View allAll Photos Tagged perpetrate,
This is the cover image from my latest video tutorial discussing the addition of colour tones to black and white photographs using Adobe Lightroom and the Google Nik Collection
The image is of Dolphin Apartments in London where i stayed recently. Sometimes you have to take advantage when you end up with a room bang in the centre of the building.
The place has a dark history perpetrated by some appalling individuals.
www.firstmanphotography.com/tutorials/black-and-white-pho...
Cadiz-Spain **
Carlos Javier Palomino Muñoz, an anti-fascist, was murdered in Madrid, Spain on 11 November 2007. He, aged 16, was campaigning to counter against a fascist rally. The murder occurred at Legazpi Station, where he was stabbed to death.
Josué Estébanez de la Hija, the murderer, is a neo-Nazi who originated from the Basque Country and was a soldier. He received a 23-year prison sentence.
Neo-Nazis in other countries honored Estébanez's name, including the perpetrator of the Christchurch mosque shootings, Brenton Tarrant.
Built in 1925 in the Mediterranean Revival style, this house has a unique exterior appearance, with a green terra cotta tile bonnet roof, matching garage, and a side sun room with full-height windows, and is one of the finest examples of this style in the whole of the city. This was the former home of Ohio native and former resident of New York City Athalia Ponsell, whom was born into a wealthy family and had risen to fame as a model, dancer, television personality, and engagement to Joseph Kennedy, Jr. Moving to St. Augustine in the early 1970s, Ponsell quickly started a relationship with successful real estate mogul and then-mayor James Lindsley, which ended in domestic violence and a divorce. In 1974, after becoming well-known as a outspoken political activist heavily critical of local affairs, and having bothered a lot of local residents and interests, Ponsell was found hacked to death on the front steps of this house with a machete, a case which remains unsolved. Her neighbor and friend Frances Bemis (1898-1974), a former newspaper writer, was murdered a few months later during an evening walk, likely by the same perpetrator, in a case that also remains unsolved.
The body of Snow White being examined by police forensics while the perpetrators pose nearby
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Case No: 4240026
Date: 15/12/13
Reporting Officer: Officer Dan Foley
Prepared By: Officer Dan Foley
Incident: Arrest of suspected arms dealer and attempted escape.
Detail of event: Arrest of Irish arms dealer that lead to a footchase and two officers down. Perpetrator taken down by SWAT leader. Well-trained and tough perp, too.
---------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------
(Foley) He went off down the road!
Roger that.
*Skrrrrk* All units, this is SWAT Captain Wallace. We are in pursuit of an armed hostile, heading down 5th Street towards 1st Avenue.
Hey Foley, you might wanna hang back. He is armed, remember.
I'm not backing out now, Harry.
There! Down that alley! He just jumped the fence!
Copy that. Let's go.
Ready? Up and over-
*BRRRRRT*
FOLEY!
Drop the gun! I mean it! Drop the bloody MP5, 'else I'll drop this bitch right now!
*clatter*
Good.
---------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------
Wallace dropped the gun. He knew that the perp meant business, and wouldn't hesitate to kill this woman. All Wallace needed to do was get the perp to point the gun away form the woman, and he'd be able to stop him.
And then the perp gave him his chance.
His Glock came up; coming around from the woman's face, coming in to bear with Wallce's head.
Time froze for Wallace. He could see the movement of the pistol, and could feel his heart thumping. this was go time.
Dropping his hand to his cross-chest holster, he gripped the handle of his .45, tugging it out and bringing it round. at the same time, his legs moved into the classic Weaver Stance; both hands around the grip, one leg behind the other.
And as the foresight blurred and the Irishman's shoulder came into focus, his thumb clicked down on the safety catch, and he pulled this trigger.
---------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------
*BLAM*
Arrrrgh! You motherf-
Shut the fuck up.
Foley, you alright?
Yeah, I think. Just a flesh wound. Went right through, but godDAMN does it hurt.
That's good.
*Skrrrk* All units, this is Captain Wallace. I have the perp secure on 4th Street, with a shoulder wound. I also have an injured officer, with a leg wound.
HQ, we got him. Guess the next round's on you, huh Jim?
---------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------
Woooooh! I hate to leave a story unfinished, but I often find I do. Not this time!
Chalk one up for the SWAT team. Oh, and Foley's gonna be off work for a while, recuperating in the hospital. Ah well.
I still am not able to photo good. and it makes me very discouraged.
Bump for better pic.
Hi all!
just some copyright infringement news to share...
Full investigation report by Pat Brunet
www.eventphotos.com.au/news/image-theft-is-a-crime/
LATEST NEWS UPDATE
Thank you all for the support with the links to bring this matter to the front for the interest of photographers.
I hope this will benefit those in doubt of what to do when similar cases arises.
Cheers to all!
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Archives
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mails exchange
Laura McLaughlin of Ink Global wrote:
Dear Mr Cho
Thank you for your email. In order to resolve this matter as quickly and as amicably as possible, we agree to your request of S$750 (plus a credit in a future edition of the magazine). I apologise again for what was, I must assure you, an honest mistake by Ink.
I will contact Gus Low directly as per your suggestion, and payment will be made to you tomorrow.
Kind regards
Laura
My reply:
I am sorry Laura,
it's already too late. The media has already been fed and I can't stop it now. Besides me there are 8 other photographers with the same plight in line hoping to get this truth out to the public as a wake-up call to deter others.
Stealing images from not one but nine photographers in a single edition of the May 2011 Jetstar in-flight magazine is a SERIAL CRIME. It's no more an honest mistake. Ink Global is an international company. You should have known better as a legal counsel.
At this moment, it's no more about compensation. It's the principle to safeguard photographers from such issues in the near future.
We have given you enough time to make amends but you did not comply.
For this I have already wasted so much of my time communicating with my supportive groups which burns up my professional time.
Ink Global will have to face the music for this as you have shown disrespect to the nine photographers from various countries who are being ripped off their images from flickr without their knowledge. The photographers only came to know through Pat Brunet of EventPhotos who started investigating a complaint from a flickr friend of his.
As of now, I will let the officials of the Intellectual Property of Singapore decide how they will address this copyright infringement issue. Expect to see more exposure over the worldwide web. Nothing I can do to stop it now.
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After contacting Ink Global, their Design Director, Peter Stephens hope to get away with just a $100 fee as compensation claiming it was an oversight on their part. Well if every publisher give us the same cheap excuses there will be no more food on the table for photographers eventually.
When I refused their offer they bump it up to $250 and again to $500 like a stock trading. My request was $1500 as penalty for the crime to settle the case in private and they consider that blackmail. Would the judge let you off with just a reprimand if you rob a bank and say sorry only when caught?
To my surprise after Pat from Event Photos investigated deeper into Jetstar in-flight magazine, 8 other photographers from flickr came forward with complaints about their stolen images appearing on the same May 2011 edition. This gets worse. It becomes a serial crime. This is no overlooking matter and definitely not an honest mistake anymore by Ink Global..
I guess they must have done this several times and got away with it. Obviously Ink Global tried to patch things up by paying in small doses. It may work on one or two weaklings but not all. So I was being threatened with legal action should this news leak to the media. What wrong have I done I ask myself. They committed a serial crime and I speak the truth with evidence in hand. Nothing can stop me from feeding honest information to the media.
Ink Global is unaware that Pat has done research and communicated with photographers involved and will be exposing the infringement issues over his blog. This action should create awareness that such stealing activities are coming from bigger corporations.
I am just a small fry who have no budget to engage a lawyer but hopefully the media exposure will hit the perpetrators hardest on their global image. I hope this incident will set an example to deter others from trying to steal images from the internet.
If you think your image appeared in Jetstar in-flight magazine (any edition) without permission, please report it to:
Pat Brunet of Event Photos email: pat@eventphotos.com.au
Please copy this to you friends if you can. Thank you.
Hope all is well.
Cheers
WilliamCho
At the end of last week Musk sent 4 nongovernmental employees to plug in harddrives and take over the Treasury computers. This gives him access to Social Security and Medicare data among other things. The two Treasury employees who said the perpetrators did not have the security clearance to access the data were put on furlough and access was accomplished. The administration allowed this to happen. It appears that unelected Elon Musk is in charge. Photoleap A. I. was used to create this image. The situation is frightening.
When West Russia began to research and develop the KAMAZ 5602 family of armored wheeled vehicles, Belgrade managed to send a small attachment of its own engineers to observe the process with the intention of creating a Yugoslav equivalent. After a couple of years across KAMAZ's various R&D sites, the engineers made it back home and immediately got to work on what would become the M-97 series of armored mobility platforms. Hence, the vehicle before you is as much a child of Yugoslavia as it is of West Russia. This combined parentage has been selected by Western intelligence agencies as a hallmark of the two Slavic countries warmly embracing each other; however, a great deal of evidence demonstrates that the relations between the two aforementioned states are lukewarm at best.
Regardless of ancestry or politically-charged backstory, the M-97 has proven itself to be a fairly reliable battle taxi despite its limited service. Originally, Belgrade had hoped to field at least 200 of these machines in many different configurations ranging from simple APC to wrecker to dedicated fire support vehicle and everything in between. Unfortunately, those aspirations were reneged upon after members of the Ministry of Finance demonstrated to the Ministry of Defense that the specialized chassis required far too much fiscal investment to be immediately viable, especially when funds had to be quickly put elsewhere to accommodate Yugoslavia's ambitions in the southern Balkans. Thus, the dream of having a fleet of resilient, mine-protected general purpose vehicles was quashed. For this reason, the M-97 has been mostly relegated to internal security duties rather than being pushed to units operating outside of Yugoslavia's internationally recognized frontiers. Indeed many of Yugoslavia's border guards extol the comfort and easy handling of the M-97, ergo inflating the desire of new recruits to serve closer to home rather than abroad. This might be a good thing considering a handful of extremely persistent ultranationalist terror cells lurk in the mountains, perpetrating heinous acts every now and again.
This is 1870s and western Texas is a lawless land where laws are passed only by eating them first. Here, Johnnie and Cresencio are two young ranch-hands in the Moonberry Cattle company - a strangely named endeavor that raises and trades thin-blooded longhorns in the rugged Chihuahuan Desert. Johnnie is from east Texas and has ended up in the Moonberry due to poor execution of his grand plan to become rich in California. Cresencio was born here of parents who have crossed over Rio Grande decades ago. He is a fine horseman and has eagerly taught Johnnie how to live of the land, repair guns, tie a lasso, and, manage his temper. “The heat stays in the sand, not your head”, he often says. But on this warm cloudless summer morning, Cresencio was unable to control his own anger.
“It’s the same bear, again! ” Johnnie exclaimed as Cresencio shook his head in hard disbelief.
The past winter didn’t see much snowfall in the Chisos, depleting the land’s water resources severely. Now, summer is pushing everyone to the limit. Vegetation is more brown than lush, springs are dry and animals are edgy. Cresencio and his pals have been moving their herds every now and then to keep them near any faint source of water that may have only days before drying up. If this was already not trouble enough, a bear has taken a liking to newborn cattle in their herd. It has hunted thrice already and this morning, it has left behind partial carcass of its fourth victim.
“Let’s go get it!” Cresencio said in a firm voice that trembled just a bit due to the bubbling anger within.
“Yeah?” Johnnie consented with a smile and an eagerness that befits his teen temperament well.
Easier said than done; Over the next few days, they ride through every trail in the Chisos looking for the perpetrator. They come across several bears but none limp as the one Pedro had seen trespassing their camp. After a week, the chase needs to be abandoned. The weak water source has dried up and it is time to move the herd again. The bear has followed them over their past two moves; may be, it will do so again.
And it did. One night, Cresencio spotted a limping shadow in the light of the crescent moon.
“Johnnie, it is limping real bad. ” He whispered.
“Gun? ” Johnnie was in a recoil already.
“No. Let’s rope it. ”
In the next few minutes, two lassos fly towards the unsuspecting bear. Once caught, the bear doesn’t put up much of a fight. The broken ankle has drained him of all his fights.
A month later, after amusing all Moonberry ranchers from behind the makeshift bars, the bear is sold off to Simon O’Neil. O’Neil is a smooth-talking charmer who occasionally visits the area to sell snake oil and buy longhorn hide. He works for a certain Cody, who will – Johnnie and Cresencio were told – put the bear to work in his hit ‘Wild West’ show.
– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –
The Big Bend National Park is one of the remotest in the US park system that knows how to test a visitor’s will and endurance. It’s a vast desert that has been testing men and breaking the weak ones. Historically, ranchers and cowboys have attempted livelihood in these lands by raising herds of desert-adapted animals. But their lives were not always rosy. Shooting high in the Chisos Mountains, within sight of the dawn’s shadow through the ‘window’ the other day, I ‘heard’ whispers of the above tale floating in the thin morning air. Johnnie Ward is a historic character from this region but the rest... ah, well... believe me at your own risk.
Dear Mrs. Speaker, Mrs. Viktorija, I remember your visit to Kyiv, one of the first since the beginning of this war.
Dear Mr. President, friend Gitanas, you have been to Ukraine many times, you and I have done a lot together. I'm sure we will do even more!
Dear Mrs. Prime Minister, Mrs. Ingrida, I am grateful to you for your visit yesterday...
Dear Lithuanian people!
I am grateful for the opportunity to address you today on behalf of the entire Ukrainian people, who will always remember your sincerity and readiness to support us at the most difficult time for our country.
You were among the first to come to the aid of Ukraine. And you remain among those who care most about peace and security of Europe.
Russia's full-scale war against Ukraine has posed a strategic question to Europe: are the values that underlie the unification of nations on the European continent after World War II still alive?
Or the values have already played their part and can become exhibits in museums for tourists? Just part of Europe's historical heritage somewhere in the halls of ancient palaces, not something that defines real life.
Unfortunately, there is no common answer to this question for all Europeans.
But the future of Europe depends on this - whether there will be a common answer.
In the liberated areas of Ukraine, work continues to record and investigate war crimes committed by the Russian Federation.
Almost every day new mass graves are found. Evidence is being gathered.
Thousands and thousands of victims. Hundreds of cases of brutal torture. Human corpses are still found in manholes and basements. Tied up, mutilated bodies.
There are villages - once quite large, which were left almost without inhabitants.
Hundreds of children are orphans. That is, at least hundreds of children, because we do not know the exact number of victims yet.
Hundreds of cases of rape have been recorded, including underage girls, very young children... And even a baby! It's just scary to talk about it now.
But it's true, it happened.
Even this person, this Russian savage Bychkov from Pskov is identified. The paratrooper or special services officer who sent this video to his comrades. Video of what he does to the baby. How he torments the baby!
This is the Russian military. "Defender" of children. This is a "special operation" planned in Moscow. This is the story of the struggle for the "Russian world". This is what the Russian army and Russian paratroopers will now be associated with. From Pskov.
Rape of a baby…
Russian propagandists have apparently already begun to justify this. They will probably say, as always, that this did not happen, or even if it did happen, it was the protection of "Russian-speakers." And propagandists will also be responsible for this crime, as well as for any such crime. Including those who educate such paratroopers. From Pskov.
And including those in Europe who still do not remove Russian propaganda from television.
And I wonder how do the Minister of Defense of the Russian Federation and other authors of this "special operation" evaluate its results now? After such crimes.
After such a "feat" of the Russian soldier Bychkov?
Maybe the Russian Minister of Defense will invite such Pskov paratroopers to his home to protect his children and grandchildren? Or the minister wouldn’t want that?
I'm sure he'll be scared.
Everywhere in Ukraine where the occupiers came, along the roads, in yards, parks, gardens, there is a burial of people whose bodies could not be taken to cemeteries.
And all this is within a period of several weeks of Russian occupation. About a month. In the areas around our capital, in the Chernihiv and Sumy regions, in the north of our state.
The whole world remembered the name of the city of Bucha. But this is just one symbol of the crimes of the Russian military.
You can take any other city from those where they managed to gain a foothold for a while, any village... The occupiers did the same thing there as in Bucha.
And what is in the east of our country, where Russian troops still remain? What is in the south? We cannot even imagine what is in Mariupol and Volnovakha, which were almost destroyed by the Russian army.
Obviously, it's even scarier there.
Russian officials and state propagandists deny crimes committed by their army. They say it's a staging. They lie in response to even the obvious facts that convince everyone in the world.
However, no wonder. They always did it. But they have changed their tactics in areas where the Russian troops still remain.
Corpses are no longer left on the streets there. They are taken out and probably burned.
There are mass deportations of people from the occupied areas. Hundreds of thousands of people have already been deported. They are placed in special filtration camps. Documents are taken away from them. They are interrogated and humiliated. It is unknown how many are killed.
Many deportees are distributed in the regions of Russia and banned from leaving.
Obviously, all this is an attempt to get rid of witnesses to Russian war crimes in Ukraine.
Is it possible that the Russian military has done and is doing so without orders from the high command? Impossible. Is it possible that the Russian political leadership is not aware of the consequences of such orders? Impossible.
But this is happening on our Ukrainian land. Why?
The answer is very cynical. They are confident of impunity. They are sure that they will be able to make the world forget it. They are sure Europe will forget this or Europe's claims can simply be brushed aside.
They have a simple, ordinary logic. Like, everyone needs to trade. Everyone needs oil. Everyone needs gas. Everyone will want to use Russian territory for the transit of their goods. Everyone will want to use the Russian market, the big market. That's what Moscow thinks.
Of course, if everyone in Europe were as principled and respected the values of Europe as you do in Lithuania, and we are proud of you, I am sure that the Russian leadership would not hope that they would go unpunished. Probably, this war would not have begun. They would not have dared to make a decision to start it.
But what do we see?
The European Union is discussing the sixth - I emphasize: the sixth package of sanctions against Russia for the war unprecedented since World War II, and it is still unknown whether oil will be subject to sanctions.
Even after seeing massacres in Bucha and other cities, even knowing about the deportations of people, even watching the deliberate destruction of peaceful cities by Russian missiles and air bombs - some EU countries cannot decide when they will at least significantly limit the purchase of Russian energy.
Hundreds of European companies and banks have not only not yet refused to operate in the Russian market, but are also showing outright contempt in response to demands to stop financing Russia's military machine through their taxes and excise taxes.
And all this is happening right now - when the blood is still fresh. What does this indicate?
If oil is being seriously discussed only for the sixth package of sanctions, then the world does not realize what war Russia was preparing for. If there is still no clear decision on Russian gas, there can be no certainty that Europe has a common will to stop Russian war crimes. To force Russia to seek peace.
If there are large European companies and large European banks, which even in the midst of hostilities in Ukraine do not consider it necessary to withdraw from the Russian market, it means that all other companies will take this as a signal: wait, wait a bit and then you can work as usual, even if nothing changes significantly in Russia's behavior.
Ladies and Gentlemen!
Dear Lithuanian people!
I am grateful to you for the leadership. For being the first to abandon Russian energy now. When it is really necessary.
I am grateful to you, Gitanas, for the important decision. For being the first to give us real help, to give us weapons. Stingers and more.
It was a historic manifestation of leadership. After all, the Lithuanian people, like no other, understand how the occupiers can destroy freedom and at what cost the independence is rebuilt then, which you have done exemplary.
This is exactly the kind of leadership the whole continent needs now to truly save and uphold common values that are undoubtedly important for Europe.
To prove that the common values of freedom, human rights, respect for state borders and prevention of a war of invasion are in fact alive, not something outdated and worthy of a museum only.
When the continent thought primarily of selfish interests, rather than of what should unite everyone, this has always led to terrible times for Europe as a whole. Discord, outbreaks of revanchism, wars - this is definitely not what Europeans need in the 21st century.
But this is what Russia is trying to bring back.
The Russian state must be responsible for this war. Russian officials and military commanders, all those guilty of war crimes, must be held accountable. All organizers and perpetrators of deportation must be held accountable. Russia must be deprived of any opportunity to terrorize its neighbors.
It's not just about us, it's not just about Ukraine! The real Russian plans are obvious to everyone. Ukraine is just the beginning. Next, God forbid, but next is your state, other Baltic states, Moldova, Georgia, Poland, Central Asian states. Threats are already being heard from Moscow against Finland and Sweden.
How will Europe be able to stop Russia's further expansion if it is not yet able to stop even what is happening in Ukraine now?
Although I know that Lithuania is already doing everything one hundred percent to protect Europe's values, freedom and security for Europeans, it is important that the whole of Europe works one hundred percent.
Every effort must be made to ensure that Europe's response to Russian aggression is truly strong and truly consolidated.
We cannot wait for the elaboration of the seventh or eighth or ninth, tenth, twentieth package of sanctions against Russia in order to make really powerful decisions. We must do everything necessary now - in the sixth package of sanctions. The European Union can do that. And it must do that. It must include oil there. It must impose sanctions on Russian banks - on all of them, not part. No demonstrations needed.
Specific deadlines must finally be set for each EU state in order to really abandon or at least significantly limit the consumption of Russian gas, oil, etc.
Only then will the Russian leadership come to the conclusion that real peace must be sought. That war is a catastrophe first of all for them.
We have already achieved a lot at the bilateral level. True understanding. True allied relations based not just on interests, but on values and on our common historical path.
We will only strengthen our cooperation in the original format of the Lublin Triangle. This will definitely be the basis for a new security configuration in the Baltic-Black Sea region.
Ukraine is also grateful to all our friends in the European Union for starting the accelerated procedure for our country to obtain the status of a candidate for EU membership. We are especially grateful to the Republic of Lithuania.
Successfully completing the procedure in the near future is also a must to show Russia that the war will not break either you or the whole of Europe.
And when peace finally comes - and I am sure it will come very soon if everyone in Europe is truly principled - we will be able to quickly and demonstratively rebuild Ukraine after this war.
I invite your society, your companies, your state to join the project of reconstruction of Ukraine. The reconstruction, which will be the most convincing argument for all those who still have doubts about Europe. About its future. About its potential.
Life must win the war. Values must win the war. Europe must win the war. And we will win.
I am grateful to each of you!
I am grateful to the Lithuanian people!
Glory to Ukraine!
Yep, that’s what you get in Yosemite, when you file a three-page official complaint. And you get Yosemite’s Toxic Mobbing Community Inyo Face. They’re leaving it up to the Perpetrators to stop what they are doing. Like that has worked in the last 10 years.
Don’t worry folks, I’ll continue to reach out, use the chain of command, expose the truth; as my neighbors, coworkers, managers and many that live and work in Yosemite National Park, continue to harass, bait and retaliate.
Yosemite will remain Extremely Toxic and Corrupt until there is common sense and accountability. Why is that so hard to understand? Until then, you may want to leave your dignity at the gate.
Yosemite’s current Superintendent is: Michael T Reynolds
Nominated Director National Parks Services is: David Vela
The Truth about Yosemite National Park: flic.kr/p/2hJ7Rye
• The truth about Yosemite 2016 to current: www.nbcbayarea.com/news/local/Yosemite-Chief-Retiring-Ami...
