the Peas Project
www.flickr.com/photos/jimfrazier/albums/72157621916521505
Lighting: SB600 camera left in softbox at full power triggered by CLS, foam board reflector on right.
COPYRIGHT 2010 by JimFrazier All Rights Reserved. This may NOT be used for ANY reason without consent.
k100607c-DSC_3239a-wb
This is a copy of a sculpture by Karl Duldig, that has gone missing somewhere in Melbourne. If you find it let the Duldig Studio people know! For more information about this interesting site see www.duldig.org.au
Park bench near the lake in Osborne Park in Willoughby Ohio. Just before sunset. The only thing missing is a lovely couple holding hands.
Many notices were put up around the scene of the Grenfell Tower fire tragedy to help find missing persons from the tower. Bramley Road, London (near Latimer Road underground station). June 16, 2017.
My mate Marmite - influenced by advertising? what me? never! - has left the rescue centre and gone to her new home. Being 16 years old, she was there for a bit longer than most so I really got to know her. She's such a sweet girl and very fit for her age. I really miss seeing her lovely face, but I hope she's very happy in her new home.
Texture by Distressed Jewell: www.flickr.com/photos/jewellofdistressed/3593922943/in/ph...
Rack: Yes, I was surprised myself to be missing her, my mother. We both, you and I, have the monster in us. I was having a bad day and as if the low point let the heart wander front and central. I just missed her on a visceral level. I could feel tenderness.
I think the grief for the dog, a sadness like I have never experienced before, even for the first dog, has let me learn about and feel grief. It’s incredibly painful. Sometimes I just lie in bed and feel it consume me like a physical pain. Maybe for the first time in my life I am able to go to it. Woo woo alert. And walk through it. I’ve been doing much better in general. Went back to the gym. It lifts my mood immensely.
I hope the second puberty allows you great freedom and a new kind of energy. I feel as if you are already enjoying some of it.
Our meth-head neighbour who periodically acquires someone to torture/fuck him is wailing into the tenement air shaft. It goes on for days. It was the worst during lockdown and began to really affect me. It is infuriating, horrific and tragic. He is so obviously re-enacting some horror of his childhood. The oddest theatre. Not your typical Saturday soundtrack.
He’s across the way in the neighboring building, but the acoustics make it seem like he’s in our bathroom.
Ruin: Poor chap, over the back. I remember those days, that ketamine daze. The first of these new pills feels uncomfortable, just a little. Because they reduce testosterone, it seems that they can cause depression, but that might just be men lamenting for the loss of their potency. I want it, that loss, withdrawal, whatever, but that might be another type of madness.
Grief, there’s a thing. I don’t know if I ever really felt it. I am not sure how much I feel. The second puberty, the reverse scenario, I imagine that will be like the other, speedier even, time passes faster now, and will lead to dribbling and complete lack of understanding, as it was in the beginning, but I am guessing that has to be part of it anyway. You get as far as you get, and I will slog on with this until I can’t, go wobbly, blind, bedwetting and feeble, or whatever. I will record as much as I can, until I can’t. It doesn’t really worry me. At least I think it doesn’t. Losing 'Him Indoors', or you, would cause real grief.
I love my old geezer Duchamp. I think I am inventing a whole new history for him. I hope it jumbles in, eventually, with the real story, and that nobody will be able to tell the truth from the fiction, a bit like how Liz Taylor might become confused with Cleopatra come a thousand years, and the ravages of what seems to be on the horizon for us blunderers.
Rack: Losing dogs taught me about grief. And other homilies. Easier to feel it for a quadruped.
Ruin: Grief did sort of hit me in a wave about 6 months after Jeffrey died, but I am not sure if I was grieving for him or myself, or just in shock at having endured the whole situation and having seen it in such a raw form, that shit flying everywhere, the utter lack of control, and that delirium and reborn innocence.
It was an aftershock, that 'six months later' explosion. I remember thinking beforehand that it would be like that scene in ‘Fanny and Alexander’, that shrieking in a room, heard from the outside, through double doors. As it was, it did happen a bit like that.
There were about 20 minutes of wailing, or rather I wailed, unstoppable like vomiting, until it stopped. It was as if I had been, inadvertently, the vehicle for a lament. It just crept up.
It was over, as suddenly as it had started, like a purge.
I expected to hear that from upstairs when our neighbour handed himself in for Euthanasia some months ago. I expected to hear his partner's lament. But it hasn’t happened, at least not yet. Everyone has their own timetable, apparently. I can’t imagine it not happening, but perhaps just there being the possibility of the same here, that euthanasia, it makes one more pragmatic about the whole process. It leaves me wondering if this might be deadening, a creativity stifler too.
One response, the Irish response, seems too overblown, melodramatic, lyrical and theatrical even, the other, the Dutch, seems cold and detached, pragmatic through and through, at least to this outsider. I feel somewhat stretched between both. I wanted to learn some pragmatism, but it’s a hard lesson. I have no idea why we seem to be compelled to put ourselves through these conflicts, or at least some of us do. At the same time, I think I know what some of the ‘drivers’ are.
Maybe the sound/noise isolation is just better here, though I can still hear when she plays the piano upstairs.