Thank you and Flickr for giving me the opportunity to expose the Truth. Doing so, is becoming more dangerous each and every day, in the United States.
The Himba are Bantu people settled in northern Namibia, mainly in the Kaokoveld. Traditionally Himbas are tinged with red skin ointment made of animal's fat and hematite powder. This ointment protect themselves from the heat of the sun, dry air, insects
In 1904, the Herero peoples to which they belong, and Nama people were victims of the first genocide in history, perpetrated by the Germans settlers in Namibia: 85,000 people were exterminated between 1904 and 1907.
ICELAND
The population of Iceland amounted to about 50,000 around 1830. The so-called vistarband rule, which required all landless people to be employed on a farm, was in effect and severely enforced. Everyone had to be housed and freedom of movement was forbidden. The vistarband therefore restricted people's liberty to travel and earn a living at will. This era is remembered for notorious criminal cases.
PRISTAPAR
The last execution in Iceland took place here in Þrístapar. On 12 January 1830, an axe severed the heads of Agnes Magnúsdóttir and Friðrik Sigurðsson, who, along with others, were convicted for the murders of Natan Ketilsson and Pétur Jónsson.
NATAN (B.1792)
Natan Ketilsson lost his father at a young age and was brought up by his mother. He acquired knowledge of homeopathy in Copenhagen and treated patients in the districts of Húnavatn and Skagafjörður.
NATAN
Natan had a bad reputation, however, and was considered dishonest and dangerous. Thus, when a farmer became ill, Natan managed to take possession of the Illugastaðir farmstead when he refused to treat the man unless he was given the land in exchange.
AGNES (B. 1795)
Agnes Magnúsdóttir grew up in the countryside, but her parents were unmarried servants. Agnes was considered intelligent and could both read and write. She had worked as a maidservant on several farms before Natan employed her at Illugastaðir. She was over thirty by then. Accounts differ on whether Agnes and Natan had an affair.
AGNES
""I hated being his servant. One night I would be his lover, with the hard rhythm of his breath matching my own. And then, the next, I was Agnes the workmaid. Not even the housekeeper!"
Hannah Kent - Burial Rites (2014)
SIGRÍÐUR (B. 1811)
Sigríður Guðmundsdóttir was the tenth child of her parents, but her father died when she was still in the womb. Just after her confirmation, she was sent to Natan in Illugastaðir where she first worked as a maid and then as a housekeeper.
FRIÐRIK (Β. 1810)
Friðrik Sigurðsson was the son of a farmer in Katadalur near ittugastaðir. He was considered unruly and domineering, avaricious and impetuous. He became a regular visitor to Illugastaðir and courted Sigríður, even though he already had a mistress, Þórunn, at home in Katadalur.
ILLUGASTAÐIR
Agnes and Sigríður became good friends, but neither of them felt comfortable in the dwelling, where Natan vented his wild temper on them. He accused Agnes of stealing four sheep and violently abused her, so she fled to another farm. She later had to return home to Illugastaðir and to apologise to the perpetrator, Natan, for leaving.
PREMONITIONS
"Natan dreamt a lot and often had bad dreams about himself. He said he had dreamt that an evil spirit had stabbed him in the gut, such dreams overwhelmed him and he always felt despondent afterwards."
Gísli Konráðsson - History of Natan Ketilsson (1892)
ILLUGASTAÐIR
Natan was a harsh master, whom Agnes and Sigríður feared. He ordered the teenage girl Sigríður to sleep with him whenever he felt like it, and she did not dare to do anything but obey.
ILLUGASTAÐIR
"He pulled down his trousers and slowly lifted his shirt above his head. His clothes lay scattered on the floor. Fle stood up again, and for a moment | thought I saw him move in my direction. But then he took two soft steps towards the window, and in the poor light I saw him draw back the covers of Sigga's bed."
Hannah Kent - Burial Rites (2014)
ILLUGASTAÐIR
In Illugastaðir there was a small so-called baðstofa, a communal two-bed room typical of Icelandic living conditions in the 19th century. Natan lived there with Sigríður, Agnes and a child called Þóranna Rósa, who was the daughter of the poet Rósa and Natan. Natan travelled extensively for medical purposes, and sometimes workers from other farms came to do farmwork while he was away.
Tour Eiffel éclairée aux couleurs du drapeau de la France en hommage aux victimes des attentas du vendredi 13 novembre 2015 perpétrés dans Paris et aux abords du Stade de France à Saint-Denis. Eiffel Tower lit with colors of the flag of France in tribute to victims of the bombings perpetrated Friday, November 13, 2015 in Paris and around the Stade de France at saint-Denis.
Adam and Hil were the first victims of the Portrait Project, which was perpetrated at the Barlow Wayside Trail.
Camera: Deardorff V8
Lens: 360mm Schneider
Film: Bergger Panchro 400 developed in Ilfotec HC
The post on my website about the portrait project is here
See my website for details if you live in northwest Oregon or southwest Washington, and you are interested in having your picture taken. Couples are preferred, but singles, or slightly larger groups are welcome.
# #pnwexplored #oregonexplored #pacificnorthwest #garyquay #cascadiaexplored #oregon #onlyinoregon #film #filmphotography #deardorff #largeformat #bergger #barlowwayside #viewcamera #portraitproject
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What happened three days ago is a very bad story, a 63-year-old man shot two women in the face, one 48 years old, the other 49 years old, and then took his own life, all of which happened in a town in the province of Catania, one of them allegedly had an extramarital affair with the killer: in 2022 120 women were killed, 97 of them were killed in the family or emotional sphere, of these 57 died for hand of the partner or former partner. This tragic and sad incipit linked to the ever-present drama of feminicides, to introduce the photographic story that I made in the town of Savoca (Messina - Sicily) on 08/13/2022, of a very particular representation that was held last time in August 2018; is a narration that pits Evil (a devil armed with a long grappling hook) against Good (Saint Lucia, who holds a silver palm leaf in her hands), the Evil-Devil tries to seduce-distract Saint Lucia with own grappling hook, instead Saint Lucia remains impassive in front of her flattery: violence against women in this very suggestive representation finds distant and deep roots, Saint Lucia actually represents those women who in medieval times had to suffer the abuses perpetrated by the Baron of Savoca nicknamed "Barone Altadonna", which making use of the law "ius primae noctis" (from the Latin "right of the first night"), referred to the "right" according to which a feudal lord could rape a newly married woman on her wedding night. Therefore, this is a photographic narration that speaks of the eternal struggle that takes place between good and evil, which speaks of a dark period of history, speaks of the violence suffered by women but also by those who belonged to the poorest social classes, historical facts that have been handed down to us in the form of a story and associated-transmuted in the martyrdom of Saint Lucia, this is what happens in the town of Savoca (Sicily). This is a report of the living representation of the martyrdom of Saint Lucia (patron saint of the city of Savoca); the cult of the young Saint of Syracuse seems to date back to the fifteenth century, under the influence of Spanish traditions. The living re-enactment of the history of St. Lucia takes place on two consecutive days, Saturday and Sunday: here I try to tell some moments of Saturday, the day during which the celebration does not take place in its full beauty, it is the day during which "the silver palm" is delivered "from the Lucia of the previous edition" to the "Lucia of the current edition", it is the day during which the last details are tested, above all the "impassivity of the little girl who impersonates Saint Lucia", lovingly called "the Lucia".. And 'This is a historical event which speaks of Demons and Angels: Saint Lucy refused to marry a rich and powerful suitor (Lucy declared She was married in Christ), which reported the Christian faith of Lucia to prefect Pascasio that ordered his Praetorian Guard to drag Lucia with a rope to a place of prostitution; legend has it that the Holy became heavy, they then tried to drag it with the help of oxen, but it was impossible to move it from where he stood; failing in this, it was then given the order to cavarle eyes, but the young martyr (native of Syracuse) her eyes reappeared.
In the village of Savoca a young girl, affectionately called the "Lucy" is carried on the shoulder of a porter along the streets of the country (sitting on a pillow tied on the shoulder of a man, but in fact men are two); the young Saint remains impassive in the face of demonic temptations: the Devil, called in Sicilian dialect "u Diavulazzu, shake, shakes, turns his pitchfork in an attempt to "distract" the Saint.
The first day of this representation, on Saturday, in an old church in Savoca, the two girls who impersonate the Lucia, of the current year and the previous year, meet with the delivery of palm; the traditional event which we witness on Saturday, has all the appearance of an important rehearsal for the next day, on Sunday when the traditional festival will take place in all its beauty.
Sunday: on top of the procession there are the "Jews" (the emissaries of the prefect Pascasio) along with some Angels, is located immediately after the wagon drawn by two cows from which branches off a rope that will arrive to Saint Lucia (a girl of six years); between her and the cows there are Roman soldiers, who make their way through the crowd squirming like crazy; to hold the rope there are also male figures; the job of Devil (his mask is made of wood, whose invoice is dated, it seems, of the 400') is to distract the little Saint with the help of a long stick equipped of curved points, called "u 'croccu": Lucia hardly is deceived by the promises of the evil one, she will not abandon the state of her property concentration, aided in this by staring, almost in a trance, a small palm branch in silver , she brings devoutly in her hands.It's very important to mention the Baron Baldassarre (nicknamed Baron Altadonna), who applied without any hesitation the practice of Jus de seigneur: using this law the Baron obliged the young brides to spend the wedding night in his alcove. It 'very possible that in the representation of Saint Lucia of Savoca the character of the Devil tempting young Santa with his pitchfork, in reality is nothing but himself, Baron Altadonna, so allegorically described in this traditional Sicilian feast: the figure of the Devil if one takes into account what historians relate, does not belong more to the legend, but sadly to actual event happened.
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E' una bruttissima storia quanto accaduto tre giorni fa, un uomo di 63 anni, ha ucciso a colpi di pistola in pieno volto due donne, una di 48 anni, l'altra di 49 anni, per poi togliersi la vita, il tutto accaduto in una cittadina in provincia di Catania, una di loro avrebbe avuto una relazione extraconiugale con l'assassino: nel 2022 sono state 120 le donne uccise, 97 di loro sono state uccise in ambito familiare o affettivo, di queste 57 hanno trovato la morte per mano del partner o ex partner. Questo tragico e triste incipit legato al sempre attuale dramma dei femminicidi, per introdurre il racconto fotografico che ho realizzato nella cittadina di Savoca (Messina - Sicilia) il 13/08/2022, di una particolarissima rappresentazione che si era tenuta l'ultima volta nell'agosto del 2018; è una narrazione che vede contrapposto il Male (un diavolo armato di un lungo rampino), al Bene (Santa Lucia, che stringe tra le mani una foglia di palma d'argento), il Male-Diavolo tenta di sedurre-distrarre Santa Lucia col proprio rampino, invece Santa Lucia resta impassibile davanti le sue lusinghe: la violenza sulle donne in questa rappresentazione molto suggestiva, trova radici lontane e profonde, Santa Lucia in realtà rappresenta quelle donne che in epoca medioevale dovevano subire gli abusi perpetrati dal Barone di Savoca soprannominato "Barone Altadonna", che avvalendosi della legge "ius primae noctis" (dal latino "diritto della prima notte"), si riferiva al “diritto” secondo cui un signore feudale poteva violentare una donna appena sposata durante la sua prima notte di nozze. Quindi questa è una narrazione fotografica che parla dell'eterna lotta che avviene tra il bene ed il male, che parla di un periodo buio della storia, che parla delle violenze subite dalle donne ma anche da tutti coloro che appartenevano alle classi sociali più povere, fatti storici che sono stati tramandati fino a noi in forma di racconto ed associati-trasmutati nel martirio di Santa Lucia, questo è quanto accade nel paese di Savoca (Sicilia). Questo è un report della rappresentazione vivente del martirio di Santa Lucia (Santa patrona della città di Savoca); il culto della giovane Santa di Siracusa sembra risalire al XV secolo, sotto l'influenza delle tradizioni spagnole. La rievocazione vivente della storia di Santa Lucia avviene in due giornate consecutive, il sabato e la domenica: qui tento di raccontare alcuni momenti della giornata del sabato, giorno durante il quale la festa non si svolge nel pieno della sua bellezza, è il giorno durante il quale “la palma d’argento” viene consegnata “dalla Lucia della edizione precedente” alla “Lucia dell’attuale edizione”, è il giorno durante il quale si testano gli ultimi dettagli, soprattutto si mette alla prova “l’impassibilità della bambina che impersona Santa Lucia”, chiamata amorevolmente “la Lucia”. E' questa una rievocazione storica che parla di Demoni ed Angeli: la storia rievoca di quando la Santa, si rifiutò di andare in sposa ad un suo ricco e potente pretendente (essendosi dichiarata Cristiana e sposa in Cristo), il quale per vendetta riferì della fede Cristiana di Lucia al prefetto Pascasio; costui diede ordine ai suoi pretoriani di trascinare Lucia con una corda fino ad un lupanare, un luogo di prostituzione; la leggenda narra che la Santa divenne pesantissima, si tentò allora di trascinarla con l'ausilio dei buoi, ma fu impossibile smuoverla da dove si trovava; non riuscendo in ciò, fu allora dato l'ordine di cavarle gli occhi, ma alla giovane martire (nativa di Siracusa) gli occhi le rispuntarono. Nel paese di Savoca una giovane ragazza, chiamata con affetto "la Lucia" viene portata in spalla lungo le vie del paese (seduta su di un cuscino legato sulla spalla di un uomo; in realtà gli uomini portatori sono due, dandosi il cambio l'un l'altro); la giovane Santa rimane impassibile di fronte alle tentazioni demoniache: il Diavolo, chiamato in dialetto siciliano "u Diavulazzu, agita, scuote, fa ruotare il suo forcone nel tentativo di "distrarre" la Santa ma, vani saranno i suoi tentativi. Il primo giorno di questa rappresentazione, il sabato, in una vecchia chiesa di Savoca, le due bambine che impersonano la Lucia, dell'anno in corso e dell'anno precedente, si incontrano con la consegna della palma da una bimba all'altra; l'evento tradizionale al quale si assiste il sabato, ha tutto l'aspetto di una importante prova generale per il giorno dopo, quando la domenica la festa tradizionale avverrà in tutta la sua bellezza. La domenica: in cima alla processione ci sono i "Giudei" (gli emissari del prefetto Pascasio) insieme ad alcuni Angeli, subito dopo si trova il carro tirato da due giumente dalle quali si diparte una corda che giungerà fino a cingere il fianco della bimba che impersona Santa Lucia (una bambina di sei anni); tra lei e le giumente ci sono i soldati Romani, che si fanno largo tra la folla dimenandosi a più non posso; a tenere la corda ci sono anche delle figure maschili che evitano che gli strattonamenti dei soldati romani possano giungere fino alla Santa (ricordiamolo, che è legata a quella corda); davanti alla Santa piroetta il diavolo tentatore, u' Diavulazzu (la maschera è in legno, la cui fattura è datata, sembra, del 400'), il cui compito è quello di distrarre la piccola Santa con l'aiuto di un lungo bastone dotato di punte ricurve, chiamato dialettalmente "u' croccu": Lucia difficilmente si lascerà ingannare dalle promesse del Maligno, non abbandonerà quel suo stato di immobile concentrazione, aiutata in ciò dal fissare, quasi in stato di trance, un piccolo ramo di palma in argento, che lei stringe devotamente tra le sue mani. E’ fondamentale menzionare tra i vari personaggi storici della tradizione, il barone Baldassarre, vissuto in Savoca in epoca medioevale, soprannominato barone Altadonna, che applicava senza remora alcuna la pratica della Jus primae noctis: avvalendosi di questa legge il barone obbligava le giovani spose a trascorrere la prima notte di nozze nella sua alcova. E’ fortemente ipotizzabile che nella rappresentazione di Santa Lucia di Savoca il personaggio del Diavolo che tenta la giovane Santa col suo forcone, in realtà non sia altro che egli stesso, il barone Altadonna, così allegoricamente descritto nella festa tradizionale siciliana: la figura del Diavolo, se si tiene conto di quanto narrano gli storici, non apparterrebbe più alla leggenda, ma a questo tristo personaggio realmente vissuto, che usava quotidianamente la moneta della prepotenza.
My emotional avatar right there.
For many years I’ve been struggling with my former time at school. The coercion, peer pressure, loneliness, the tribal culture and seeming chaos of random acts of cruelty and humiliation perpetrated by my peers deeply affected me. Add to that the bullying that was directed upon anyone observed to be either too smart or too dumb. So I ran silent and deep, tried to become invisible, did the minimum effort to receive a pass in my assignments, in constant fear of being cast out, rejected and mocked. After finishing school I felt cheated; I’d lost my chance at a career or even becoming who I might’ve been. I felt like a shadow. I felt like a failure. The bullies had won. I felt bitter and angry; I would resort to road rage to vent my aggression. In my mind I would become obsessed with questions like “Why” and “If only-“, I was trapped in my own past.
Through much counselling, reading and introspection, I had an epiphany recently. I realised that I’d survived. It sounds a so simple and a little quaint but I suspect that I had to be in the right place in order to realise the power of that statement. I was traumatised by school but I survived. Unfortunately many kids don’t. But I did, here I am. Suddenly the questions in my mind turned to “Now what?” and “What happens today?” Saying to myself that I survived something in the past gave me not only strength but focused me back on the present, the here and now. This moment here becomes important rather than trying to fix or resolve or find meaning in the past. That's a hugely powerful feeling for me and I’m proud of myself for surviving something I found so traumatic.
I don't know why it took me so long to get here but that's in the past now too. I don't know if this helps anyone reading it but if there's even the remotest, slightest possibility that it might, then it's worth sharing. Sharing our vulnerabilities makes us stronger, I think.
Hundreds of people packed the green at Wallbridge, Stroud today, Saturday, for the Stroud Love Not Hate rally.
Jagdish Patel, one of the organisers said: “The Stroud Love Not Hate Rally is a community event for people to stand in solidarity with people that are currently being affected by racial violence perpetrated by far-right rioters.”
Organisers stressed the event wasn’t a protest and was a ‘peaceful, non-political gathering and a show of support for those in our community who are feeling threatened or afraid because of recent well-publicised events.’
Stroud Red Band opened the event, followed by speeches from MP Dr Simon Opher; Stroud Against Racism; Pete Kennedy, Deputy Leader of Stroud District Council; Community Solidarity Stroud District; The RYSE; Rev Simon Helme from Dursley Tabernacle Church; Jeremy Green of Stroud Na’amod; Stroud Mutiny; Sue Oppenheimer from Stroud Together with Refugees; Andy Woolley from Stroud TUC, and Doina Cornell from Community Independents.
A rendition of We Shall Overcome saw an outpouring of emotions as people joined hands.
Robin Layfield, one of the organisers, told Stroud Times: “The experience of being here, surrounded by people who share a common sense of responsibility, of care and respect for one another, of community spirit and love – there, I say love – it’s been absolutely fantastic.
“We had a bigger turnout than we imagined, the speeches were stronger than we expected, and not a sniff of a counter protest. The police have been very supportive, and they had a very light touch approach to this, but they were with us all along the way. And I think the event went very, very well.
“Thanks to The RYSE for letting us use their PA. Thanks to Red Band for being a part of this, and just bringing the spirit, the singing at the end was just so moving. It’s beautiful.”
UNiTE to End Violence against Women and girls!
“As we commemorate International Women’s Day, we must look back on a year of shocking crimes of violence against women and girls and ask ourselves how to usher in a better future.
One young woman was gang-raped to death. Another committed suicide out of a sense of shame that should have attached to the perpetrators. Young teens were shot at close range for daring to seek an education.
These atrocities, which rightly sparked global outrage, were part of a much larger problem that pervades virtually every society and every realm of life.
Look around at the women you are with. Think of those you cherish in your families and your communities. And understand that there is a statistical likelihood that many of them have suffered violence in their lifetime. Even more have comforted a sister or friend, sharing their grief and anger following an attack.
This year on International Women’s Day, we convert our outrage into action. We declare that we will prosecute crimes against women – and never allow women to be subjected to punishments for the abuses they have suffered. We renew our pledge to combat this global health menace wherever it may lurk – in homes and businesses, in war zones and placid countries, and in the minds of people who allow violence to continue.
We also make a special promise to women in conflict situations, where sexual violence too often becomes a tool of war aimed at humiliating the enemy by destroying their dignity.”
--- Ban Ki-moon, UN Secretary-General
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MIND THE GAP.
An interactive data game that lets you explore the progress and pitfalls of girls’ and women’s education around the world. “learn more”.
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The new Indian census(2011), which put the population at 1.2 billion, has revealed an alarming trend. Rising incomes only seem to accelerate gendercide – the evocative term for the selective abortion of girl foetuses. There were 945 girls per 1,000 boys in the 1991 census, 927 in 2001 and now 914. It's now a crisis and we need to move beyond just acknowledging the issue.The PC & PNDT Act 1994 prohibits any form of sex-determination practise and sex-selective abortion.
According to the National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) of India; 89,546 cases of cruelty by husband and relatives; 21,397 cases of rape; 11,009 cases of sexual harassment and 5,650 cases of dowry harassment were reported in India during the year 2009.
Source: National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) India, 2009
Your voice matters. Say NO – UNiTE to End Violence against Women and girls!
Up to 70 percent of women may be abused in their lifetime. Tell governments that you want them to make ending violence against women a top priority. More than 5 million people already signed on to Say NO.
Add your name to become part of the global Say NO–UNiTE Network: “here”.
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Photo: Firoz Ahmad Firoz
Opening Act
The Wedding Crashers
Atonement
We were heading to a small resort that we had previously stayed a weekend at for a colleague’s wedding and reception.
This time it was Just Ginny and me on a whole 4 day escape from reality.
We were passing through one of the small villages on the way, when Ginny spotted a dress shoppe, with several mannequins wearing evening frocks. She had to stop, we had a function the next month and she had “nothing to wear”( Liar I thought grinning).
We went inside and on a “gently worn” rack she pulled out this long-sleeved green satin number and tried it on.
The young clerk said it was patterned after the one in the movie atonement ( which neither of us had seen) but its rich deep green( Irish green the clerk called it, which I had no idea was a colour) really set off Ginny’s long copper hair, and I liked the way her hair laid free in waves down her bare backside as she showed it to me after trying it on.
A few weeks later we watched the movie and discovered the gown was very similar but different than the one Ginny now owned, even though it had bare shoulders, this one also had long satin sleeves that started above the elbows and ending over the top of her wrists in a V shape that gave it a medieval appearance. The sleeves were held on by placing the Rings that were at the end of the sleeves V, worn over her middle fingers.
With Ginny’s new acquisition we arrived at the resort in the early afternoon and claimed our suite( paid for by an anniversary gift) and set out to explore the place.
The resort was a repurposed manor sitting upon a knoll overlooking a large spring-fed lake.
The manor and its extensive grounds had become too expensive to refurbish after being used for the war effort, and not considered important enough to be placed on the historic record.
Re-imagined as a getaway/event resort it has been returned to a lot of its former glory, including the surrounding hedges and maze of gardens.
The resort that weekend was packed, and we found out that among the events listed there were 2 evening wedding receptions taking place on Saturday. One in the great hall, the other in the royal ballroom.
Wedding receptions, Hmmm?
An Idea began to take seed and as we walked the gardens after supper, I found a way to bring it into the conversation.
Ginny had brought her dazzling collection of rhinestones (the ones some people thought were real diamonds) for a bit of date roleplay games in/out of, our suite some chosen evening of our stay.
After bringing her around to the subject of the dress she had just bought, I made an off-hand suggestion that she should give her gown and the rhinestones a try-out in public this weekend.
Mildly curious she stopped, looked at me, and asked “Where would I do that now, luv?”
I then laid out my game plan and a smile crept across her face, lit up by the sun poking through the trees on the wooded path we had been walking.
My lord she is beautiful, I thought.
Ginny has always welcomed an opportunity to dress up to the nines, and I used that trump card to my advantage.
We would play one of our usual damsel in distress play games.
Strangers meeting at one of the wedding receptions being held the late next afternoon.
I would role-play the thief to my Ginny’s victim.
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So late on the next Day found me slipping into character and infiltrating the larger of the two wedding receptions
It was around 5 pm after the reception had been in full swing for some time, and the guests were drunk enough not to pay too much heed to new faces in their crowd...
Spying a group coming in from the outside garden I slipped inside the royal ballroom where the reception was being held (crashed if you like).
I wondering over to the bar, paid for a drink, and waited, nursing it.
I was reasonably presentable in a grey tweed suit jacket, slacks, grey silk shirt, and grey silk tie that went a lighter shade at the Windsor knot, to a darker one at the end.
But I was still underdressed with most of the make guests in formal suits and tuxes, their ladies in gowns, and many sporting real jewels.
Security was also present in the form of a rental cop; a young lad who appeared to be taking his job far too seriously from what I observed. Yet he failed to even notice me!
As I waited I found myself pretty much unnoticed by everyone, which was a far cry from what Ginny encountered when she cautiously entered about 30 minutes later, green gown swirling, rhinestones all a glitter.
She looked like a treat.
Having had had the luxurious gown cleaned and pressed that morning and had herself spent the afternoon at the spa prettying up.
The gown fitted her rather well considering it had not been fitted, flowing down as she walked, like a shimmery green river of liquid satin.
From her collection of rhinestone jewelry, she had selected the fancy emerald and diamond necklace that was shaped in a thin gold lavalier style pattern set with a large center pear-shaped emerald and surrounded by smaller diamonds and emeralds ending in a dangling drop of a smaller pear-shaped diamond.
Ginny wore her long hair down from which earrings that matched her necklace, played a teasing game of glittery perk a boo.
She had finished it off with twin emerald and diamond cocktail rings, one for each index finger, and her favorite diamond rhinestone bracelet on her right wrist, fastened securely over the top of the gowns’ sleeve.
The decadent bracelet is something special, a real cracker that is dazzling when she wears it.
A five-strand diamond sparkler. The two outer strands were set with stones about 1 1/2 carats in size. The middle strand was set with 3-carat pear-shaped rhinestones.
My twin sister had bought it for Ginny’s birthday, from a site called Windsor Royal.
My sister had already bought one for herself a few years back and as Ginny was constantly borrowing it, she finally got one for her.
With Ginny coming in without escort, It didn’t take long for the sharks to start circling.
One lad, a shark-faced towhead, started a conversation, and I watched her squirm a little, before putting my drink down and coming to my damsel’s rescue.
I had to literally peel the bloke away from her.
Still acting as we had never met, I bought her a drink and we made small talk at the bar.
I could see out of the corner of my eye the tow-headed lad fuming, waiting his chance.
He finally finished his drink, giving him the nerve, and he marched over and tapping Ginny on the shoulder as he asked abruptly for a dance.
She sighed, then apologizing to me(with a wink) allowed herself to be escorted off.
I thoroughly enjoyed watching my Ginny on the dance floor, while waiting for the song to end.
The wanker was not a half-bad dancer. But Ginny shot me a look that said she needed rescuing.
So as the song died down I went to rescue my damsel, cutting in and taking her from the tow heads sweaty grip, for the next dance.
As we danced through that, and several more songs I could tell by the look in Ginny’s eyes that she was feeling the same fire within that I was.
Though my mind was totally off the game we had been playing.
But someone else’s mind was on their game.
We both could see my wife’s admirer, the towhead, glowering at me from the bar as he had several more drinks. Ginny found it amusing, and quite flattering.
Then a slow song started up and we danced close, dangerously close. So much so that by the time it ended we both decided to head outside to cool down.
As we headed off to the outside stone patio that led down into the back gardens, we were intercepted by Mr. Tow Head who, ignoring me, asked Ginny for another dance.
She smiled winningly as she laid her right hand on the lad’s shoulder ( her diamond bracelet sparkling in a frenzied fire) I saw his eyes dart down to look it over.
Ginny meanwhile was ever so sweetly apologized that she needed to take a break from dancing. But she had had such a lovely time doing so with him...
With that, he was dismissed.
Looking like a scolded pup, he shot me a glare over Ginny’s shoulder and reluctantly took leave of us.
But it would not be the last we heard of him.
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Ginny and I, hand in hand, went out on the crowded patio, weaving our way through the groups of the upper-class, well-dressed guests.
We went down the steps and took a deserted looking back path that we knew from previous excursions led down through the backside of gardens down to the lake.
The air was cool, the gardens alive with the chirps and sounds of its night denizens
We made our way to one of the stone benches that were placed about.
Sitting down we embraced and kissed. Taking care not to let our passions erupt into flame just yet.
But I will admit that my passion for the game afoot was reawakened, especially when her fancy earrings kept tapping the side of my face.
We sat on the bench holding hands, chatting on about our observations concerning the reception. I had wrapped my right arm around her and Ginny had snuggled in.
As we sat there I snatched looks over her dazzling display of jewelry. Thinking like my favorite role play character: a pickpocket thief, I considered the possibilities of trying a lift in order of easiest scenario (ring ) to the more difficult ones (earrings).
As we talked on, and my thoughts intensified, my left hand had begun gently stroking along her right arm.
Every so so often I included her bracelet and ring in my caressing, mesmerized by their sparkling show, mainly the bracelet.
One of the times I was slipping my fingers along the cool Stoney surface of her bracelet, I managed to finger open her diamond bracelet‘s safety catch.
I had made a start and a choice.
I held my breath as I did, but my victim kept on chattering away as if she didn’t notice.
Though my Ginny is a talented actress at our local theatre, and could be just playing her role, which was a victim who naively fails to notice my attempts at thievery until it was far too late.
It is never easy to tell, but I considered it a personal win if I could pull it off without my Ginny catching on!
But either way, it was too risky trying to steal anything from her just yet. I was bidding my time.
As well as Enjoying her enchanting company far too much.
Finally, she grew tired of sitting on the hard bench, I rise to offer my hand to her.
Taking my hand in her’s, failing to notice the dangling safety chain of her diamond-laden bracelet, she, with a swishing of her gown, rises next to me.
Straightening her luxurious gown as I watch, before again taking her by the hand ad we continue our way along the flower-lined path.
As we walked the enticing aroma of the still blooming garden flowers seemed to be swirling around us. Perhaps it was being pushed up by the rising dewy mist.
Ginny stops to bend over to smell a rose. I watch from behind as her dress tightens nicely along with her figure.
She held a rose up to smell with her left hand, automatically placing her right arm behind her back, unintentionally exposing her glittering bracelet to me.
I press up against her, my hands to her waist making her smile.
My right arm reaches around and taking the rose I tickle her nose.
As she giggled my left hand had already moved onto the diamonds wrapped around the satin sleeved of her right wrist. Moving a finger underneath I lifted up the bracket and with two fingers found and released the clasp. I then easily whisked off the bracelet from around Ginny’s wrist.
She let go of the flower as I pointed out a rather nice moss rose bush surrounding a gurgling fountain. As we looked I pocketed her diamond bracelet.
We walk on, continuing to admire the pretty flowers. Taking in their intoxicating fragrance.
As I enjoy the intoxicating feeling of having lifted jewellery from my victim.
Once we went full circle around the gardens, we headed back inside for a drink.
The reception was winding down.
We had just about finished our drinks when the lights of the room were suddenly dimmed. A few of the ladies gasped.
But then the announcement was made for the final dance. The song was “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers.
With a swishing and swirling of dresses and gowns, the ladies were escorted to the floor.
We also joined in and I drew Ginny close
It was quite a brilliant way to end the night before leaving the reception.
We spied Mr towhead dancing with a bridesmaid, obviously giving us both a once over. He decidedly was glaring at me over his partner’s shoulder...
I felt sorry that he didn’t appear to be giving his dance partner any notice. She was a nice-looking Lass, a bit full figure, but very pretty in her slinking salmon-colored silk gown and pearls.
I on the other hand was giving mine quite a bit of notice.
And sill in game mode, that attention Included her necklace. It would have been so easy. But our game rules only allow me to lift one item during the game.
Or all of her jewelry like a robbery, either or, one or all.
We went back after the dance and finished our drinks before packing up. ( for the record it was not an open bar that night).
We went out together; I spied the bloke sitting at a table, he had obviously been studying us while we were at the bar. I smirked to myself over his look of frustration.
“Ready to do the tally? “ I asked, as we regained the outside porch.
Ginny got a surprised look in her eyes and began to check herself over, necklace rings, wrist I saw her eyes enlarge as she saw it was a bare wrist, I knew I had taken it without her catching on, which was always a point scored for me in our game.
She had a delicious look in her eye as hers met mine.
“ My clever lad, I never felt you taking anything, my roguish gentleman.
Did you do it when we were in the gardens?”
I nodded
“On the bench. I thought you were all too attentive .”
“No, as you smelled a rose,” I replied
“Ahh, I forgot who I was turning my back to. Delicious moments for a thief. “
“And the victim?” I asked
“Yes, your prey found it all very enticing this evening. Let’s head to the lake shall we darling, do our tally there ?” Ginny took me by the hand as she spoke.
We started to walk along the light string lit outside wooden promenade, joining in along with several other ladies, charming in their gowns and frills, with their tuxedoed escorts, escapees all of us from the fast ending receptions.
Ginny felt exceptionally good as, with my arm around her, she cuddled into my side while we walked some distance.
But our bliss was not long, when Ginny, looking back, said a hotel security cop was heading our way.
Damn, I thought, pinched for crashing the reception.
The young rent-a-cop came up to us, and placing a firm grip upon my shoulder(or tried, I was a good foot taller, where do they find these blokes?) talked directly to Ginny.
“Everything alright then Miss?” he questioned Ginny, trying to sound professional, and he almost pulled it off, except he squeaked on the word Miss.
“Why yes,... ‘officer’ Ginny said, giving him a title he probably was not worthy of, as she was pouring on the charm( which is a quite frightful weapon in her capable hands),.
Gunny opened her eyes wide as she asked...
“Thank you for your lovely concern, but why do you ask? “
“I received a report that this man (the officer turned me to face Ginny) may have been bothering you, Ma’am...”
He said this without a squeak this time. He had been glaring at me, just like the tow-headed chap had been, snd I could feel his eyes drilling into my back.
I just grinned to myself waiting for Ginny to knock a ‘sixer’.
She smiled, her green eyes brite, and laying a hand on the “officers” chin, told him how adorable his concern was for her safety, but her husband is not that much of a bother most of the time.
“Husband !” he started, then stopped, caught his embarrassment nicely, then tried to save it.
“But Miss, The lad said you had lost a bracelet, possibly nicked by this gent here !? Er, Your husband?”
I knew the identity of “the Lad ”for at that moment the Mr. Tow head appeared from the shadows with a smug grin on his face, waiting to come to the attractive Lady’s rescue as the perpetrator ) was hauled off.
Whatever reaction he( or the towhead) had hoped the Lady’s would be upon him pointing out her missing jewels, it was not the one they got.
“That’s just precious, my husband, a jewel thief ?...”
“Oh as for that, I had almost forgotten about it.”
she continued raising her bare wrist, the green sleeve shimmering in the outdoor lights.
“The clasp came undone and it slipped off while we were out back walking in your gardens. So my husband took it for safekeeping, really, where else would I have put it?”
Ginny stepped back and let him look her over for evidence to support her statement.
“Game, Set and here comes the Match” I was betting while smirking to myself as Ginny winked at me
With the way, she looked in that satin gown, and her remaining jewels, plus her charm at full output, no mere mortal male would have been able to stand a chance to that form of attack.
Reluctantly releasing my shoulder the rental cop took a step back like he had been pushed.
We had now drawn a small crowd of interested guests.
“Well, all’s good then...” he choked out Behind my back.
“Just one more thing if you’d be a dear .”
Ginny winked at me...
“luv could d I have my bracelet back please?”
I pulled it out and handed it over, then stood next to her, facing them would be copper, my back to Mr. Towhead.
Ginny held up her right wrist in the rent a cop's face holding out the shimmering diamond bracelet to him with her other.
“I am so glad you were concerned about this. I would have hated to have had it nicked. So glad someone as handsome and strong as you are here to protect all of us ladies from nefarious Creatures lurking in the shadows with devious intent. “
As Ginny said this she looked over our crowd of gawkers.
Then she turned back to the red-faced rental pup.
“Could you please replace it for me?”
With everyone watching, he had no choice and accepted my wife’s bracelet.
He wrapped it around her wrist, fumbled a bit before managing to set the clasp. He did not do the safety chain, but I decided not to say anything and remained mute.
“Thank you,sir,” Ginny said sweetly
The chastised security pup nodded his head then he turned heel, and walked off hurriedly, like a scolded puppy with its tail between its legs.
Towhead came past us, running up to him saying Something in earnest as he looked back over at us.
The pup took tow head by the shoulder and brusquely walked him off.
We watched as our small group of onlookers dispersed, several nodding to us, no worries.
Ginny giggled, as I turned to face her...
“Well played my lovely Lass, well played. “
So once again, again with my arm around her and Ginny cuddling in, we continued our stroll, with Ginny letting out the occasional chordal of laughter over the whole incident.
It was a gloriously fine long walk before reaching an overlook over the lake, where a pair of swans was meandering about. A young lady in a long white dress with a glittering bracelet around one wrist was walking along the far end of the path that edged along the lake.
Ginny caught me looking, wanna do the path luv, she whispered in a most beguiling manner. We did so, and eventually found a rather isolated little nook behind a hedgerow.
Here I will have to leave to the reader's imagination what transpired there, for the only witnesses were the two of us and a rather surprised hedgehog who crawled out of his hole for a gander…
The night grew hot, then became much cooler, prompting us to finally take leave of our little sanctuary.
On our way back we once again stopped at the overlook.
“Time to tally up. Ginny said, smiling as she opened her silver lamer clutch purse, locating and pulling out a scrap of paper.
She showed it to me, on it was written the word necklace.
For her part in the game, she could have written any piece of jewelry trying to guess which one the thief would attempt to nick. Or just have written GB for Greedy bastard meaning he robbed it all from her
“UnLucky guess,” I said, though I did ponder over your necklace as we were dancing close. Probably a good thing I didn’t, what with that wanker watching over us.”
“ That would have been a wee bit harder to explain to security. Ginny said giggling, pushing her face into my shoulder.
Then she asked...
“So how did my thief do?”
At the bottom of the papers was a list of the jewels she was wearing. Each one had a letter of the alphabet A through F.
I pulled out a sheet of my own. Mine had A through F also. Next to each, I had either R for rhinestone or E for expensive. For our game, I was only allowed to use the letter E twice
We compared the notes and my two E letters matched the bracelet and her right hands ring
So in our play game scenario, the thief had stolen a valuable piece of jewelry from his victim.
So, since Ginny had guessed wrong the thief had got away, and with some “real” jewels.
The winner of the game then, by our rules, was me.
If Ginny had guessed the bracelet it meant the thief was caught. Ginny had written a necklace which meant the thief had gotten away and I won.
The winner decided on what we would do tomorrow night.
So there was a wee bit of method to our madness in playing games like ours.
“It’s been quite a weekend, jealous admirers, self-important security pups crashing a reception. A new dress” I said counting on my fingers
“And randy husbands,” Ginny whispered giggling.
With all that said and done, It was a lovely long walk back to our rooms.
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The next day having slept in late we went to the village pub for an early lunch
When going out in our long weekend jaunts we like to dress up like we are members of the leisure class, part of the setup for the role games we find mesmerizing to play.
I was wearing a brown suit coat, black turtleneck.
Ginny, looking quite fetching, had on a black velvet jumper, black stockings, and a long-sleeved green satin blouse. Her pumps were the same green as her blouse. Her jewelry was a collection of shiny mesh gold, with a brace of rather pretty rings.
As we waited for our food, I had a pint of Irish while my wife was having the local wine.
Clearing my throat after downing a swig, I began to broach the subject of my idea for our plans for tonight.
“So, as the winner of last nights game “I started, but never got a chance to finish as Ginny placed a hand to my chin, lifting my head with a mischievous look in her eyes and a wry grin on her face
“Technically you were caught red-handed my thief. “
“True, but that was not part of the game” I tried to argue, unsuccessfully, by the look in my love’s green eyes.
She placed a ringed finger to my lips hushing me.
I took her finger and looked at the ring, an imitation emerald surrounded by rhinestone diamonds.
“Lovely ring that. “ I said
Don’t change the subject laddie. You had your spot of thievery yesterday. And were caught admit it “. She was giving me a wickedly devilish smile as she said this, then added.
“But at least in the game the jewels were real, it would be a shame for a thief to go through all that troubles only to be caught stealing a rhinestone bracelet. Wouldn’t you say now? “
Who could argue with that?
Needless to say, I conceded the game
She soon went inter her well-thought-out plans.
A walk slow walk around the lake.
A carriage ride in the country
Posh dinner and dancing to cap it off.
And she agreed to again wear the atonement gown if I wore my tux.
“Oh,” she said, fingering her ring. Then looking up at me smiling. Added ...
“I heard a lady had her diamonds nicked last night, I suspect he may be still in the area ... I should practice my hiding skills from thieves, say late this evening, around the ruins in the woods overlooking the lake?”
There was a no-brainer if I ever heard one.
The Himba are Bantu people settled in northern Namibia, mainly in the Kaokoveld. Traditionally Himbas are tinged with red skin ointment made of animal's fat and hematite powder. This ointment protect themselves from the heat of the sun, dry air, insects
In 1904, the Herero peoples to which they belong, and Nama people were victims of the first genocide in history, perpetrated by the Germans settlers in Namibia: 85,000 people were exterminated between 1904 and 1907.
Red Herrings :
The Final Act
Act Five - The Pygmalion Ring
At 10:10 am the Phone rang on the Chief Inspectors desk. It was the sergeant, whom had gone to the town house with the director to search for clues. It appeared that a rather nosey older neighbor lady had been keeping a detailed track for the townhouse owner of all the comings and goings in a small notebook.
Including all of the license plate numbers with descriptions of all the vehicles that had been coming and going. Included in the lot was the red Mercedes of a rather nice looking lady with red hair who had been there the previous morning!
So it was that the first real tangible clue of the troupe of pickpockets/kidnappers, whom had run amuck like wolves amongst the easily distracted sheep that were the wealthy guests in attendance that fateful evening at St. Davids Chambre, was discovered.
It took less than 2 hours to trace the Mercedes to an airport rental. A group of officers swarmed the rental agency demanding to see its records. The Mercedes had been rented out late Thursday evening, by a visiting priest who gave the address and phone number of the Cathedral of Eastminster as his place of residence during his stay.
The auto had been dropped off Sunday afternoon. The office had been closed, the key dropped off in a box. No idea really by whom..
The Mercedes, was still parked out back, just now being cleaned for an afternoon pickup.
The detective dispatched men to locate and impound the rental, while he went into the airport.
All outgoing flights made on the previous Thursday and Sunday afternoon were noted, most of them had been to and from the states.
Names of the fight attendant’s were taken down, and perpetrations made to have them all interviewed.
The detectives who had been sent for the car, found it with all the doors open, as well as the trunk, while a man was bust vacuuming out the interior.
He was stopped and asked questions about the vehicle.
The condition of the interior had been pristine, the outside however had been caked with mud at one time, and the auto had been run through a wash before being returned.
There was no real garbage, inside, he answered a bit awkwardly. The detective pounced on him, what garbage was there then sir? He shrugged, and going to a waste bin, pulled out a small film canister.
The detective could not believe his eyes! You were going to toss this mate? He asked quite sharply.. the cleaner shrugged, less trouble ain’t it, than trying to find an owner, who probably was a thousand miles away now?
The detective clucked his tongue in disbelief. Called the tow yard to have the vehicle impounded, and took the film canister, now bagged as evidence, to the officer in charge.
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The film canister was handed over to the chief Inspector who carefully had the bomb disposal squad open it. It only contained a single reel of film.
The director and the cameramen were pulled into a conference room, where all three identified the canister as belonging to them, however the film spool inside was not!
Confused, the film was taken in and examined. It was old footage of a ballroom, but indeed not that of of St. Davids Chambre. Mysteriously it was the 3rd reel of an old b/w move, titled Pygmalion, the original movie version made from the Bernard Shaw play.
The reel depicted the ballroom scene, referring to a street girl being passed off as a member of royal society, fooling all the experts in such matters. What this actually had to do with the case was one of many mysteries never solved, but it gave the absconded gang their name.
The Pygmalion Ring
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So ends our tale.
At least for those of you who have seen through the Red Herrings and have discovered the clues pointing to what had happened to the 3 missing Ladies that fateful Saturday Evening. You already know the answer to the mystery and may not even have had to read this far…. SO HERES TO A JOB RATHER WELL DONE!
However, for those of us who have not possibly had the time to play detective, and wish to know what had happened… Please by all means read on below………………..
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As the Chief inspector, his detectives, and a quite exasperated Superior, were watching the contents of the Mysterious reel of film..
The Chief Inspector thought to himself, what could have happened to the thieves and their captives? He watched the movie for a few seconds… someone not as she seems, playing a role, fooling the experts, all by appearing to be one thing, and at the same time….! Oh my God he exclaimed, and all eyes turned upon him….. I know where they are being held, the girls who disappeared.
And he started to bark out orders, for the first time feeling he was in control of the situation.
Meanwhile, as the Chief Inspector was having his Epiphany, the afternoon post arrived.
And 30 minutes before that, the afternoon post had also arrived at the office of the Bishop of the Eastminster Diocese...
Now amongst the bundles of his excellency’s mail was a letter , an envelope with the Bishop’s name and address, but instead of handwriting or typing out the address, it had been pasted upon the envelope with cut out letters from a magazine.