Perhaps it's just all too private. I get to write about this, courtesy of it all being just that thing called 'fiction', and allowing for that possibility that you and I, Rack and Ruin, neither do, nor never will, exist.
I like these closed doors with the scream behind them.
Below are two pieces by Marcel Duchamp.
1. 'With Hidden Noise', 1916. (fabricated 1964) Brass, twine, copper and unknown object. (1887-1968) Edition of 8 replicas. LACMA
2. 'Fresh Widow', New York 1920
copyright © 2009 sean dreilinger
view slow down dude, you're missing all the flowers! - _MG_2158 on a black background.
I had to make my own compression slot since someone forgot to do so. Looked it up and all I needed was a hacksaw and dremel.
The missing generation.
In many of the ethnic minority villages of southwest China, there was a noticeable absence of the "middle" generation. Young children would commonly be seen only with their grandparents. In China's environment of rapid modernization and economic growth, young working adults are finding more lucrative employment opportunities outside of their traditional villages in nearby cities.
Guizhou province, China. 2006
The jigsaw has been restored - a friend replaced the missing cogwheel piece and several tabs, in Autumn 2022.
Expert c400pc Vanity Fair, 1repl plus minor tab repairs, decorated continuous cut with cogwheels. Bought in Feb 2019.
I have seen Expert-cut brands of this image in 200pc, 300pc & 400pc piece counts - the Graphic Gallery, Warne Chandos & Boots Expert.
The painting is 'Vanity Fair' by John Young Hunter (1911). The model was the artist's first wife, Mary, also an artist, and it was painted in the grounds of Holland House, Kensington, London.
My jigsaw has a piece missing (top left corner) and two or three slightly damaged pieces, with a few lifting or lost pieces of image. It has a fantastic cut, with some spectacular whimsies (including F, H, L).
For more information about the artists John Young Hunter and Mary Young Hunter, and examples of their work, see the Pyms Gallery site:
www.pymsgallery.com/Exhib/YoungH/index.html
You can see a related 1898 painting by John on this blogspot, which has the title "My Lady's Garden":
peacocksgarden.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/john-young-hunter-m...
This earlier painting is owned by Tate Britain, who say:
"Painted in the grounds of Holland House, Kensington. The artist's first wife Mary (1872–1947) posed for the lady. The picture is cited in the Introduction to Royal Academy Pictures, 1899, with other imaginative canvases by the younger men as ‘typical examples of the modern spirit and as marking plainly the direction in which youthful fancy is disposed to tend’. A. L. Baldry described the school to which the artist and his wife belonged as ‘the new Pre-Raphaelites’ and said that it had grown up as a reaction against the realistic belief taught a quarter of a century before. According to him ‘My Lady's Garden’ was the first picture to show that this romantic tendency had gained a hold over the artist.
John Young HUNTER 1874–1955
Portrait, genre and landscape painter; began as a neo-Pre-Raphaelite, later turned mainly to portraiture. Born 29 October 1874 in Glasgow, son of Colin Hunter, R.A. Studied at the R.A. Schools and under Sargent, Alma-Tadema and Orchardson. Married Mary Towgood, painter and fellow-student, in 1899 and spent eight months with her in Italy, returning through Germany and Belgium. Exhibited at the R.A. from 1895; with his wife at the Fine Art Society in 1903 and at the Paris Salon (Medal 1914). Lived at Gifford's Hall, Suffolk. Settled in the U.S.A. in 1913 and painted scenes of Indian life as well as portraits. Died at Taos, New Mexico, 9 August 1955."
And missing my friends there. And the warm weather.
Also missing my camera :-( I've had to send it into Canon for recalibration and I wanted to upload something today.
Day 327
6/15
Pray God you can cope. I'll stand outside this woman's work, this woman's world. Oh, it's hard on a man, now his part is over. Now starts the craft of the father. I know you've got a little life in you yet, I know you've got a lot of strength left. I should be crying but I just can't let it show, I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking. All the things we should've said that I never said, all the things we should have done that we never did. All the things we should've given but I didn't. Oh, darling, make it go, make it go away. Give me these moments, give them back to me. This Woman's Work-Maxwell
5 years ago today, I was getting out of the shower. I needed a towel, so I called to my mom. No one came. So I called again. I heard over the sound of the fan what I thought was someone laughing. I heard someone get up, walk to the closet, and get me a towel. The door opened, and my father stood there. He sat down on the toilet, wrapped me in my towel, and held my hand. I saw his eyes were red, as if he were crying, and he was trembling. He couldn’t figure out what to say. He told me he didn’t know how to say it, but my grandmother had died. I pushed him away, told him to stop lying to me and tell me the truth. He looked at me, hurt, and a tear fell down his cheek. That instant, one of the only times I saw my father cry, I knew it was real. I collapsed to the ground and cried. Hysterically. It felt as if my world was literally torn apart. Like once she was dead, half of me was too. I literally have never felt so incomplete in my life. And honestly, I still don’t feel complete. I feel as if part of me is missing. The part that she brought out. But maybe a new part has grown, a more independent one. One who gets by on her memory.
I'll upload all my late ones over the next few weeks, it's been really busy and my show and finals are this week.