The Bishops assistant opened the rather puzzling envelope and extracted an equally puzzling missive.
Inside was a note made on the stationary paper with the heading of the Eastminster Catholic Diocese. Using the same letters cut from the same magazine, it said simply
Time to Aire out the basement of St Davids green door stone cottage
The Bishop’s sassistant rang the Chief Inspector, catching him just as he had entered his office to grab his jacket.
Already on our way there he said almost cheerfully ( pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together)
As the police arrived at the cottage, they met and elderly nun coming out, face an ashen white. She mumble something about knocking and scratching about on the basement door , rats methinks, or worse !?
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The good officers and constables of Eastminister CID quickly went inside.
The cottage had been used for small gatherings with tables and chairs stacked neatly up against the walls, a small kitchen was set up in one corner.
At the far end was a small, thick wooden door with old wrought iron hinges and a bolt that was thrown shut and locked with an ancient key padlock. The skeleton key dangled from a peg next to the door. Said door was the source of the rather weak knocking.
Upon opening the basement door, three rather disheveled, long hair loose and tangled, ladies tumbled out. All three wearing nothing but their thin silken underclothes.
The three ladies, of course, were the missing twin daughters of the Baroness and the multi- Millionaires young wife. The three were given jackets, and hot tea was made in the small kitchen.
The Chief Inspector, with the blessings of his superior, held off notifying their families so that proper statement could be gathered without interferences.
It appeared that the women had been rather keen upon meeting the handsome actor in person, along with probably a few dozen other ladies in attendance
Apparently the group of pickpockets, in addition to lifting their jewels, were also gathering information on those ladies with the desire to personally meet with the rather charming actor. These three had been weeded out for selection and approached, obviously not just because of their overwhelming interest in a private meeting, but also because they were wearing an overwhelmingly pricy collection of jewels.
The priest had been talking to the Millionaire’s wife at the back of the crowd, and had managed to steer the conversation to meeting the actor, whom, he implied, personally knew. The wife had seen him talking and coming in with the film crew and assumed he was quite right.
He had told her that he would arrange the meeting at the stone cottage just outside the gardens. The two went off together.
Meanwhile the dark skinned Romeo had come across one of the twins watching the autograph hounds in action ( red satin gown), and had found out she was also interested in meeting the actor. He had taken the pretty lady over to the cameraman to see if it could be arranged. A blind ruse to lure his victim ever closer into his confidence.
After being turned away by the cameraman, her friend in the fancy tux “happened” to spy the priest walking with a lady in green. He had led her over and asked the good father that since he knew the film crew, could a meeting of the actor be arranged.
The “good priest balked for a minute… than smiled cheerfully in the heavily made up eyes of the lovely twin…
As it so happened he was actually in the process of arranging a meeting. The Priest felt that one more would be okay, but not to say anything to anyone else. The twin asked if her sister could come along. The priest had given her a quite long, thoughtful look, and after much ponderonce , reluctantly said ok.
He had told the gentleman wearing the fancy tux to collect the girl’s sister, and take the 3 to the cottage while he collected the actor. And again advised them not to utter a single word to anyone.
The four arrived at the cottage and waited in the shadows off to one side.
They had heard a whistling, and the Romeo had told them to wait and went around the corner. The girls had heard a thunk, then something hitting the ground. The next thing they knew a pair of black clothed, figures wearing black cat masques , appeared on either side , surrounded them , and had told them to be quiet and no one else would be hurt. They then herded the 3 terrified ladies around to the front, where Romeo laid out cold upon the ground.
They were led past him, to the now open green door and told to get inside quick.
Once inside, the three ultra-wealthy victims were told to hand over their jeweled designer purses , their purses all together were worth nearly £100,000 alone !….
Then they were, in turn cordially, but sternly, asked to remove all their valuables. Each in turn places the extremely valuable jewels they had been wearing, into the purse held opened by one of the thieves…. The purses were then placed in a black travelling satchel, along with the diamond Tiara, which had been gently pulled from the wife’s head. ( the total of their jewels came to just shy of £550,000) !
The 3 now dejeweled Ladies were than instructed to strip off their, expensive personally tailored, designer gowns, and these also were stuffed inside the satchel, along with their pricey spiked heels ( these items totaled £85,000)
Then, stripped down to their knickers, they were told to march barefoot inside, then down to the dank, dirt floored basement below ground.
It hadn’t been a bad time imprisioned down there, nor good either, after the door had been shut and bolted home on them.
The windowless basement had a few wooden chairs, a small work bench ( no tools) with a small candle for light with a book of matches ( from St Davids). There was a jug of water, two bottles of wine and some liver pate with sour dough brea also placed upon that bench. A small service loo with rusty water was located at one end, with the basements lone, long ago bricked up, window.
Aside from being freaked out when hearing a scurry of mice now and then, the three were certainly no worse for wear… despite never in their lives ever coming close to such squalid living conditions!
They had had no way of telling time, and had thought it been about 4 days that they had been held down there. All three had been surprised that it had only been less than 2 days….
They was really , nothing more to their story.
The one twin who had been wearing the red gown, and the millionaire’s wife who had worn the luxurious green taffeta gown, both recalled dancing with the Romeo in the fancy tux, though neither could remember his name, there had been so many they had danced with after all. Nor did they recall, aside from him complementing them on their dresses, that he had taken any special interest in their jewels, nor anyone else for that matter.
The Detective Chief Inspector surmised that these lambs had been left alone from any trimming, instead saved as proper candidates to be lured away for a bit of wolfish shearing down to the silken flesh.
The three were then released, and returned to their grateful families, the constables dismissed from any further surveillance. There would of course, never be a ransom demand, for that was not in the Pygmalion Rings card deck…
Once a tally had been made of all the missing, and known stolen items, the rather staggering total came to over £ 1,350,000 pounds in jewels and other pricey valuables that had been lifted and acquired by the gang. Which made one think about what the grand total of all the jewels worn that evening would have been! And most of it ripe for the plucking by such nimble fingered thieves! Ones who had had such a bloody cheek to plan and pull of such a well-planned endeavor.
The producer, his camera crew and the actors were all cleared and released, the authorities soon realizing that they had been the patsy’s for a for more organized ring of thieves. It is believed the stolen gems never left the country, but whomever eventually fenced them was not amongst the ones known to the authorities.
The flight attendants days later were interviewed, none of them=m could clearly remember any passengers fitting the descriptions of the priest, the smarmy Romeo, or the two mysterious ladies…
Composite Pictures drawn from witness accounts had by now had been made and circulated, none ever coming close to being identified. Though one of the twins thought a lady looked a bit like one of their temporary parlor maids.. But no one could remember the lass’s name, or even how long or when the time she had been employed was.
Servants should be seen and not heard after all!
The police were at a standstill, a standoff with an unknown enemy. But in the Easminster’s CID’s defense, Thr Pygmilion ring’s heist had been at least 2 years in the making, considering that at least one of its suspected members had been in attendance the year before at the same function.
They area around the Stone Cottage was scoured far more thoroughly.
A small path that had been noted earlier , leading, but not walked, which led into the woods from the backside of the stone cottage.
It was now followed for some distance and at one point a branch path led off it and onto the road.
Crossing the road the searches found a driveway that led to a small rubbish area. Two sets of tyre tracks were found. One was never matched, but believed to belong to a small sports type car, possibly a jaguar coupe, about 20 years old. the other set matched the airport rental that had contained the film canister….the mud found on the rental auto also matched the area…..
Further investigation revealed that the magazine used was an Eastminster Diocesan magazine, and the article the letters were cut out from was one that told about the annual charity ball held at St . Davids? So they Pygmalion Ring had a bit of a sense of humour.
There was also discovered, a thumbprint on the letter. , which for a time greatly excited the local authorities… Until it was discovered that the thumbprint belonged to The Bishop of the Diocese of Eastminister!
Another unexplained mystery, or one last red herring ( The Bishop had never seen the letter, his secretary had called the police, his fingerprints were also found)
With their daughters and wife safely returned, the pressure was let off by the families. The insurance companies squawked a bit, but then there is no ever pleasing that lot!
It has now been three years since the heist, and Interpol feels that the time is quite ripe for the gang to strike again, somewhere in the world where large gatherings of the wealthy and privileged will be taking place. A formal event where copious displays of jewels will be worn by the female guests, like so many shimmering lures to attract the like of them !
But even though most of the leads in the original case proved to be so many red herrings left by the Pygmalion Ring , the police still maintain confidence that justice will prevail, even though the reality of the matter is that the original trail is growing ever colder…….like ice!
Quand on rencontre un mystère, on croit généralement être scélérats cachés
“When one encounters a mystery, one generally believes to be hidden scoundrels”
Author Unknown
The End (Fini)
Loma, Fruita, Colorado; Using Abusing Pets and Children
I had just moved to another campsite. I stayed close to the road, anticipating the spring rains. I had the dash-cam on, while checking out the site.
What you’re looking at is a collage, of a woman abusing her dog; to harass mine. If you triple click on the collage, it will enlarge for better viewing.
If you look closely at the 1st picture (top left frame); she is stopped in her van, just on the other side of the hill. She let her dog out, and coaxed it over to her side of the van. You can see this, in the 2nd frame.
The 3rd and 4th frames, the poor dog, runs back over to the passenger side, wanting in. The 5th frame, she stopped and coaxed her dog, back over to the driver's side. With her arm hanging out of her window. She does this, because Koda is on his cable, outside our motorhome.
The 6th frame, with the dog on her side; she continues driving towards us. I hear her yelling; you can see the dog wanting to come towards us.
In the 7th frame, she is reaching out further to the dog. As she drives pass our motorhome. I was in the motorhome, saw her, and grabbed my camera. I started taking pictures. She sees me in the rearview mirror; hit’s the gas, and leaves her dog, eating her dust. You can see this in the last frame.
I saw the woman earlier; coming from the opposite direction, as we were looking for a dry, solid spot to set up camp. This is one of the many, many examples; of Americans, using their pets, to harass a Target. Two days later, as I was setting up my solar panels; the same van, zooms by with a male driver, all waving and laughing.
I also had someone tampering with my propane tank, causing my refrigerator, to shut off. I would have to reset the LP switch, to get it to come back on. Each time we went out; Koda, would go over to the cargo door, where my LP tank is and sniff all around it. We also found footprints, coming from the other side of the road. There was no access, for any kind of vehicle, on the other side. Just a steep ravine, gong down a steep bank. I called the Sheriff’s department, told them about people harassing Koda, and my LP tank.
I got excuses, defending the perps using their dogs. The road is full of hills, and curves; obstructing views. The Deputy, I spoke with, even said it’s a busy road. But apparently, this is not animal abuse. He can come up with all the excuses in the world. What this woman was doing; was, trying to get my dog to chase after them, and abusing her dog, while doing so. It's a favorite pastime for Gangstalkers in this area. They did send a Deputy, when I called the 2nd time, for tampering with my LP, and frig.
This is one of the many problems; when trying to report Gangstalking, and Mobbing. Law Enforcement; repeatedly makes excuses, defending the actions, of the perpetrators. I’ve witnessed this 1st hand, from State to State. Harassing and interfering with a Service Dog, is a crime. But, all I get is excuses, defending these sick, sadistic, narcissist. Even, when I report them using children, to do the same. I get excuses, defending their actions, or no return phone calls.
Look at the level of hate in this country. When it comes to mass shootings; many of the shooters, have been bullied, beyond belief. They have been traumatized in their schools, their neighborhoods, their workplace. I am in no way defending them, or condoning their actions. Some want to blame it on guns, others on mental illness. You push and push, a person, take everything they have to live for; they are going to be dangerous. The media and law enforcement won't tell you this. It’s the truth. It happens in the workplace, and has been perfected in our communities. Now, we have Mobs of people (Gangstalkers), doing it in our neighborhoods, our community's. Ridding them of anyone, they deem not worthy. These Preps, are from all walks of life. Affluent, Middle Class, Republicans, Democrats, it doesn’t matter.
Today, as Koda and I, headed out for a walk. As soon as we get a distance from our new camp, the Village Idiots of Loma, and Fruita, Colorado; start pulling their skits. We get the circling airplane. The Bottom Feeders, start driving back and forth, on the distant Highway. One pulls up to the BLM gate. Lets their dogs out, and they begin to bark and howl. In hopes, it draws Koda to them. Fortunately, he’s smarter, than they will ever be.
On a brighter note; my photostream just hit 4 million views. Thanks so much to all that visit. You guys are alright, sometimes.
All content in our photostream; is free to download, copy, share and print. Please, leave my logos on them. Violence is not the answer. Exposing those involved in Gangstalking, is.
Ohhh, who doesn't enjoy a trip to Walmart? This could be any store that Koda and I visit, but this is our last visit to this store, last week. This was on a Sunday evening, after 8:00 pm. It was just like the previous visit, and the one before it, and so on, and so on. I know I crammed a few pictures in here. These are just a few of the hundreds, from this visit. It comes to a point, I could make 30 some collages, or take some of the most predominant, and go with one. I didn’t even cover our arrival, or departure, I may do one on that too, because these Perpetrators; repeat the same acts, the same scripted comments, from state to state. For best results; double-click on the collage, to enlarge.
From top to right: The first picture is of two young males. I don’t call them men, because I’ve served with real men and women. Anyway, these wannabes, come towards Koda and I. Koda is on my left side, close. The two come walking closer, the male in the Orange, comes way too close, in the second picture. He also has an electronic item in his hand. Koda is used to this and won’t react. But the male has something that caused Koda to growl. Koda pushes against my leg, moving me against the shelves to my right. He stayed at my side, continued to growl, as they passed. Once they passed, they started to laughing. The guy in Orange, also had a backpack, as you can see, in the 3rd picture. This has happened time and time again; by 20 something, wannabes. Usually ridding pass us, on a bike with a backpack. It’s electronic stimuli, trying to make Koda aggressive; he’s not...
The 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th pictures, are a group of 3, 20 something wannabes. They are blocking and crowding us at the pillar/post, to the right. They show up from aisle, to aisle, spreading across the aisle, blocking as I try to get through. The 9th picture is what happens when I come to the end of an aisle. Someone will be waiting to dart out in front of us, blocking us. Again, Koda and I are used to it, he will actually pause and wait, until I say; right or left, then turn in that direction. The 10th picture is the same group of 3, waiting again for me in another aisle.
The 11th picture; is a female who shows up at the spice rack. I’m looking for ground Korean red pepper, but unable to find. She stops at our side, pulls out her phone quickly, starts texting. She then starts stepping in front of us, reaching out, taking items off the self, then putting them back. We are completely blocked, and patiently wait; Pictures 12 and 13. Once she does move, an older female shows up, with a young male, that throws his arm out, pointing; picture 14. He then steps in front of us, blocking and causing us to still wait, until he grabs something.
Picture 15; are the same 3 wannabes, from above, coming back around.
Pictures 16, 17 and 18; are the same female from the spice rack. She came to another aisle, to do the same. Picture 19; is a guy that does circles, so he can point his phone camera at me. We get this a lot, I mean; a lot. Picture 20, with Koda’s back; are the same 3 wannabes, watching at the end of another aisle.
Pictures 21, 22 and 23; are of a guy with a long rope, or lanyard. He waits at the end of an aisle, then comes walking towards us. He, like the other, come very close, even though there is plenty of room to their right. As he comes close to Koda; he swings the rope, then reaches for his face quickly. Making fast, what could be aggressive movements, to a dog. This has been done so many times, Koda doesn’t react.
Pictures 24 and 25; are another 3, different wannabes. The woman is watching me struggle, placing a case of water, on the bottom of our cart. They wait in the aisle, then block me, as I try to get through.
Pictures 26, 27, 28; are the same 3, watching me, as I get eggs and orange juice. They will show back up. Picture 29; is what I call a pocket perp. They will exaggerate, a hand, or both, in their pockets; as they walk by, or block us. You will see him again too.
Pictures 30, 31, 32, 33; are 2 guys. The guy in the tan shirt; does the double pocket skit. And, there’s a group of people blocking ahead. The 2 guys come towards Koda and I. The guy in the gray shirt and black cap; also has a long rope, like object, in his left hand. He, too, swings it at Koda, as they pass. I know, Mr FBI guy, who hangs up on people, trying to report Domestic Terrorism in America; it's just a coincidence. Your lack of action emboldens these parasites!
In picture 33, are the same 2, clear at the end; watching me, in another section. They are waiting and watching for what is about t happen.
Picture 34, it’s hard to see, through the shopping cart; are the 3 wannabes, that blocked me in the bottled water section. There was also another couple that blocked us, as we came into the water aisle. Then, again, at the end of another aisle. Her boobs were a little to pert, and shirt to tight, so I didn’t add them. Anyway, the 3 wannabes, are watching Koda and I, at the meat section. The woman in the Orange shirt (these perps love certain colors, it’s another way of sensitizing their Target), waits until I’m occupied, selecting meat; then runs from a distance, towards and pass Koda; picture 35. In picture 36; her buddies watch Koda’s and my reaction. Koda didn’t flinch. Man, he’s got a good trainer.
In picture 37; is the first Pocket Pirp, I addressed. He, and his buddy, are waiting in produce. We will get a whole battalion of these half-wits, waiting for us in produce. The two; are watching Koda and I, to see, where we go. Picture 38; is a female with the phone camera skit, in produce. I asked a young employee, where the sweet onions were. By the time we got there; the Pocket Perp, and his buddy, are completely blocking me from entering that asile; picture 39.
Picture 40; is another wannabe. We are heading to checkout, we had paused, expecting this. He walks across in front of us, with and empty shopping cart. Leaving the store, phone to his butt-cheek.
Pictures 41 and 42; are another Pocket Perp. He’s rushing to cut across, in front of us, at the checkout lane.
While Koda and I checked out; Koda lay to the front of our cart, as taught. Boy, he has a good trainer. While he lay there; two couples show up behind us. The first crowding, at the register conveyor. The 2nd, right on their butt-cheeks. Something caused Koda, to jump from the floor. I couldn’t hear it, but he jumped up, looked directly at the 4, behind us.
This only shows a little, of what we go though, in public places. Like I said, this could have been at any store, or restaurant. On this trip, the young Walmart employees, that I asked for assistance; were very courteous and helpful.
I have 1000s of clips like this; most showing more detail, and complete acts. The Army trained me well in Reconnaissance and Surveillance. So, Mr FBI Guy, from the Cheyenne, Wyoming Domestic Terrorism Line, if you need a little training; I’m sure you have my number. Being chased down by convoys of Perpetrators; some flashing the White Supremacist Signs, others wearing caps with “Our Politicians Are Afraid Again”, IS DOMESTIC TERRORISM.
Being Mobbed from store to store, state to state, having my Service Dog, Tormented, Tortured and Baited; IS DOMESTIC TERRORISM. Adults Teaching and Coaxing Children to do the same; IS DOMESTIC TERRORISM. Being constantly Buzzed and followed by Airplanes and Helicopters; IS DOMESTIC TERRORISM. Gang Stalking; IS DOMESTIC TERRORISM. Using Direct Energy Weapons on US Citizens, on US Soil; IS DOMESTIC TERRORISM and TORTURE.
I thought this was America, but we have become a Nation of; Do As We Say, Not As We DO! Other Nations see this, and know this. As a Nation; we have gone from a World Leader, to a F-ing Joke. Just turn on your TV. For exposing the truth; Americans are now TORTURED.
Is this what you want for your loved ones?
In my next post; I will cover the many symptoms of Direct Energy Weapons Attacks. Once again, our Government and many of its Agencies; want us to believe it's only happening to Diplomats and CIA Agents, overseas. Many, many, of us know better and History is on our side. I am paying heavily for these post; by Extreme Electronic Weapons Attacks.
And, for the Perp that left the role of Aluminum Foil, behind our Motorhome today; Bite Me.
Thanks for visiting our photostream.
"The true culprit has been caught, the perpetrator was captured on the side yard security cam. The raccoon is currently at large and listed as a fugitive on the loose." -Tomitheos
Amputation is the intentional surgical removal of a limb or body part. It is performed to remove diseased tissue or relieve pain.
Disarticulation: separation of a joint without cutting through a bone.
L'amputazione è la rimozione di una parte del corpo o di tessuto a seguito di un trauma o di un intervento chirurgico. Nel caso di un provvedimento chirurgico viene effettuata per controllare il dolore o un processo di malattia nell'arto interessato in casi di tumore o cancrena o, in determinati casi, viene eseguita per prevenire particolari problemi.
La disarticolazione è un'amputazione senza taglio dell'osso.
Wikipedia
Best View On Large here: farm4.static.flickr.com/3584/3310969227_ec6de403f0_b.jpg
Pentax Asahi 6x7 - Pentax 135mm - Studio Flash - Fuji Neopan Acros 100 ISO b/w negative film - Silver Print on Ilford FB IV Glossy; 18x24 Print
See the Whole Set "V or P?" here: up.flickr.com/photos/14206443@N05/sets/72157615490651292/
See the Whole Set "Medium Format" here: www.flickr.com/photos/14206443@N05/sets/72157604177437963/
every 28th of may the newspaper seller who owns the kiosk near piazza loggia displays a collection of old newspapers from the day after the bombing.
brescia doesn't forget
piazza loggia is a beautiful square in brescia downtown.
on the 28th of may 1974 an antifascist demonstration was held there. during the meeting, a bomb exploded, killing 8 people and injurying more than 100 people.
the perpetrators of this act have not been convicted yet.
we don't forget and we don't forgive. we're still claiming for justice.
brescia no olvida
plaza de la loggia es una hermosa plaza en el casco antiguo de brescia.
el 28 de mayo de 1974 hubo una manifestaciòn antifasciasta. durante la reuniòn una bomba explotò; murieron 8 personas, y màs de 100 resultaron heridas.
los culpables de este hecho todavìa no han sido condenados.
nosotros ni olvidamos ni perdonamos: aùn seguimos exigiendo justicia.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_della_Loggia_bombing
172/365
perpetrator: Thomisus onustus
victim: Apis mellifera
crime scene: Anemone coronaria
1st place in the Wildlife Photography in Greece Photo of the Month competition for March 2012, in the "Invertebrates" category. Another photo of mine got 2nd place, too :)
Im Wiener Kurier Zeitung wurde es heute von der Polizei im zweiten Bezirks Wien berichtet, daß eine sechsjährige Katze unter Untersuchungshaft festgenommen werde. Eine Fliege sei ums Leben gekommen. Unter Verhör hat sie behauptet, daß der Täter ein nebenan-wohnender Kater verantwortlich sei. Die Ermittlung geht weiter. Es gilt die Unschuldsvermutung.
🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀 🙀
Editors note: Since Dory is a British Short Hair breed, she was interviewed under caution via an interpreter. On being asked if she was the perpetrator of this reprehensible crime, she replied:
"I is NOTTS gilty! That other cat who lives next door didded it! it tasted terrible anyways! ----- OOPS!"
Yesterday he bit the handyman and chewed up a potholder and an ink-pen. Beware of doggerals that are given to you...
PLEASE, NO invitations or self promotions, THEY WILL BE DELETED. My photos are FREE to use, just give me credit and it would be nice if you let me know, thanks.
Memorial for Sinti and Roma: More than 19,300 Sinti and Roma were murdered by the Nazis at the Auschwitz-Birkenau extermination camp alone. Around 5,600 of them were sent to the gas chambers. Over 13,600 died as a result of the inhuman living conditions, hunger, disease with many also falling victim to the infamous experiments conducted at the camp, in particular Josef Mengele’s notorious experimentation with twins.
371 children were starved to death. It was the method requiring the least effort by the perpetrators. It occurred without them having to do anything, they simply denied food. Not one of the 371 children who were born between February 1943 and August 1944 at the ‘Gipsy Camp Auschwitz’, survived.
The memorial was designed by Israeli artist Dani Karavan in 1992 and includes a round reflecting pool surrounded by broken slabs of stone. In the pool's center is a triangular platform supporting a single flower. Once a day, the platform sinks below the surface and returns with a fresh flower.
Red indian.... a member of the race of people living in America when Europeans arrived
The indigenous peoples of the Americas are the descendants of the pre-Columbian inhabitants of the Americas. Pueblos indígenas (indigenous peoples) is a common term in Spanish-speaking countries. Aborigen (aboriginal/native) is used in Argentina, whereas "Amerindian" is used in Quebec, The Guianas, and the English-speaking Caribbean.[21][22][23][24] Indigenous peoples are commonly known in Canada as Aboriginal peoples, which include First Nations, Inuit, and Métis peoples.[25] Indigenous peoples of the United States are commonly known as Native Americans or American Indians, and Alaska Natives.[26]
According to the prevailing theories of the settlement of the Americas, migrations of humans from Asia (in particular North Asia)[27][28] to the Americas took place via Beringia, a land bridge which connected the two continents across what is now the Bering Strait. The majority of experts agree that the earliest pre-modern human migration via Beringia took place at least 13,500 years ago.[29] These early Paleo-Indians spread throughout the Americas, diversifying into many hundreds of culturally distinct nations and tribes. According to the oral histories of many of the indigenous peoples of the Americas, they have been living there since their genesis, described by a wide range of creation myths.
Application of the term "Indian" originated with Christopher Columbus, who, in his search for Asia, thought that he had arrived in the East Indies.[30][31][32][33][34][35] The Americas came to be known as the "West Indies", a name still used to refer to the islands of the Caribbean Sea. This led to the names "Indies" and "Indian", which implied some kind of racial or cultural unity among the aboriginal peoples of the Americas. This unifying concept, codified in law, religion, and politics, was not originally accepted by indigenous peoples but has been embraced by many over the last two centuries.[citation needed] Even though the term "Indian" does not include the Aleuts, Inuit, or Yupik peoples, these groups are considered indigenous peoples of the Americas.
Although some indigenous peoples of the Americas were traditionally hunter-gatherers—and many, especially in Amazonia, still are—many groups practiced aquaculture and agriculture. The impact of their agricultural endowment to the world is a testament to their time and work in reshaping and cultivating the flora indigenous to the Americas.[36] Although some societies depended heavily on agriculture, others practiced a mix of farming, hunting, and gathering. In some regions the indigenous peoples created monumental architecture, large-scale organized cities, chiefdoms, states, and empires.
A Navajo man on horseback in Monument valley, Arizona.
Many parts of the Americas are still populated by indigenous peoples; some countries have sizable populations, especially Belize, Bolivia, Chile, Ecuador, Greenland, Guatemala, Mexico, and Peru. At least a thousand different indigenous languages are spoken in the Americas. Some, such as the Quechuan languages, Aymara, Guaraní, Mayan languages, and Nahuatl, count their speakers in millions. Many also maintain aspects of indigenous cultural practices to varying degrees, including religion, social organization, and subsistence practices. Like most cultures, over time, cultures specific to many indigenous peoples have evolved to incorporate traditional aspects, but also cater to modern needs. Some indigenous peoples still live in relative isolation from Western culture and a few are still counted as uncontacted peoples.
Migration into the continents[edit]
For more details on theories of the migrations of the Paleo-Indians, see settlement of the Americas.
The specifics of Paleo-Indian migration to and throughout the Americas, including the exact dates and routes traveled, provide the subject of ongoing research and discussion.[37][38] According to archaeological and genetic evidence, North and South America were the last continents in the world with human habitation.[37] During the Wisconsin glaciation, 50–17,000 years ago, falling sea levels allowed people to move across the land bridge of Beringia that joined Siberia to north west North America (Alaska).[39][40] Alaska was a glacial refugia because it had low snowfall, allowing a small population to exist. The Laurentide Ice Sheet covered most of North America, blocking nomadic inhabitants and confining them to Alaska (East Beringia) for thousands of years.[41][42]
Indigenous genetic studies suggest that the first inhabitants of the Americas share a single ancestral population, one that developed in isolation, conjectured to be Beringia.[43][44] The isolation of these peoples in Beringia might have lasted 10–20,000 years.[45][46][47] Around 16,500 years ago, the glaciers began melting, allowing people to move south and east into Canada and beyond.[38][48][49] These people are believed to have followed herds of now-extinct Pleistocene megafauna along ice-free corridors that stretched between the Laurentide and Cordilleran Ice Sheets.[50]
Another route proposed involves migration - either on foot or using primitive boats - along the Pacific Northwest coast to South America.[51] Evidence of the latter would have been covered by a sea level rise of more than 120 meters since the last ice age.[52]
The time range of 40,000–16,500 years ago is debatable and probably will remain so for years to come.[37][38] The few agreements achieved to date include:[29][53]
the origin from Central Asia
widespread habitation of the Americas during the end of the last glacial period, or more specifically what is known as the Late Glacial Maximum, around 16,000–13,000 years before present
Stone tools, particularly projectile points and scrapers, are the primary evidence of the earliest human activity in the Americas. Crafted lithic flaked tools are used by archaeologists and anthropologists to classify cultural periods.[54] The Clovis culture, the earliest definitively-dated Paleo-Indians in the Americas, appears around 11,500 RCBP (radiocarbon years Before Present[55]), equivalent to 13,500 to 13,000 calendar years ago.
In 2014, the autosomal DNA of a 12,500+-year-old infant from Montana found in close association with several Clovis artifacts was sequenced.[56] These are the Anzick-1 remains from the Anzick Clovis burial in Montana. The data indicate that the individual was from a population ancestral to present South American and Central American Native American populations, and closely related to present North American Native American populations. The implication is that there was an early divergence between North American and Central American plus South American populations. Hypotheses which posit that invasions subsequent to the Clovis culture overwhelmed or assimilated previous migrants into the Americas were ruled out.[56]
Similarly, the skeleton of a teenage girl (named 'Naia', after a water nymph from Greek mythology) found in the underwater caves called sistema Sac Actun in Mexico's eastern Yucatán Peninsula in 2007 has had DNA extracted, and at 13,000 years old is considered the oldest genetically intact human skeleton ever found in the Americas. The DNA indicates she was from a lineage derived from Asian origins that is represented in the modern native population's DNA.[57]
Pre-Columbian era[edit]
Main article: Pre-Columbian era
See also: Archaeology of the Americas
Language families of North American indigenous peoples
The Pre-Columbian era incorporates all period subdivisions in the history and prehistory of the Americas before the appearance of significant European and African influences on the American continents, spanning the time of the original arrival in the Upper Paleolithic to European colonization during the early modern period.[58]
While technically referring to the era before Christopher Columbus' voyages of 1492 to 1504, in practice the term usually includes the history of American indigenous cultures until Europeans either conquered or significantly influenced them, even if this happened decades or even centuries after Columbus' initial landing.[59] "Pre-Columbian" is used especially often in the context of discussing the great indigenous civilizations of the Americas, such as those of Mesoamerica (the Olmec, the Toltec, the Teotihuacano, the Zapotec, the Mixtec, the Aztec, and the Maya civilizations) and those of the Andes (Inca Empire, Moche culture, Muisca Confederation, Cañaris).
Ethnic groups circa 1300-1535
Paleo-Indians hunting a glyptodont
Many pre-Columbian civilizations established characteristics and hallmarks which included permanent or urban settlements, agriculture, civic and monumental architecture, and complex societal hierarchies.[60] Some of these civilizations had long faded by the time of the first significant European and African arrivals (ca. late 15th–early 16th centuries), and are known only through oral history and through archaeological investigations. Others were contemporary with this period, and are also known from historical accounts of the time. A few, such as the Mayan, Olmec, Mixtec, and Nahua peoples, had their own written records. However, the European colonists of the time worked to eliminate non-Christian beliefs, and Christian pyres destroyed many pre-Columbian written records. Only a few documents remained hidden and survived, leaving contemporary historians with glimpses of ancient culture and knowledge.
According to both indigenous American and European accounts and documents, American civilizations at the time of European encounter had achieved many accomplishments.[61] For instance, the Aztecs built one of the largest cities in the world, Tenochtitlan, the ancient site of Mexico City, with an estimated population of 200,000. American civilizations also displayed impressive accomplishments in astronomy and mathematics. The domestication of maize or corn required thousands of years of selective breeding.
Inuit, Alaskan Native, and American Indian creation myths tell of a variety of origins of their respective peoples. Some were "always there" or were created by gods or animals, some migrated from a specified compass point, and others came from "across the ocean".[62]
European colonization[edit]
Main article: European colonization of the Americas
See also: Population history of indigenous peoples of the Americas and Columbian Exchange
Cultural areas of North America at time of European contact
The European colonization of the Americas forever changed the lives and cultures of the peoples of the continents. Although the exact pre-contact population of the Americas is unknown, scholars estimate that Native American populations diminished by between 80 and 90% within the first centuries of contact with Europeans. The leading cause was disease. The continent was ravaged by epidemics of diseases such as smallpox, measles, and cholera, which were brought from Europe by the early explorers and spread quickly into new areas even before later explorers and colonists reached them. Native Americans suffered high mortality rates due to their lack of prior exposure to these diseases. The loss of lives was exacerbated by conflict between colonists and indigenous people. Colonists also frequently perpetrated massacres on the indigenous groups and enslaved them.[63][64][65] According to the U.S. Bureau of the Census (1894), the North American Indian Wars of the 19th century cost the lives of about 19,000 whites and 30,000 Native Americans.[66]
The first indigenous group encountered by Columbus were the 250,000 Taínos of Hispaniola who represented the dominant culture in the Greater Antilles and the Bahamas. Within thirty years about 70% of the Taínos had died.[67] They had no immunity to European diseases, so outbreaks of measles and smallpox ravaged their population.[68] Increasing punishment of the Taínos for revolting against forced labour, despite measures put in place by the encomienda, which included religious education and protection from warring tribes,[69] eventually led to the last great Taíno rebellion.
Following years of mistreatment, the Taínos began to adopt suicidal behaviors, with women aborting or killing their infants and men jumping from the cliffs or ingesting untreated cassava, a violent poison.[67] Eventually, a Taíno Cacique named Enriquillo managed to hold out in the Baoruco Mountain Range for thirteen years, causing serious damage to the Spanish, Carib-held plantations and their Indian auxiliaries.[70] Hearing of the seriousness of the revolt, Emperor Charles V (also King of Spain) sent captain Francisco Barrionuevo to negotiate a peace treaty with the ever-increasing number of rebels. Two months later, after consultation with the Audencia of Santo Domingo, Enriquillo was offered any part of the island to live in peace.
The Laws of Burgos, 1512-1513, were the first codified set of laws governing the behavior of Spanish settlers in America, particularly with regard to native Indians. The laws forbade the maltreatment of natives and endorsed their conversion to Catholicism.[71] The Spanish crown found it difficult to enforce these laws in a distant colony.
Drawing accompanying text in Book XII of the 16th-century Florentine Codex (compiled 1540–1585), showing Nahuas of conquest-era central Mexico suffering from smallpox
Various theories for the decline of the Native American populations emphasize epidemic diseases, conflicts with Europeans, and conflicts among warring tribes. Scholars now believe that, among the various contributing factors, epidemic disease was the overwhelming cause of the population decline of the American natives.[72][73] Some believe that after first contacts with Europeans and Africans, Old World diseases caused the death of 90 to 95% of the native population of the New World in the following 150 years.[74] Smallpox killed up to one third of the native population of Hispaniola in 1518.[75] By killing the Incan ruler Huayna Capac, smallpox caused the Inca Civil War. Smallpox was only the first epidemic. Typhus (probably) in 1546, influenza and smallpox together in 1558, smallpox again in 1589, diphtheria in 1614, measles in 1618—all ravaged the remains of Inca culture.
Smallpox had killed millions of native inhabitants of Mexico.[76][77] Unintentionally introduced at Veracruz with the arrival of Pánfilo de Narváez on April 23, 1520, smallpox ravaged Mexico in the 1520s,[78] possibly killing over 150,000 in Tenochtitlán alone (the heartland of the Aztec Empire), and aiding in the victory of Hernán Cortés over the Aztec Empire at Tenochtitlan (present-day Mexico City) in 1521.[citation needed]
Over the centuries, the Europeans had developed high degrees of immunity to these diseases, while the indigenous Americans had no immunity.[79]
Explorations of the Caribbean led to the discovery of the Arawaks of the Lesser Antilles. The culture was destroyed by 1650. Only 500 had survived by the year 1550, though the bloodlines continued through to the modern populace. In Amazonia, indigenous societies weathered centuries of colonization.[80]
Indians visiting a Brazilian farm plantation in Minas Gerais ca. 1824
Contact with European diseases such as smallpox and measles killed between 50 and 67 per cent of the Aboriginal population of North America in the first hundred years after the arrival of Europeans.[81] Some 90 per cent of the native population near Massachusetts Bay Colony died of smallpox in an epidemic in 1617–1619.[82] In 1633, in Plymouth, the Native Americans there were exposed to smallpox because of contact with Europeans. As it had done elsewhere, the virus wiped out entire population groups of Native Americans.[83] It reached Lake Ontario in 1636, and the lands of the Iroquois by 1679.[84][85] During the 1770s, smallpox killed at least 30% of the West Coast Native Americans.[86] The 1775–82 North American smallpox epidemic and 1837 Great Plains smallpox epidemic brought devastation and drastic population depletion among the Plains Indians.[87][88] In 1832, the federal government of the United States established a smallpox vaccination program for Native Americans (The Indian Vaccination Act of 1832).[89][90]
The Indigenous peoples in Brazil declined from a pre-Columbian high of an estimated three million[91] to some 300,000 in 1997.[dubious – discuss][not in citation given][92]
The Spanish Empire and other Europeans brought horses to the Americas. Some of these animals escaped and began to breed and increase their numbers in the wild.[93] The re-introduction of the horse, extinct in the Americas for over 7500 years, had a profound impact on Native American culture in the Great Plains of North America and of Patagonia in South America. By domesticating horses, some tribes had great success: horses enabled them to expand their territories, exchange more goods with neighboring tribes, and more easily capture game, especially bison.
Agriculture[edit]
See also: Agriculture in Mesoamerica and Incan agriculture
A bison hunt depicted by George Catlin
Over the course of thousands of years, American indigenous peoples domesticated, bred and cultivated a large array of plant species. These species now constitute 50–60% of all crops in cultivation worldwide.[94] In certain cases, the indigenous peoples developed entirely new species and strains through artificial selection, as was the case in the domestication and breeding of maize from wild teosinte grasses in the valleys of southern Mexico. Numerous such agricultural products retain their native names in the English and Spanish lexicons.
The South American highlands were a center of early agriculture. Genetic testing of the wide variety of cultivars and wild species suggests that the potato has a single origin in the area of southern Peru,[95] from a species in the Solanum brevicaule complex. Over 99% of all modern cultivated potatoes worldwide are descendants of a subspecies indigenous to south-central Chile,[96] Solanum tuberosum ssp. tuberosum, where it was cultivated as long as 10,000 years ago.[97][98] According to George Raudzens, "It is clear that in pre-Columbian times some groups struggled to survive and often suffered food shortages and famines, while others enjoyed a varied and substantial diet."[99] The persistent drought around 850 AD coincided with the collapse of Classic Maya civilization, and the famine of One Rabbit (AD 1454) was a major catastrophe in Mexico.[100]
Andenes in the Sacred Valley of the Incas, Peru. The Incan agricultural terraces are still used by many of the Incas' descendents, Quechua-speaking Andean farmers.
Natives of North America began practicing farming approximately 4,000 years ago, late in the Archaic period of North American cultures. Technology had advanced to the point that pottery was becoming common and the small-scale felling of trees had become feasible. Concurrently, the Archaic Indians began using fire in a controlled manner. Intentional burning of vegetation was used to mimic the effects of natural fires that tended to clear forest understories. It made travel easier and facilitated the growth of herbs and berry-producing plants, which were important for both food and medicines.[101]
In the Mississippi River valley, Europeans noted Native Americans' managed groves of nut and fruit trees not far from villages and towns and their gardens and agricultural fields. Further away, prescribed burning would have been used in forest and prairie areas.[102]
Many crops first domesticated by indigenous Americans are now produced and used globally. Chief among these is maize or "corn", arguably the most important crop in the world.[103] Other significant crops include cassava, chia, squash (pumpkins, zucchini, marrow, acorn squash, butternut squash), the pinto bean, Phaseolus beans including most common beans, tepary beans and lima beans, tomatoes, potatoes, avocados, peanuts, cocoa beans (used to make chocolate), vanilla, strawberries, pineapples, Peppers (species and varieties of Capsicum, including bell peppers, jalapeños, paprika and chili peppers) sunflower seeds, rubber, brazilwood, chicle, tobacco, coca, manioc and some species of cotton.
Studies of contemporary indigenous environmental management, including agro-forestry practices among Itza Maya in Guatemala and hunting and fishing among the Menominee of Wisconsin, suggest that longstanding "sacred values" may represent a summary of sustainable millennial traditions.[104]
Culture[edit]
Further information: Mythologies of the indigenous peoples of North America
Quechua woman and child in the Sacred Valley, Andes, Peru
Cultural practices in the Americas seem to have been shared mostly within geographical zones where unrelated peoples adopted similar technologies and social organizations. An example of such a cultural area is Mesoamerica, where millennia of coexistence and shared development among the peoples of the region produced a fairly homogeneous culture with complex agricultural and social patterns. Another well-known example is the North American plains where until the 19th century several peoples shared the traits of nomadic hunter-gatherers based primarily on buffalo hunting.
Writing systems[edit]
See also: Canadian Aboriginal syllabics, Cherokee syllabary, and Quipu
Maya glyphs in stucco at the Museo de sitio in Palenque, Mexico
The development of writing is counted among the many achievements and innovations of pre-Columbian American cultures. Independent from the development of writing in other areas of the world, the Mesoamerican region produced several indigenous writing systems beginning in the 1st millennium BCE. What may be the earliest-known example in the Americas of an extensive text thought to be writing is by the Cascajal Block. The Olmec hieroglyphs tablet has been indirectly dated from ceramic shards found in the same context to approximately 900 BCE, around the time that Olmec occupation of San Lorenzo Tenochtitlán began to wane.[105]
The Maya writing system was a combination of phonetic syllabic symbols and logograms — that is, it was a logosyllabic writing system. It is the only pre-Columbian writing system known to represent completely the spoken language of its community. In total, the script has more than one thousand different glyphs, although a few are variations of the same sign or meaning, and many appear only rarely or are confined to particular localities. At any one time, no more than about five hundred glyphs were in use, some two hundred of which (including variations) had a phonetic or syllabic interpretation.[106][107][108]
Aztec codices (singular codex) are books written by pre-Columbian and colonial-era Aztecs. These codices provide some of the best primary sources for Aztec culture. The pre-Columbian codices differ from European codices in that they are largely pictorial; they were not meant to symbolize spoken or written narratives.[109] The colonial era codices not only contain Aztec pictograms, but also Classical Nahuatl (in the Latin alphabet), Spanish, and occasionally Latin.
Spanish mendicants in the sixteenth century taught indigenous scribes in their communities to write their languages in Latin letters, and there is a large number of local-level documents in Nahuatl, Zapotec, Mixtec, and Yucatec Maya from the colonial era, many of which were part of lawsuits and other legal matters. Although Spaniards initially taught indigenous scribes alphabetic writing, the tradition became self-perpetuating at the local level.[110] The Spanish crown gathered such documentation, and contemporary Spanish translations were made for legal cases. Scholars have translated and analyzed these documents in what is called the New Philology to write histories of indigenous peoples from indigenous viewpoints.[111]
The Wiigwaasabak, birch bark scrolls on which the Ojibwa (Anishinaabe) people wrote complex geometrical patterns and shapes, can also be considered a form of writing, as can Mi'kmaq hieroglyphics.
Aboriginal syllabic writing, or simply syllabics, is a family of abugidas used to write some Aboriginal Canadian languages of the Algonquian, Inuit, and Athabaskan language families.
Music and art[edit]
Main articles: Visual arts by indigenous peoples of the Americas and Native American music
Apache fiddle made by Chesley Goseyun Wilson (San Carlos Apache)
Chimu culture feather pectoral, feathers, reed, copper, silver, hide, cordage, ca. 1350–1450 CE
Textile art by Julia Pingushat (Inuk, Arviat, Nunavut Territory, Canada), wool, embroidery floss, 1995
Native American music in North America is almost entirely monophonic, but there are notable exceptions. Traditional Native American music often centers around drumming. Rattles, clappersticks, and rasps were also popular percussive instruments. Flutes were made of rivercane, cedar, and other woods. The tuning of these flutes is not precise and depends on the length of the wood used and the hand span of the intended player, but the finger holes are most often around a whole step apart and, at least in Northern California, a flute was not used if it turned out to have an interval close to a half step. The Apache fiddle is a single stringed instrument.[citation needed]
The music of the indigenous peoples of Central Mexico and Central America was often pentatonic. Before the arrival of the Spaniards and other Europeans, music was inseparable from religious festivities and included a large variety of percussion and wind instruments such as drums, flutes, sea snail shells (used as a trumpet) and "rain" tubes. No remnants of pre-Columbian stringed instruments were found until archaeologists discovered a jar in Guatemala, attributed to the Maya of the Late Classic Era (600–900 CE), which depicts a stringed musical instrument which has since been reproduced. This instrument is one of the very few stringed instruments known in the Americas prior to the introduction of European musical instruments; when played, it produces a sound that mimics a jaguar's growl.[112]
Visual arts by indigenous peoples of the Americas comprise a major category in the world art collection. Contributions include pottery, paintings, jewellery, weavings, sculptures, basketry, carvings, and beadwork.[113] Because too many artists were posing as Native Americans and Alaska Natives[114] in order to profit from the cachet of Indigenous art in the United States, the U.S. passed the Indian Arts and Crafts Act of 1990, requiring artists to prove that they are enrolled in a state or federally recognized tribe. To support the ongoing practice of American Indian, Alaska Native, and Native Hawaiian arts and cultures in the United States,[115] the Ford Foundation, arts advocates and American Indian tribes created an endowment seed fund and established a national Native Arts and Cultures Foundation in 2007.[116][117]
Demography of contemporary populations[edit]
This map shows the percentage of indigenous population in different countries of the Americas.
The following table provides estimates for each country in the Americas of the populations of indigenous people and those with partial indigenous ancestry, each expressed as a percentage of the overall population. The total percentage obtained by adding both of these categories is also given.
Note: these categories are inconsistently defined and measured differently from country to country. Some figures are based on the results of population-wide genetic surveys while others are based on self-identification or observational estimation
"We're at a tipping point
The arguments may lead
To less cohesion
A mere collection of parts
Sleepwalking to separation
Who'd give the perpetrators
A second chance
If reason could prevail
The narrowest vision
Often has the widest appeal
A lack of decision
Leaves us open for a steal
Left out, abandoned
We're less than ideal
Whose rights to shout the loudest?
Should bully tactics triumph
When no one cares
And all stand idly by
The narrowest vision
Often has the widest appeal
A lack of decision
Leaves us open for a steal
Left out, abandoned
We're less than ideal"....
Wire / Sleep-Walking ...
Tour Eiffel éclairée aux couleurs du drapeau de la France en hommage aux victimes des attentas du vendredi 13 novembre 2015 perpétrés dans Paris et aux abords du Stade de France à Saint-Denis. Eiffel Tower lit with colors of the flag of France in tribute to victims of the bombings perpetrated Friday, November 13, 2015 in Paris and around the Stade de France at saint-Denis.
Office Dwellers.
Индивидуальные возникающие соображения созерцания взглядов игнорируются аналогичными предложениями сопутствующих событий, супериндуцированных пресловутых боссов, приказов хулиганов,
influencer les jugements outrage connexions atroces saisissant des rumeurs de perpétration interrompant des conceptions secrètes divertissant suggestions suspicions conscient angoisses,
أسباب ظرفية اكتشفت المواد إلابسينغ أجزاء الفاسد المحددة كتابات تبديد القوانين التقليدية زيادة الاكتشاف الأسئلة,
kommunikation styrer forskellige konsekvenser offentlige grunde undersøger sig komparative kæmper natur suppositions retninger enkle samlinger,
alusión a la indagación, números infundados que demuestran los argumentos de la escena cometida evidencia obstinada matorral precisa problemas de arrastre a lo largo,
採用された目的は、ポイントを構成する共通の苦情一般的な処分された真実を認識する覚え書き結びついた行動は監視犯罪.
Steve.D.Hammond.
SIAM REAP, LAND MINE REHAB CENTER...........................
QUITE a BUSY CENTER on a nice quiet street, next door to a beautiful BUTTERFLY FARM............................which i spent a lot of time in btw..............
ANGKOR WAT is a few miles away.
Millions of tourists visit it.
But no one comes to this place.
People don't want to see evil except in MOVIES.
People who are evil don't want to be seen.
People who are victims of evil are blamed sometimes as the perpetrators.
People who care about evil are ignored sometimes laughed at.
People who deny reality and live in igloos are doomed
to repeat history.
the KHYMER ROUGE AKA ISIS yes like the NAZIS, & like so many murderers planted thousands of landmines
during their reign.
Thus hundreds of AMPUTEES all over CAMBODIA
MAN IS CAPABLE OF THE SEVEREST CRUELTY and OF KILLING MAIMING DESTROYING AND TAKING LIFE AT THE BLINK OF AN EYE.
MAN IS THE MOST EVIL SPECIES AND THE MOST DANGEROUS.
MAN HAS KILLED HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF PEOPLE JUST IN THE LAST CENTURY.
Man evolves technologically but
not
Psychologically..........
not
Altruistically
SIEM REAP, LAND MINE REHAB CENTER...........................
Photography’s new conscience
Grand Junction, Colorado
In this college, I took Koda to a Pet Wash, to give him a bath. This is an excellent wash, whether you're washing your pet or car. It also has a great Touch-less wash. The owner keeps it spotless. I use it often. I also have my mail delivered, at this same, small strip mall. Those involved In Gangstalking, wait for me to arrive, every time.
Triple-Click on the Image. Going from top left to right. The 1st image; we pull into a parking spot, right in front. The man in the wheelchair rolls up, opens the door, looks inside, then rolls pass Koda, on the passenger side. He doesn’t have a pet with him, or a vehicle to wash. He was trying to get Koda to react aggressively; to him and his wheelchair.
The next image, was taken from inside the pet wash. As I take Koda in, this guy on the bike rides up on the other side. He stands there, on his bike, facing his cell camera into the wash. He stayed there the whole time, I washed Koda. He’s showing a couple Gangstalking tells, the whole time he’s there. 1St, is the cute orange hat, he has in his little manly basket. The 2nd, is the way he is holding his phone. Again, maintaining this posture, while I washed Koda. These are acts, to psychologically intimidate, and harass a Target. Gangstalkers/Narcissits, love to use colors to identify themselves, and let the Target know they are being watched.
The next image, is a man with an EC Electric, truck. You can see him spraying the ground, outside the wash. He does this to fill the air, with a misty soap. The wind is blowing it on my car, and at me; as I load Koda, and towels into the car. The next picture; he is spaying way outside the wash, into the air. That’s because, I’m coming back out from the pet wash. I was wearing an apron, and needed to put it back in the wash. If you triple-click on the image; you can see the pet wash door, slightly open. It was me, coming out. I ask you; is this a contractor, you would want in your home?
The next picture, is a woman on a bike, that comes out of nowhere. If you look close, to the far right center of the image; the man on the bike, with his cell phone facing us again, is riding out from behind the wash. Right on Q, to distract me.
The next image, is him; with his cell phone in the same position, as he rides by. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes; I would have never thought, he could ride a bike, and hold a cell phone at the same time.
The next two images, are; the man in the wheelchair leaving, disappearing down the sidewalk. I told you, he had no pet or vehicle to wash. He was just pulling another skit.
Conspired Skits, are performed repeatedly, when Targeted Individuals venture out, into public areas. They are meant to intimidate, harass and overwhelm a Target. In hopes, they act out. Which, will be recorded. They are not only done in public, but often; around, or in, a Target's home. Kinda, like the time; we had 8 road-killed animals, placed in our yard, and 1, in the mailbox. Another time, I recorded a man, telling a little boy; to look directly into their eyes. He was telling the boy, to look directly into the eyes of my dog, as he walked by. A dog takes this; as an act of aggression, or dominance. Seriously, how sick is that? That was many years ago. Perps do this to Koda, all the time. Especially, at the Grand Junction, VA Hospital. It's the most Toxic VA facility, I've ever used. If you address this, they will put false statements, in your records. Trying to address Gangstalking to Law Enforcement; they often make excuses, defending the perpetrators. Which is the case, in Grand Junction.
Take a good look at this Country! Is conspired disinformation, hatred, harassment and intimidation, so hard to believe? Is corruption, within our Government Agencies, so hard to believe? Gangstalking is real, don’t let anyone, tell you it’s not.
Too often, my post are filled with ignorance and hatred. Here is a story, I'd love to share with you. There may be hope after all.
scoop.upworthy.com/homeless-man-asks-restaurant-if-they-h...
All photos and content in my photostream are free to download, copy, print and share. All I ask, is you maintain my copyright logos on all prints. The truth should be free, for all who seek it. Thanks for visiting our photostream
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************************************************************
Based on a true adventures of a rogue active in the waning years of the 1930’s as discovered in the criminal archives of Chatwick University.
Act 1
I begin my tale in the present…
That afternoon a soiree was given as part of the purchase price of the tickets for the annual Autumn Charity Ball to be presented later that evening at the manor’s great house. Since I was alone, I just went mainly for the free food and to rub my elbows with the wealthy guests who would be in happy attendance there, and at the Ball. I was alone, but certainly not bored. There was a game I enjoyed playing to pass the time at these affairs that entailed scoping out by their dress and day jewels worn, those ladies whom would be most likely to be wearing the better costumes and sparklers that evening. It often proved to be a most beneficial insight into the actions and mannerisms of the very rich. I walked amongst the cheerful guests, eying one here ( a lady in satin and pearls) and another there( a high spirited girl with a diamond pin at the throat of her frilly silken blouse). It was as I was passing the latter that the friend she had been talking too (dressed like a vamp), bumped up against me. I caught her, steadying her as they both giggled. I didn’t mind, for the lassie’s too tight satin sheath tea dress had been an enticement to hold, and the gold bracelet that had been dangling from her gloved wrist had been a pleasure to observe. I kissed her gloved hand, rings glittering, as I apologized gallantly for my clumsiness. Her eyes were bright, almost as bright as the twin necklaces of gold that hung swaying down pleasantly from between her ample bosom. I left them, moving on to greener pastures, and it was very green, all of it….
It was then that I detected another pretty lassie. It was her long fiery red hair with falling wispy curls that first captured my attention. She was wearing a fetchingly smart white chiffon party dress that commanded me to acquire a closer examination. She appeared to be a blithe spirit, seemingly content with just being by herself and roaming about with casual elegance, the extensive grounds of the manor proper. I began to discreetly follow her at a distance. Although she did not wear any jewelry, her manner and the eloquent way she moved is what attracted me the most. It would be very interesting to seek her out later that evening and she what she would have chosen to decorate herself with. I followed her as she sojourned into the depths of a traditional English garden with a maze of lushly green trimmed 8 foot high hedges
As I strolled through the hedgerows in her wake I allowed my mind to wander its own course. Suddenly I straightened up, my reverie broken by an epiphany of sorts. I allowed myself to grin and the lady whose enchantment I was swollen up in, at that moment turned, and seeing my beaming smile assumed it was for her and gave me a rather cute nod of her head. I answered in same, as I headed en route to a nearby stone garden bench to allow my thoughts to think through themselves.
But before I go on, allow me the pleasure to sojourn and reminisce about an incident that occurred several years prior:
*******************
I was still working unaided in those days, travelling on to a new next quest that would take me just outside of Surrey.
I had just purchased my train ticket and had seen my luggage safe on board when I decided to rest in the lounge, it being some 45 minutes before allowed to enter personally aboard. Being so early the lounge was almost deserted, only one other occupant. I assumed she was waiting for someone on an incoming train due to the fact she carried no luggage. She was obviously well off, well dressed in satins and lace, and her jewels shone magnificently in the dim lights. Especially one of her rings, noticeably lying loosely around a finger, it sparkled with an expensive brilliance. I had seen one like it in a tiffanies store, worth almost 250 pounds. But she did not appreciate the show her jewelry was putting on under the lounge lights, for she was fast asleep.
I circled around her, aiming for a seat next to her, eyeing her and her possessions carefully. I noticed her purse had fallen off her lap and lay on the floor. An idea popped into my head, and I picked the purse up, and looked around carefully, before placing my plan into action. But I was thwarted as an older, matronly lady was spotted heading our way. I slipped the purse into my jacket and moved off before I was noticed. Of course she came in and took the empty seat across form the sleeping princess, and soon busied herself with knitting. As the older lady had sat down, not quietly, the wealthy lady stirred waking up at the noise. I went into a corner and sat, waiting. The two ladies soon fell into conversation; the minute’s ticked by excruciatingly slow. Soon I noticed we even had more company.
He was a lad of only fourteen, but with a devilish look about him that marked him a kindred spirit to meself, and his quick eyes were darting about taking it all in as he stood outside the paned glass window.
It was as the first announcement of boarding the train that I saw a chance for opportunity to strike.
The older lady folded up her knitting and clinching her bag, bid adieu to her new friend,( befuddled a little by the old ladies constant stream of gossip), and headed to the train. I was twenty steps ahead of her and was standing behind the youth as she left the lounge. I tapped him on the shoulder; he looked around at me suspiciously, and then caught sight of the shilling I was holding in front of his nose. I quickly whispered a few words into his ear on how he could earn it, and his grin spread as he bought into my story. I still held onto the shilling as he darted around and inside the lounge. I watched as he ran up behind the lady, circling her, then running in front of her he tripped over her leg, as she helped him up, her hand with the ring reaching down, he turned and spat onto the wrist and sleeve of that hand, than standing he ran away. Running alongside me, I handed him the shilling in passing as he ran off, disappearing in to the street.
I went inside and approached the astonished lady, as she was looking for her purse to get a handkerchief, confused as to its absence, while she held up her soiled hand( ring glittering furiously) in utter disbelief. I approached, catching her attention by the soothing words I uttered to her. I took her hand, unbelieving with her at just had happened, and I as I apologized for the youth of today I produced my own silk handkerchief and starting with her silky sleeve, began to wipe it off, continuing my tirade of displeasure and contempt at what had just occurred to the dear lady as I did so. As I finishing wiping her down, ending with her warm slender fingers, I kissed them, just as the last boarding announcement came over (perfect timing!) I let her go, explaining that I must catch my train. I turned and without looking back made the train just as it was letting off steam before chugging off.
I gained my private carriage just as the train began to lurch away. It wasn’t until after the train began its journey that I casually removed my silk handkerchief from my pocket and unwrapped it carefully, admiring up close the shimmering, valuable tiffany ring that was lying inside. I pocketed it, and then remembered the purse. I took it out and examined its contents: coin and notes equaling a handsome amount, a gold (gilded) case, embroidered lacy handkerchief, small silver flask of perfume, and ( of all things)a large shimmering prism , like one that would have dangled from a fancy crystal chandelier. A prism?, I questioned with interest as I examined it. It was pretty thing, about the circumference of a cricket ball, but shaped like a pendulum, it shimmered and glittered like the most precious of jewels. Why she had it in her purse? I couldn’t guess, and I saw no value in it, so I pocketed it and allowed it to leave my mind.
As I settled into my seat I began to think of the lad I had just met, I had been right on the money as far as his eagerness for mischief. Actually he reminded me of myself at that age, and I wondered if that lad with the shifty eyes would also turn out to follow the same course I had explored.
Which Begs the question, what had I turned out to become. And since I’m still reminiscing
I’ll give little background material about me, hopefully I don’t come across as being too conceited about my self-taught skills..
I had never been one to take the hard road, and even at a young age I was always looking for angles, or short cuts to make some money.
Once, while watching for some time a street magician and his acts. I observed a pick pocket working the crowd. He approached a pair of well-dressed ladies in shiny clothes, and standing behind them bided his time and then lifted a small pouch from one velvet purse, and a fat wallet from a silken one, then he moved on. Now both ladies were wearing shiny bracelets, one with jewels. I thought that he could have realized a greater profit if he had nicked one or both of the bracelets first, than try for the contents of their purses. The bracelets’ alone would have realized a far greater profit than what he lifted from their purses. It further occurred to me that by mimicking some of the sleight of hand tricks and misdirection that the magician was using on his audience, it could be accomplished. A hand placed on the right shoulder and as the lady turned right, whisk off the bracelet from her left wrist, and excuse oneself, that sort of thing.
So, I practiced (on my sisters, who proved to be willing accomplices to “my game”) and learned to pick their purses and pockets. I than moved onto their jewelry, starting by lifting bracelets and slipping away rings, before advancing to the brooches, necklaces and earrings they were wearing. After I was satisfied at my skill level, I went out and worked the streets. Sometimes using my one sister who was also hooked on what I was doing as a willing partner.
But I found myself still not being satisfied, in the back of my mind I thought there had to be a more lucrative way to turn a profit.
I’d found my answer when an attractive lady in a rustling satin gown zeroed in on me while I was “visiting” a ballroom. She was jeweled like a princess right up to the diamond band she wore holding up her piles of soft locks like a glimmering crown. The more she drank, the closer she got and I decided that her necklace would definitely help pay my expenses more than the contents of her purse (although I had already lifted the fat wallet from her small purse), and I did have very expensive tastes to pay for. So I took her onto the dance floor.
I was amazed at how easily I had been able to open the necklace’s clasp , slipping it over her satiny shoulder, lifting it off and placing it safely in my pocket with almost no effort. Then she decided to be playful once the song ended and brushed up against me. She felt the necklace in my pocket and before I could act she had her hand in and pulled it out.
The silly naive twit thought I was teasing her and told me that for my penance I had to go up to her suite in order to put it back on for her. I kept up the charade as best as I could.
And that’s where we ended up. A little bit of light fondling began as I placed the necklace back around her throat. I began to tease her, plied her with more and more alcohol as I tried to keep my distance, and virginity. Finally she passed out in a drunken stupor, but not before I had learned where she hid her valuables by suggesting she should lock her jewels up for the night..
With her safely unconscious, I began to strip her clean off all her jewels, reclaiming the necklace first. Then I visited all her jewelry casket and began looting it. I even took her small rhinestone clutch with the diamond clasp; of course I already had liberated its small wallet.
When I’d left her lying happily asleep in bed, still in her satin gown( the only item left to her that shined), I knew I had found a much more profitable line of “work”
So I began making circuits around to the haunts of the very rich, I still kept may hand in pickpocketing, so to speak, but centered only on those “pockets” containing mainly jewelry. I also began to carefully explore new ways of acquiring jewels” in masse”, so to speak.
Soon I had accumulated many tricks and tools, having them at my disposal to put into action once required, and for the remaining years up till the present had managed to live quite comfortably off of the ill-gotten gains using them allowed me to acquire.
Which brings me back to the train ride, my prism, and the rest of my background story before I retun to the present tale. Please be patient.
*****
So, anyway, I reached Surry without any further incident and disembarking, made my way out to the large country house where I would be staying to take a short rest, vacation if you will. But, pardon the play on words, for there is never any rest for the wicked, is there?
I had become acquainted with a servant of the old mansion ( almost a small castle, really) , that was about a mile off. I managed to learn a great deal, and soon found myself, on the pretense of visiting her, exploring the grounds. There was to be a grand ball taking place a couple of weekends away , and the maid had filled my ears with the riches that would be displayed by the multitude of regal ladies making an appearance. I began to think about trying to make a little bit of profit from my vacation. I am not sure how the idea developed, but the prism that I still had in my possession, came up centrally into my plans.
Late on the evening of the regal affair, I snuck over, covered head to toe in black, with my small satchel off tools by my side. I set up a candle behind an old stone ivy covered wall in a far corner of the rather large and intricate English garden that surrounded the inner circle around the mansion. I than strung the jewel-like prism in front of it. Standing behind the wall, I would strike the prism with a long stick I was holding whenever I observed sparkles emanating from silkily gowned ladies walking in the distance, solitary or in pairs. The prism would flash fire, sort of like a showy lure being used when fishing in a crooked trout stream. Only I was fishing for far sweeter game than trout. My objective was to trick certain types of jeweled ladies (scatterbrains some may call them) by luring them down onto the path beyond the wall, using their natural curiosity to my advantage.
I had at least two strikes rise up to my lure in the second hour.
On was a pretty lady in flowing green satin number, decorated with plenty of emeralds, which, hidden in the shadows, I observed were probably paste. I let her wonder about; as she looked and played with the shiny toy, remaining hidden until she grew bored and wandered off.
The second was a slender maiden wearing a long sleek black gown with long ivory silk gloves. I had never before seen a lady so decked out in jewels, literally head to toe. With the exception of the rhinestones adorning her heels, the rest of the lot was real, so valuably real that I could feel my mouth salivating at the thoughts of acquiring her riches. Now in Edwardian times only older, married ladies would be allowed the privilege of wearing a diamond Tiara. But in these modern times, it had become culturally acceptable for any well-to do lady, single or otherwise, to wear one out in society. Even so, they were still rarely worn, and seldom seen outside the safety of large gatherings. But there it was, a small, delicately slender piece of intricate art that glistened from the top of her head like some elegant beacon. That piece alone was probably worth more than I had made all the last four months combined!
I began to skirt around in the shadows, placing myself in position to cut off her retreat. Her diamonds blazed as she approached, eyeing the swinging prism with total concentration. Which was unfortunate, because as I was about to leave the shadows, she walked into the thorns of a rose bush, screeching out, and attracting the notice of a pair of gentlemen who had just crossed the path quite a ways off, called out when they heard the commotion. She started to become chatty with them, obviously coming on to her rescuers, my prism all but forgotten. Than before I knew it, in a swishing of her long gown, she was gone, “swimming” off before I was able to set me ”hook”.
Which I was able to do on the third strike, almost an hour later, just as I was beginning to ponder wither I should call it off and head back home..
They were a pair of young damsels in their young twenties. They may have been sisters, or cousins at the least. I still remember how my heart leapt into my throat as they observed my colourful prism and turned down the old flagstone path. I had not seen anyone out and about for some time, so I knew they would be no would be rescuers around to come to their aid
And, best of all, they were both dressed for the kill!
One, the blonde, was clad in a black velvet number that one could cannily describe as quite form fitting. As were the small ropes of pearls that hung from all points of interest, pretty with a matching pricelessness.
But her cousin, as I will refer to her, out shone black velvet quite literally.
This one, a stunning raven haired beauty, wore a long streaming gown of liquid ivory satin. A diamond brooch sparkled as it held up a fold of the gown to her waist. The fold allowed her to show a rather daring amount of a slender bare calf. The brooch was not paste, but a real jewel that had been added for the nights festivities ( To be successful, one learns to read these signs accurately) Her ears and neckline were home to a matching set of pure white diamonds. A wide diamond bracelet graced a bare right wrist ,so she must be left handed I instinctively thought, an observation that would have aided me if I were planning on having a go for slipping the bracelet from her wrist, but tonight I was planning a much more daring attempt to empty the entire jewel casket, so to speak.
They went to the prism, playing with it a bit, I had begun to circle around, when I noticed black velvet pointing out with multiple ringed fingers, to something further down the path past the wall.
With a clicking of heels I let the pair pass, they apparently wanted to see what was on the other side of the wall. I followed; it was not hard, because the necklace the raven haired one wore, diamonds fully encircling her throat, rippled and sparkled from their perch, caught in the full harvest moon’s cast, giving me more than enough light to shadow them quietly .
After a while they caught on that something/someone was following them, but as they turned they could see nothing. I was in black, and hooded, invisible to them in the shadows of the trees. They whispered amongst themselves, now worried, realizing that there were dangers lurking beyond the pale, in their case, the safety of the gardens , especially for ones decked out as they were. They then turned and headed right back from where they had come, right into my waiting arms.
It is interesting what good breeding does for young, poised ladies. For, as I stepped out of the shadows, a finger of my right hand to my lips, my Fairborn in my left hand, its black blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight , they did not scream out or shout for help. Instead the pair merely let out small gasps, and then they both, in a quite charming synchronized display of disbelief, place each one hand over their open mouths, and the other upon their perspective necklaces.
And as I flourished my wicked looking Fairbairn–Sykes blade in their direction, they unquestioningly reached around and undid those pretty necklaces, tremblingly handing them out to me, like actresses following a well-read script. I took the little pretties and after stuffing them into my satchel, held out again my free hand, my fingers beckoning. Not a word was spoken between us, as the frightened pair of young ladies began removing their shimmering jewels and added them in a neat little growing pile along my open palm. The raven haired girl even undid her brooch without me having to command her to do so. Once I had stashed it all away, I motioned for them to turn back around, than with a little helpful prodding on my part, they began moving forward back down the hill, away from the garden. The one in white hobbling a little now as she kept tripping over the hem of her dress, now no longer held up by the stolen brooch.
After we had traveled about 200 meters I had them stop, and take off their high heels. Then picking the pretty things up, I motioned them to turn back around and made them walk back the way we had come in their bare feet, watching the pair awkwardly hobble barefooted down the wooded path. They would be quite a while on their journey back, allowing me more than ample time to make me escape. I threw their shoes off to the side and went briskly the other way, reaching the place was staying at , gaining my room without notice. But not before I had hidden the jewels inside an old stump to retrieve them at a later date. I never really heard so much as a whisper of the incident, other than from the pretty lips of my friendly maiden. The wee hours of the morning before my early departure for the train station found me revisiting the stump and retrieving my satchel and its precious cargo. After hiding it all in a false bottom of my case I laid my head on the pillow and drifted off to sleep as I wondered what had happened to the little prism, marveling at how useful it had ended up proving to be.
So, how does this story (journey rather) relate to the one I had already started? Please read on, and enrich your curiosity… my dear readers.
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Act 2
So, with apologies for my lengthy elucidation, but I now return you back to the garden party I was now attending on that warm fall day. But, as you will see, my prism story needed to be told in order to add a bit of flavor to what was about to unfold.
As I sat on the garden bench I formulated my plans. I should be able to acquire the main piece tonight at the Ball, I would have time this afternoon to retrieve my ever handy satchel and its array of tools and have it hidden at the spot I had already selected. It was perfect, located at the end of the path I had found, or rather the charming lady in the smart chiffon dress had found for me. A gas lamp would provide adequate light for my “lure”, and it led to a back wood where I could lead any victims away and liberate them of their valuables before making my escape. I rose, just enough time to walk my escape route, before setting up and then be dressed for the evening’s festivities. I looked around, I was alone now, my lady in white had disappeared, following her own course, whatever it may have been.
The Autumn Ball that evening was in full swing by the time I arrived. Being a cool fall day, most of the women were wearing long gowns and dresses, and that, for whatever the reason, usually meant they were decked out with more layers of jewelry than say , if it had been the middle of summer. In order to put my plan in action I need and intrinsic piece of the trap, a prism. The one I had once had was long ago lost, a minor pawn in a game to take a pair of princesses.
I knew exactly the type of prism required for my plan, and so began mingling amongst the guests with that in mind.
I started out by walking through to the chamber like ballroom where a full orchestra was starting to play. The first person I saw from the garden party was the little tramp who had been wearing the too tight satin tea dress. That dress had been replaced with a long silky gown, her gold jewelry replaced with emeralds; including a thin bracelet that had taken the place of the gold one that she had so obligingly dangled in my larcenous path. I decided to avoid her In principle, and in doing so spied someone quite interesting.
That someone was a pretty lady in a long velvet gown standing off to one side, idly watching the many dancers out on the floor. The dancing couples were forming an imagery of a rainbow coloured sea of slinky swirling gowns and with erupting fireworks of sparkling jewels, ignited by pair of immensely large chandeliers that hung over the dance floor, setting them off. I made my way, skirting the dance floor to reach her, my eyes on her jewels, which were making pretty fireworks of their own. I happened to walk up just as a waiter with a tray of drinks was passing by. Plucking off a drink I offered it to the lady with one hand, my other hand placed on her back as If to steady myself. She laughed prettily, and taking the drink I met her eyes, as she was focused on reaching and holding the glass in her slippery gloved hand, mine was on the ruby and diamond necklace. My hand behind her had flicked open the simple hook and eye clasp of the antique piece and was in the process of lifting it up and whisking it away from her throat. As I said a few words to her, I pocketed it, while also taking in the rest of her lovely figure and its shiny decorations, before biding adieu. She smiled, her pale bare neckline now quite glaringly extinguished of its fire.
It was about an hour later, after spotting, but unable to make inroads with several likely candidates, that I finally struck gold (figuratively). It came in the form of a young couple arguing between themselves in a far corner of the chamber. She was lecturing a rather handsome man in a tux, her jeweled fingers flying in his face. If she hadn’t been moving about in such an animated fashion as she lectured, I may not have even noticed her. But as it happened I did, especially noticeable was the sanctimonious lady’s wide jeweled bracelet that was bursting out in a rainbow of colorful flickers as her hand was emphatically waving, as her long gown of silk swished around with every movement she made. Perfect. I watched for a bit, and sure enough they moved off, the man heading for the patio leading outside, the wealthy girl following him, still giving him lashes with her tongue. I moved and managed to have her bump into me simply by stepping on the hemline of her long gown. For a few seconds I was the one on the receiving end of her wrath, but I took it like a man, I could see in the eyes of her tongue lashed husband, that he was grateful for the respite. I was also grateful; grateful for the quite wide, very shimmering, bracelet that I had removed from her wrist and now was residing in my pocket.
I began to leave the patio, but was stopped by a matronly lady in ruffles, laces and pearls, her breath heavy with alcohol. She started to question me on what the couple had been on about. Then without waiting for an answer she launched herself into a tirade of her own, her gem encrusted, silken gloved fingers, waving in my face for emphasis. It was almost ten minutes before I was able to make my escape. Which I did, but not before slipping off one of the lecturing ladies vulgarly large cocktail rings.
I headed onto the patio; the time was getting ripe for my plan, which I was now ready to put into motion, now having acquired its most essential piece. I went to the end of the large patio, weaving in and out of the by now well liquored guests whom had assembled there. Across the way I saw a lady tripping over her own gown. By the time I reached her she had fallen down, giggling merrily. Two of us rushed to her aid, she was busy gushed her thanks to the rescuer she knew, while ignoring the one she didn’t! Which was unfortunate on her part, for by ignoring me, she also was ignorant of the fact that I was busy lifting the small stands of black pearls from her wrist. I left unnoticed, much like a shadow fading out of the light, or at least that’s how it seemed. Finally I reached the patios outer edge without further incident, or gain. I went on the grass and turned a corner with the intention of going, post haste around the house to reach the gardens by the long way, hoping not to be seen by anyone. But I no sooner turned the corner, when I realized that it was not to be the case.
It was my blithe spirit in white chiffon from the garden party, pardon me, soiree. She was unescorted, looking up at the moon above a stone turret with one lit window, so intently that my presence had not been noticed. I had been absolutely correct in my observation of her as far as what she would be wearing for the evening. For what she had lacked in ornaments at the soiree, she had more than made up for in the evening festivities. She was absolutely gorgeous, resplendent in as beautiful a silvery satin gown that I had ever witness. It was just pouring down, shimmering along her delightful figure. Her long blazing red hair was still curling down and free, but now a pair of long chandelier earrings cascading down from her earlobes, were peeking out every now and then as they swayed with her every movement. Her blazingly rippling necklace was all diamonds, dripping down the front of her tightly satin covered bosom, twinkling iridescently like an intensively glimmering waterfall. Her slender gloved wrists were home to a pair of dangling diamond bracelets that were almost outshone by her many glistening rings. All in all she was quite a lure all too herself
I came up to her, starling her from her reverie. Taking up her hand, I looked into her startled, suddenly blushing face. I complimented her on the fine gown she wore. She thanked me, and I could see I that she suddenly remembered she me as the chap who she thought smiled to her in the garden. She seemed to accept my compliment quite readily. I chanced it( although Lord knows I was short on time) and asked her to a dance. I did not think she would agree, so it was with a little bit of surprise, hoping she would politely decline and walk off, leaving me free to go about my business unobserved. But she accepted, and I will admit that my heart leapt as she agreed (although in the back of my mind I knew I should be off if my plan was to work). The music had stopped so we made small talk as we slowly walked back to the ballroom. Her name was Katrina. It seems she was waiting for someone, which suited my plans, but he was late and so she had time. Which may have sounded dismissive, but from the apologetic way she said it, it was anything but the sort.
The orchestra started to tune back up as we entered, and taking her offered hand up, was soon lost in the elegance of my appealing partner. It was a long dance, and a formal one, but I could tell she was subtly anxious to be off on her meeting, as I was to be off to my own adventure. But Katrina did not really allow it to show, which was very uncharacteristic of her someone with her obvious breeding. So I was ready when the by the end of the music she begged her condolences and took flight. I watched her as she fluidly moved away, her jewels sparkling, all of them. On her mission to meet Mr. X I thought, for whom I was already harboring a quite jealous dislike. I should be off I thought to meself.
But I stood, still as stone; totally mesmerized by the way Katrina’s swirling silvery satin gown was playing out along her petite, jewel sparkling figure. It wasn’t till the last of her gown swished around a corner out of sight that I moved, but not without having to shake my head to clear the thoughts of her out of it. Well old son, focus. For by now the guests were starting to wander a bit afield in the waning hours of the Autumn Ball, and my small window of opportunity was closing fast. If my little plan was going to have any chance of success it would have to be now.
I walked out and made my way to one of the outside exist of the garden wall. Reaching into my pocket as I did so, fingering the bracelet, now cold, that had belonged to the quarrelsome lady,and soon would be playing another role, far from one its former mistress would ever have dreamed off. I also felt my new acquisition, still warm from my dance partner’s body. I will admit that I had felt a twinge of regret for taking it from a lady I had found to be most charmingly captivating. But slipping off the diamonds up and away from her throat had been as temptingly easy as it had been automatic. I had advantageously made use of the sleekness of her scintillatingly silky gown, and with the distractions created by the movements of the dance, successfully managed to keep Katrina’s attention safely diverted from the reality of why my fingers were ever so gently, caressingly sliding along her slippery gowns neckline. The truth was I had originally placed my hand there because it had felt so right, and I was a little startled when my fingers had subconsciously started playing with her necklaces clasp. Before I knew it, they had flicked open the gemstone clasp of her obviously expensive diamond necklace, and had lifted up. As I watched out of the corner of my eye, almost like I was a spectator, as opposed to being the perpetrator, I saw the chain move up and over her shoulder; its diamonds sparkling with is as the necklace disappeared from view behind her back.
It was a favored technique that I had perfected to the point that by this stage of my career I nearly always acquired my objective. But, as odd as it sounds, I was not happy with myself on this occasion.
But I did not long dwell on my mixed feelings on taking the charming lass’s diamonds, for by now I had reached my place of ambush. It was in one of the farthest reaches of the garden, at a bend on the end of a long path that, with a gas lamp at its beginning just off the patio, would allow me to see from some distance off. Behind me was a break in the hedge wide enough for a person to walk through comfortably. It was here, off a tree limb, underneath a second ornate cast iron gas lamp, which was now lit, that I hung the shimmering bracelet that I had sought out and acquired for just that reason
I walked around and saw that it could be seen flickered off in the distance from the woods, Perfect! Earlier I had hidden my satchel with a hood and knife and bit of rope in the hollow of an old tree. I now retrieved them, and after getting ready, found my position and waited. At 10 minutes past the first hour of my wait, with nary a single glimpse of anyone, I started to fidget. My corner may be just a bit too desolated I was beginning to admit to myself. It seemed that most of the guests were staying by the patio. I was starting to think that I should pack it in, possibly rejoining the guests for one last parting( of someone from her Jewelry). I was just reaching down to pick up my satchel when I suddenly saw something flash under the gas lamp at the beginning of the path, and my senses immediately perked up. I watched as the wisps of rich shimmery satin moved closer, I stiffened, drooling with anticipation, the game was afoot.
I could see clearly the flickering jewels she wore, and by their blazing sparkles of rippling fire, I knew that my long vigil would not have been in vain. As the lady drew I recognized her gown of silvery satin! I knew who was making those tantalizing flashes of appealing treasures. Katrina!
I watched as she approached, in all her glittering elegance. My heart and conscious was in turmoil, but I knew I probably would not get a second chance. I could not let her get away unscathed. Beside, from the shock of being confronted with a masked scoundrel wielding a wicked blade, she would be in no shape to recognize her assailant. She stopped, apprehensively looking back towards the bright lights of the Manor, Then turning back I saw she had a self-satisfied smile creeping upon her face. She reached up, and undoing her hair, shook it down, curls of softness cascading down, hanging loosely down. It was as she performed this provocative act, that I saw her eyes open wide in curiosity; she had spied my pretty little “prism”. The charming fish was hooked.
I waited, watching her approaching ever closer to fate, and from my concealment, I basked in her glow. My heart beating fast, my adrenaline pumping, for the remaining jewels (I thought of her necklace in my custody) that she possessed I already had witnessed were quite valuable. She passed my hiding spot and went to the hanging, shimmering object. As she reached up, looking around, she failed to see me approaching in the shadows. I came up from behind, jabbing a finger in her back as I reached her, I gruffly in no uncertain terms, snarled for her to freeze and make no sound. She stiffened under my touch, but made no move or outcry. I went around; pointing my knife in her direction, looking into her sad doe wide eyes as she realized what was going to happen next. She was trembling; from fear I guessed, and knew I had her right where I wanted. As I made my demands upon her, gimme them jewels sister, she, not surprisingly, was very compliant in giving them up to me. She reached for her necklace last, and looked entirely shocked to find her throat bare, as she searched the neckline of her gown I saw her look into my hand, now dripping with her precious jewelry, almost as if to see if she had not already removed it. She looked apologetically into my eyes, startled; almost pleading that she didn’t know what had happened to it. I just played dump. She than spoke for the first time, sir, may I ask to keep my purse? Her words would have instantly melted even the coldest chunk of ice, I looked down at the little silvery clutch hanging from her arm on its rhinestone chain, I nodded, indicating that she could, and saw relief wash over her face. I told her she now needed to turn around and walk off into the woods ahead of me. She hesitated, and I told her no harm would befall her, I had no intentions along those lines.
About 5 meters in I stopped her, and had her remove her shoes, as she bent over to undo the high heels rhinestone clasps I watched her gown tightly outlining her figure. She tripped on the hem of her gown, and as she attempted to keep her balance, accidently let her purse slip off her shoulder. Without thinking I reached down to pick it up for her as she tried reached for it simultaneously
The small purse was far heavier than it should have been. Curious I opened it, finding that it contained a rather extensive array of mismatched jewelry, glittering in unbelievably expensive fire . I looked into Katrina’s horror struck eyes dumb founded, as she looked guiltily into mine. The gig was up. The jewels belonged to the lady of the manor, my muse in silver was a thief, a female version of me very self.
Aye, what’s this than luv? I questioned her as she looked into my eyes, hers large with a mixture of fright and disbelief. She melted before me, fainting, I caught her in my arms, and it was no ruse. I held her as she came to, holding her warm, silky figure lovingly to mine. I did not know what to think. Nor could I ever explain what possessed me to do what I did next. As she came to, her eyes opened, and I removed my mask, looking back into them deeply.
Oh, she gasped, I’m glad it was you, startled that she had said the words out loud. She than started to coyly blushes, quite demurely. Something sparked in me, and unless she was an incredibly good actress, it did also for Katrina. Our eyes both looked into the others, melting away in the lust of the moment. We embraced, deeply, and I held her squirming warm slick figure tight in my enveloping arms. I looked over her shoulder, eyeing the glistening bracelet hanging from its branch. To catch a thief, the thought suddenly opened in my mind, what a great title for a novel I thought to myself, as I buried my nose into Katrina’s luxuriously soft hair.
We talked for a bit, walking off into the woods, then she looked into my eyes again, a coy, look that melted me on the spot, and that was the end of it, we embraced again, and wholly gave ourselves to one another. What about your man I asked suddenly remembering, my man she questioned , than oh, you mean the Lord, I was waiting for him to come down from smoking in his tower study, that’s where the lady’s jewels are kept. She broke into an Irish brogue as she said the last bit, and that I guessed was her natural tongue. she laid a hand on the side of my face, thanks for being jealous though, me lad.
I should collect my lure I said, which made her smile; it was such an enticing smile at that. We started to head back and watched as it dangled in front of us flickering. With a far off look in her green eyes, Katrina spoke as if in deep though.
The daughter of the house, she has a bracelet on like the one you have dangling, a bracelet of diamonds that I had taken a fancy to, wishing it had been in the safe along with the rest of the ladies of manors jewelry. I knew who she was talking about. The one in green taffeta I asked? Aye lad, that’s the one. Actually her necklace would be just as easy, and worth more I said. Just then her bright green eyes gleamed, Give me about a half an hour, she told me, we will put your little lure to use again. She noticed my hesitation, don’t worry luv she said soothingly placing a gloved hand to my cheek, no longer was it sparkly with its stolen bracelet and rings. I’ll leave my purse with you, can’t very well be carrying it around now can I? I nodded my consent, my mind burning with the thoughts she had alluringly placed there.
She turned, and then hesitated; turning back she said I probably should not go back in naked luv. I smiled, reaching in I pulled out her necklace and placed it around her throat. With a little gasp she blurted, so it was you, I was wondering who and when it had happened. It’s not the first time I’ve had me jewels lifted, but it’s a bloody annoyance to have to let them get away with it, crawls under my skin to have pretend not to notice so that I don’t draw any attention to me self before making my move to steal the posh ones jewels.
But you, mister, I never felt as much as a prickling. I was ready to assume my pretties had been a victim of a broken clasp this time. I gave a little nod in acceptance. That wasn’t exactly a compliment lad, she said in what I hopped was a subtle jest. Just last summer some clumsy bugger slipped of me earrings, my favorite pearls, as we were danc… she stopped, seeing the guilt in my eyes. Men! As thieves you are all of the same skin she spat out angrily, or attempted to sound angry, for the look in her eyes to me she wasn’t. I best be off, before I change me mind about out little endeavor.
With that she swirled around on her heels, and started off, but not before turning and giving me an extremely coy look of interest. As she swirled back around I heard her say loud enough for my ears, I’ll learn me self to be a picker of pockets, see how males like to be taken advantage of in their vulnerabilities! She nodded to herself as she said it. Then suddenly she stopped, than twirled on her heels, her gown swirling enticingly along her figure. Looking me dead in the eye she said, “Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie” !
What does that mean? I questioned in a low voice, perplexed.
Maybe, Mon Cheri, someday I will tell you… And with that she turned on her heel, her gown once again swirling about, and went, determinedly, swishing her way back up the path. I just watched. I had never heard anyone speak French with an Irish Brogue and I had found it to be rather provocative!
I watched as she swished and swayed her way back through the hedge and regained the path leading back to the manor. Her plan was simple; she would lead the daughter of the house to my corner and as she had done, go out with her to look at the swinging charm. I would then make my appearance, rob both ladies of their finery, and telling the daughter to wait until I released her friend, walk off with Katrina as a hostage, and we would both take off and make good our escape. A simple plan, so simple it should actually work.
So, there I was. Holding a purse with a small fortune in jewels, my pocket full of more jewels worth an additional pretty farthing, and her charms were wearing off by her leaving. And my thieving nature coming back, reawakened from the spell they had been under!
The devil of my conscious crept out on my shoulder, the angel markedly absent from the other.
Look mate, she may not be all she seems, and possibly has some other game in mind. Maybe she does have a male confidante helping her out… and was actually on her way to fetch him. He said in my inner ear. And, after all, you took her diamonds twice, didn’t ye now? Do you really think shell forgive you of that me lad?
And there is no honor amongst thieves, as the saying goes, he added as a closing argument...
I rolled it over in my mind…I could leave, absconding with it all, book a cruise to the states or down under where there lay untried fertile grounds to ply my trade. Not to mention working over my fellow passengers aboard the cruise ship while they attended the fancy affairs that were always going on, or so the brochures always seemed to show……
Then In the distance I caught a wisp of Katrina’s long silvery gown. She was coming, and not only with the daughter of the manor, but also with a spare. For I could see a purple coloured gown swishing alongside with the prey in rustling green taffeta.. I watched as all three ladies, resplendent with the rippling fiery gems they all possessed, came up the path, gowns sweeping out , shimmery from the now misty distance.
The thought of making my escape with all the loot continued to haunt me, there was still time now to take off without notice, or I could rob all three, and leave with purple silk as my hostage, Katrina would not be able to say anything on chance of giving up her part of the game, or I could just be a good lad and sty with the script that Katrina had written. Take a chance, roll the dice and believe that she was all she had me believing she could ever be.
As they came closer I knew my time was running out. The thoughts of just looking out for myself kept coming up playing the devil with my conscience as the precious seconds ticked away…
No honor amongst thieves…
What will it be, old boy I challenged myself,
What will you have it be?........
To see what his decision ultimately was, and the eventual path it led to, see the album question answered)
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Life is not about waiting out the storm, but about learning to dance in the rain.
Vie ne est pas d'attendre que la tempête , mais d'apprendre à danser sous la pluie .
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Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgware_Road,_London
Edgware Road (Arabic: شارع العرب), is a major street which passes through the west of central London, England, in the City of Westminster. The southern part of the road, noted for its distinct Arab flavour and many late-night bars and shisha cafes, is known to Londoners by nicknames such as "Little Cairo,"[1][2] "Little Beirut,"[3] etc.
As a road, it runs north-west from Marble Arch, and as the A5 road, passes underneath Marylebone Road, through Maida Vale, Kilburn and Cricklewood (as Cricklewood Broadway). It is joined by the North Circular Road before West Hendon at Staples Corner. After this, the road continues even further north, through The Hyde, Colindale, Burnt Oak, and finally, to Edgware.
The southernmost part of the road forms part of the London Inner Ring Road and as such is part of the boundary of the London congestion charge zone. However, when the zone was extended in February 2007, the road became part of one of the "free through routes" which allows vehicles to cross the zone during its hours of operation without paying the charge.
Certain stretches of the road are named separately. 'Edgware Road' is used for three such stretches; the other six are known as Maida Vale, Kilburn High Road, Shoot up Hill, Cricklewood Broadway, West Hendon Broadway, and The Hyde.
As an informal district of London, its southern boundary is Cumberland Gate, just south of Marble Arch and at the north-east corner of Hyde Park.[4]. The district's northern boundary is the Marylebone flyover.[4]
The postal codes of the area are W1, W2 and NW1.
The portion of the road stretching between Marble Arch and the Marylebone Flyover also separates the areas of Marylebone and Bayswater.
Before the Romans, today's Edgware Road began as an ancient trackway within the Great Middlesex Forest.[4] The Romans later incorporated the track into Watling Street.[4]
Hyde Park toll gate.Centuries later, the road was improved by the Edgware-Kilburn turnpike trust in 1711, and a number of the local inns functioned as a stop for coaches, some of which still exist.
During the 18th century, it was a destination for Huguenot migrants.[4] By 1811, Thomas Telford produced a re-design for what was then known as a section of the London to Holyhead road, a redesign considered one of the most important feats of pre-Victorian engineering.[4]; Telford's redesign emerged only a year after the area saw the establishment of Great Britain's first Indian restaurant.[4]
The area began to attract Arab migrants in the late 19th century during a period of increased trade with the Ottoman Empire. The trend continued with the arrival of Egyptians in the 1950s, and greatly expanded beginning in the 1970s and continuing to the present when events including the Lebanese Civil War, the overthrow of the Shah of Iran, and unrest in Algeria brought more Arabs to the area.[4]. They established the present-day mix of bars and shisha cafes, which make the area known to Londoners by nicknames such as "Little Cairo"[5][2] and "Little Beirut."[3] These shisha cafés have been hard hit by the enforcement of the England-wide smoking ban in 2007.
One of the two Edgware Road tube stations was one of the sites of the 7 July bombings. A bomb was detonated on a train leaving the tube station serving the Circle, District and Hammersmith & City lines) and heading for Paddington tube station. Six people were killed in the blast: Colin Morley, 52, Jennifer Vanda Ann Nicholson, 22, Johnathan Downey, 34, Laura Webb, 29, Michael Brewster, 52, and David Foulkes, 22. The perpetrator was the ringleader of the 7 July bombings, Mohammed Siddique Khan. On the first anniversary of the bombings, a memorial plaque to the victims was unveiled at the station.
The southernmost part of the road, south of the junction with Marylebone Road, is noted for its distinct Arab flavour. Many Lebanese restaurants, shisha cafes and Arabic-themed nightclubs line the street. The Odeon cinema, once the location of the biggest screen in London, often shows films in Arabic.
Edgware Road is unique as a district, rich in ethnic culture, yet also in a very central area of London.[6]. The area is known for its distinctive and diverse communities from across the Middle East and Africa, with Iranian comedian Omid Djalili describing Edgware Road as being "after Damascus, Medina and Mecca, is probably the most Islamic place on the planet." [7] [8]
In addition to branches of the typical Starbucks, Pret a Manger, Subway and Costa Coffee chains, Edgware Road is home to several Maroush restaurants, a whisky bar named Salt and a large variety of kebab and shawarma restaurants that remain open through the night.[citation needed] Edgware Road is noted for containing within it the famous Church Street Market.
A Wetherspoons tavern, The Tyburn, is named after the 'Tyburn tree', once the principal site of execution in London. Today, three golden triangles indicate the location of the tree, at the southernmost end of Edgware Road.
A Marriott Hotel is situated to the east of the road on George Street, between Marble Arch and the Marylebone flyover.
The Seymour Leisure Centre lies on Seymour Place.
The University of London has residences on Brown Street, east of Edgware Road, and in Sussex Gardens and Talbot Square, to its west.
The York Building is currently under construction. It will house luxury apartments, office space as well as retail area on its ground level.
The Comfort Inn Edgware Road is located in a walkable distance from Edgware Road & Marble Arch tube station.
The Hilton London Metropole Hotel is located in a walkable distance from both Edgware Road underground stations.
Mainline rail stations:
Marylebone station
Paddington station
London Underground stations:
Edgware Road tube station (Bakerloo Line)
Edgware Road tube station (Circle, District and Hammersmith & City Lines)
Marble Arch tube station
Marylebone tube station
Paddington tube station
Canadian Museum For Human Rights Indigenous Gallery REDress Project.
The REDress Project by Jaime Black is a public art installation created in response to the missing and murdered Indigenous women (MMIW) epidemic in Canada and the United States.
The on-going project commemorates missing and murdered indigenous women from the First Nations, Inuit, Métis(FNIM), and Native Americancommunities by hanging empty red dresses in a range of environments.
Founded in 2009, The REDress Project was first exhibited at the University of Winnipeg Campus in Winnipeg, Manitoba, with over one hundred dresses displayed across the campus.
The REDress Project has travelled to over 50 locations across Canada and Internationally and has been shown at the National Arts Centre in Ottawa, Ontario, the National Museum of The American Indian in Washington, DC.and is on permanent display at The Canadian Museum For Human Rights in Winnipeg.
Indigenous women face higher rates of violence than any other cultural group in Canada and the United States.
Indigenous families and communities have been advocating for generations to make changes to the colonial system that often treat the perpetrators of this violence with impunity.
The REDress Project works to create space for families of MMIWG (missing or murdered Indigenous women and girls) to tell their stories and to find support and solidarity in the struggle to protect their loved ones.
The project provides a space to hear from frontline community workers, Indigenous women academics, elders and knowledge keepers on how we can work together as a community to bring justice to MMIWG and their families.
May 5 is National Day of Awareness for Missing & Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls and 2SLGBTQI+ people (MMIWG2S). it's also known as "Red Dress Day,"
Visited Auschwitz. The inhumanity and evilness of acts perpetrated there against human beings are something that are very hard to fathom.
This memorial commemorates the massacre of 40 people inside the seminary which was committed by the Germans on 2nd August 1944 - the day after the outbreak of the Warsaw Uprising. The victims were herded into a small basement room and then killed with grenades and machine gun fire, after which their bodies were burned....
It's one of several "Tchorek plaques" that have been vandalised. These memorials were installed at World War 2 martyrdom sites in Warsaw from the 1950s until the end of the communist era in Poland, and most of them commemorate German atrocities that took place during the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. They always refer to the perpetrators as "Hitlerowcy" ("Hitlerites").
But in October 2021 somebody who clearly had a problem with this decided that it would be a great idea to superglue the word "Niemcy" ("Germans") over the word "Hitlerowcy". Presumably they must have thought that the people of Warsaw had no idea who the Hitlerites were....
Tchorek plaques: stillunusual.tumblr.com/post/160904663281/tchorek-plaque
-Partisans are to be ruthlessly eliminated in battle or during attempts to escape. Attacks by the civilian population are to be suppressed by the Army on the spot by using extreme measures.
-Every officer in German occupation in the 'East of the future' will be entitled to perform executions without trial on any person suspected of having hostile attitude towards the Germans.
-If you have not managed to identify and punish the perpetrators of Anti-German acts, You are allowed to apply the principle of collective measures against residents of the area where the attack occurred.
-German soldiers who commit crimes against humanity , The USSR , and Prisoners of War are to be exempted from criminal responsibility.... Even if they commit acts punishable according to German law.
-Babarossa Decree, Laid out by Hitler March 30 1941.
China, Yangtze river, coal-burning power plant
Published in The True Cost of Coal Ash in China
DEC 21, 2016 :: "Smog refugees flee Chinese cities"
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APR 2005 From the Aeon of Regional Conflicts and World Wars,
to the Epoch of Clashing Civilizations & Global Uniculturalism.
[-] Notes from bilwander's suspended Facebook, now >here [-]
In the times of Globalization & the "progressive" illusion of Multicultural "Coexistence" ( i.e. devastative global uniculturalism ), Clashing Civilizations, Proxy Wars, Blind Terrorism, Uncontrolled Breeding and Consumerism, are ending this World, while ... Comics of ... Iconomics make the most epic failure ever of Democracy in the, so to say, developed societies.
Virtual Economies (thus Iconomies) generating elitist wealth out of deregulated money supply, leveraged credit expansion, permanently rolling-over and exponentially rising debt , impossible to be paid-off in any visible future, along with unsustainable consumption and "growth", and, in the end, extreme global socio-economic, geopolitical, environmental and even health crises.
Crises of Massive Poverty, Misery and Migration, on a planet already crowded, littered, polluted and exploited to its limits; a planet where the wealthy suffer from diseases of affluence & longevity, and contaminated food, while the poor die early from malnutrition and lack of basic hygiene and medical care.
World Population and Inequality (Wealth Distribution Gap) grow faster than the Gross World Product (GWP) while Natural Resources are Draining Out, and Long-term Structural Unemployment & Poverty will deterministically continue to rise for at least this whole century as far as Governments and Peoples continue to ignore and defy the most crucial macroeconomic parameter (i.e. World Demographic Trend) and the factors (Population Size & Quality) that define the Welfare Equation. In simple words : :
The More People On Earth The Much Worse Their Life Gets
The Mother of All Evil and Misery
In The Epoch of the Infinite Evolution of Artificial Intelligence, and Robotics and Eugenics, the forecasts for World Poverty are gravely pessimistic as far as the vast majority of people continue to over-exercise Outdated Reproductive Rights, without basic knowledge, responsibility and resources, or, even worse, with criminal and/or genetically detrimental records, factually instigating and perpetrating the most massive, continuous and silent Genocidal Crime of human history alongside an Overpopulation of self-condemned people ...
A more than obvious global crime, yet ignored and absent from any agenda, a taboo not even to be quoted within a defiant World Society and an idle Academic Community; the Mother of All Evil and Misery, a ticking time-bomb of total destruction whereas populist regimes and the hypocrisy of political correctness dominate and govern the populace ...
Family Planning, Genetic Engineering and, nowadays, Sexual Transgenderism (and eventually Androidification ) though yet far from consisting mainstream social procedures, and even with law deficits, are increasingly practiced altering already the traditional patterns of human reproduction and social institutions, thus defining the rise of a new epoch within the Anthropocene.
Qualitatively Controlled Human Reproduction by individual choice, assisted by Sperm & Ova Banks via Modified DNA and combination of superior genetic "materials" along with Artificial Intelligence, will eventually lead to intellectual and physical abilities, unprecedentedly superior to those of Homo Sapiens and its contemporary Universalis, so defining the species of the Androidified Human; a Homo Superius of “his/her/its” kind; the product of the Contemporary Dark Ages where Obsolete Reproductive Rights encroach and override Basic Human Rights, transforming the decadent democracies into de facto regimes of Extreme Populism, Anarchy, Illegalism, Oligarchy & Tyranny ....
In the future, most likely, even fewer countries and smaller populations than today will be able to obtain & maintain high standards of living, provided that they manage to sustain robust, technologically advanced and fiscally+monetarily disciplined economies, secured energy self-sufficiency/accessibility, demographic sustainability along with social security and geopolitical stability with effective control & regulation of the migration influx and its intensifying impact and destabilizing potential on the function of the, so to say, 'developed' economies and societies, and presuming that a global catastrophe like a nuclear war or a galactic "accident" would not eventually occur on planet Earth ....
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It's the People, stupid ! (15 APR 2016)
As usual, Soros just speaks out about preserving the Bubble of World Economy for as long as possible...
Who does actually care or can make a difference about next generations, peoples, people, proxy wars, clashing civilizations, migrants or refugees ? ... simply no one
The Bubble, like any bubble, has an undated, but deterministically approaching Burst Out Day .... and the World is already bankrupt in effect and long before the evolving Economic Meltdown, just because of its unregulated and unsustainable population size .....
It's the (Too Many & Stupid) People, Stupid !
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related tweets to :
In a week that has seen a further callous shooting of a red kite in the Harrogate area I thought it fitting to show what a wonderful bird they are. I find it impossible to comprehend the mindless actions of those who deliberately harm these great birds. Hopefully the perpetrator of the 5 shootings will get his just deserts. Feeling very saddened.
Proceeds of Speak Your Silence Event SL will go to RAINN.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/BOSL%20INNOVATION%20PAVILL...
What is RAINN (Rape Abuse & Incest National Network)?
RAINN’s founder and CEO, Scott Berkowitz, leads a talented team of experts from the fields of victim services, communications, technology, and public policy. Together with the board of directors, they’ve helped RAINN become the nation’s largest anti-sexual violence organization.
RAINN'S MISSION
RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) is the nation's largest anti-sexual violence organization. RAINN created and operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline (800.656.HOPE, online.rainn.org y rainn.org/es) in partnership with more than 1,000 local sexual assault service providers across the country and operates the DoD Safe Helpline for the Department of Defense. RAINN also carries out programs to prevent sexual violence, help survivors, and ensure that perpetrators are brought to justice.
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click to activate the icon of slideshow: the small triangle inscribed in the small rectangle, at the top right, in the photostream;
or…. Press the “L” button to zoom in the image;
clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;
oppure…. premi il tasto “L” per ingrandire l'immagine;
www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...
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What happened three days ago is a very bad story, a 63-year-old man shot two women in the face, one 48 years old, the other 49 years old, and then took his own life, all of which happened in a town in the province of Catania, one of them allegedly had an extramarital affair with the killer: in 2022 120 women were killed, 97 of them were killed in the family or emotional sphere, of these 57 died for hand of the partner or former partner. This tragic and sad incipit linked to the ever-present drama of feminicides, to introduce the photographic story that I made in the town of Savoca (Messina - Sicily) on 08/13/2022, of a very particular representation that was held last time in August 2018; is a narration that pits Evil (a devil armed with a long grappling hook) against Good (Saint Lucia, who holds a silver palm leaf in her hands), the Evil-Devil tries to seduce-distract Saint Lucia with own grappling hook, instead Saint Lucia remains impassive in front of her flattery: violence against women in this very suggestive representation finds distant and deep roots, Saint Lucia actually represents those women who in medieval times had to suffer the abuses perpetrated by the Baron of Savoca nicknamed "Barone Altadonna", which making use of the law "ius primae noctis" (from the Latin "right of the first night"), referred to the "right" according to which a feudal lord could rape a newly married woman on her wedding night. Therefore, this is a photographic narration that speaks of the eternal struggle that takes place between good and evil, which speaks of a dark period of history, speaks of the violence suffered by women but also by those who belonged to the poorest social classes, historical facts that have been handed down to us in the form of a story and associated-transmuted in the martyrdom of Saint Lucia, this is what happens in the town of Savoca (Sicily). This is a report of the living representation of the martyrdom of Saint Lucia (patron saint of the city of Savoca); the cult of the young Saint of Syracuse seems to date back to the fifteenth century, under the influence of Spanish traditions. The living re-enactment of the history of St. Lucia takes place on two consecutive days, Saturday and Sunday: here I try to tell some moments of Saturday, the day during which the celebration does not take place in its full beauty, it is the day during which "the silver palm" is delivered "from the Lucia of the previous edition" to the "Lucia of the current edition", it is the day during which the last details are tested, above all the "impassivity of the little girl who impersonates Saint Lucia", lovingly called "the Lucia".. And 'This is a historical event which speaks of Demons and Angels: Saint Lucy refused to marry a rich and powerful suitor (Lucy declared She was married in Christ), which reported the Christian faith of Lucia to prefect Pascasio that ordered his Praetorian Guard to drag Lucia with a rope to a place of prostitution; legend has it that the Holy became heavy, they then tried to drag it with the help of oxen, but it was impossible to move it from where he stood; failing in this, it was then given the order to cavarle eyes, but the young martyr (native of Syracuse) her eyes reappeared.
In the village of Savoca a young girl, affectionately called the "Lucy" is carried on the shoulder of a porter along the streets of the country (sitting on a pillow tied on the shoulder of a man, but in fact men are two); the young Saint remains impassive in the face of demonic temptations: the Devil, called in Sicilian dialect "u Diavulazzu, shake, shakes, turns his pitchfork in an attempt to "distract" the Saint.
The first day of this representation, on Saturday, in an old church in Savoca, the two girls who impersonate the Lucia, of the current year and the previous year, meet with the delivery of palm; the traditional event which we witness on Saturday, has all the appearance of an important rehearsal for the next day, on Sunday when the traditional festival will take place in all its beauty.
Sunday: on top of the procession there are the "Jews" (the emissaries of the prefect Pascasio) along with some Angels, is located immediately after the wagon drawn by two cows from which branches off a rope that will arrive to Saint Lucia (a girl of six years); between her and the cows there are Roman soldiers, who make their way through the crowd squirming like crazy; to hold the rope there are also male figures; the job of Devil (his mask is made of wood, whose invoice is dated, it seems, of the 400') is to distract the little Saint with the help of a long stick equipped of curved points, called "u 'croccu": Lucia hardly is deceived by the promises of the evil one, she will not abandon the state of her property concentration, aided in this by staring, almost in a trance, a small palm branch in silver , she brings devoutly in her hands.It's very important to mention the Baron Baldassarre (nicknamed Baron Altadonna), who applied without any hesitation the practice of Jus de seigneur: using this law the Baron obliged the young brides to spend the wedding night in his alcove. It 'very possible that in the representation of Saint Lucia of Savoca the character of the Devil tempting young Santa with his pitchfork, in reality is nothing but himself, Baron Altadonna, so allegorically described in this traditional Sicilian feast: the figure of the Devil if one takes into account what historians relate, does not belong more to the legend, but sadly to actual event happened.
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E' una bruttissima storia quanto accaduto tre giorni fa, un uomo di 63 anni, ha ucciso a colpi di pistola in pieno volto due donne, una di 48 anni, l'altra di 49 anni, per poi togliersi la vita, il tutto accaduto in una cittadina in provincia di Catania, una di loro avrebbe avuto una relazione extraconiugale con l'assassino: nel 2022 sono state 120 le donne uccise, 97 di loro sono state uccise in ambito familiare o affettivo, di queste 57 hanno trovato la morte per mano del partner o ex partner. Questo tragico e triste incipit legato al sempre attuale dramma dei femminicidi, per introdurre il racconto fotografico che ho realizzato nella cittadina di Savoca (Messina - Sicilia) il 13/08/2022, di una particolarissima rappresentazione che si era tenuta l'ultima volta nell'agosto del 2018; è una narrazione che vede contrapposto il Male (un diavolo armato di un lungo rampino), al Bene (Santa Lucia, che stringe tra le mani una foglia di palma d'argento), il Male-Diavolo tenta di sedurre-distrarre Santa Lucia col proprio rampino, invece Santa Lucia resta impassibile davanti le sue lusinghe: la violenza sulle donne in questa rappresentazione molto suggestiva, trova radici lontane e profonde, Santa Lucia in realtà rappresenta quelle donne che in epoca medioevale dovevano subire gli abusi perpetrati dal Barone di Savoca soprannominato "Barone Altadonna", che avvalendosi della legge "ius primae noctis" (dal latino "diritto della prima notte"), si riferiva al “diritto” secondo cui un signore feudale poteva violentare una donna appena sposata durante la sua prima notte di nozze. Quindi questa è una narrazione fotografica che parla dell'eterna lotta che avviene tra il bene ed il male, che parla di un periodo buio della storia, che parla delle violenze subite dalle donne ma anche da tutti coloro che appartenevano alle classi sociali più povere, fatti storici che sono stati tramandati fino a noi in forma di racconto ed associati-trasmutati nel martirio di Santa Lucia, questo è quanto accade nel paese di Savoca (Sicilia). Questo è un report della rappresentazione vivente del martirio di Santa Lucia (Santa patrona della città di Savoca); il culto della giovane Santa di Siracusa sembra risalire al XV secolo, sotto l'influenza delle tradizioni spagnole. La rievocazione vivente della storia di Santa Lucia avviene in due giornate consecutive, il sabato e la domenica: qui tento di raccontare alcuni momenti della giornata del sabato, giorno durante il quale la festa non si svolge nel pieno della sua bellezza, è il giorno durante il quale “la palma d’argento” viene consegnata “dalla Lucia della edizione precedente” alla “Lucia dell’attuale edizione”, è il giorno durante il quale si testano gli ultimi dettagli, soprattutto si mette alla prova “l’impassibilità della bambina che impersona Santa Lucia”, chiamata amorevolmente “la Lucia”. E' questa una rievocazione storica che parla di Demoni ed Angeli: la storia rievoca di quando la Santa, si rifiutò di andare in sposa ad un suo ricco e potente pretendente (essendosi dichiarata Cristiana e sposa in Cristo), il quale per vendetta riferì della fede Cristiana di Lucia al prefetto Pascasio; costui diede ordine ai suoi pretoriani di trascinare Lucia con una corda fino ad un lupanare, un luogo di prostituzione; la leggenda narra che la Santa divenne pesantissima, si tentò allora di trascinarla con l'ausilio dei buoi, ma fu impossibile smuoverla da dove si trovava; non riuscendo in ciò, fu allora dato l'ordine di cavarle gli occhi, ma alla giovane martire (nativa di Siracusa) gli occhi le rispuntarono. Nel paese di Savoca una giovane ragazza, chiamata con affetto "la Lucia" viene portata in spalla lungo le vie del paese (seduta su di un cuscino legato sulla spalla di un uomo; in realtà gli uomini portatori sono due, dandosi il cambio l'un l'altro); la giovane Santa rimane impassibile di fronte alle tentazioni demoniache: il Diavolo, chiamato in dialetto siciliano "u Diavulazzu, agita, scuote, fa ruotare il suo forcone nel tentativo di "distrarre" la Santa ma, vani saranno i suoi tentativi. Il primo giorno di questa rappresentazione, il sabato, in una vecchia chiesa di Savoca, le due bambine che impersonano la Lucia, dell'anno in corso e dell'anno precedente, si incontrano con la consegna della palma da una bimba all'altra; l'evento tradizionale al quale si assiste il sabato, ha tutto l'aspetto di una importante prova generale per il giorno dopo, quando la domenica la festa tradizionale avverrà in tutta la sua bellezza. La domenica: in cima alla processione ci sono i "Giudei" (gli emissari del prefetto Pascasio) insieme ad alcuni Angeli, subito dopo si trova il carro tirato da due giumente dalle quali si diparte una corda che giungerà fino a cingere il fianco della bimba che impersona Santa Lucia (una bambina di sei anni); tra lei e le giumente ci sono i soldati Romani, che si fanno largo tra la folla dimenandosi a più non posso; a tenere la corda ci sono anche delle figure maschili che evitano che gli strattonamenti dei soldati romani possano giungere fino alla Santa (ricordiamolo, che è legata a quella corda); davanti alla Santa piroetta il diavolo tentatore, u' Diavulazzu (la maschera è in legno, la cui fattura è datata, sembra, del 400'), il cui compito è quello di distrarre la piccola Santa con l'aiuto di un lungo bastone dotato di punte ricurve, chiamato dialettalmente "u' croccu": Lucia difficilmente si lascerà ingannare dalle promesse del Maligno, non abbandonerà quel suo stato di immobile concentrazione, aiutata in ciò dal fissare, quasi in stato di trance, un piccolo ramo di palma in argento, che lei stringe devotamente tra le sue mani. E’ fondamentale menzionare tra i vari personaggi storici della tradizione, il barone Baldassarre, vissuto in Savoca in epoca medioevale, soprannominato barone Altadonna, che applicava senza remora alcuna la pratica della Jus primae noctis: avvalendosi di questa legge il barone obbligava le giovani spose a trascorrere la prima notte di nozze nella sua alcova. E’ fortemente ipotizzabile che nella rappresentazione di Santa Lucia di Savoca il personaggio del Diavolo che tenta la giovane Santa col suo forcone, in realtà non sia altro che egli stesso, il barone Altadonna, così allegoricamente descritto nella festa tradizionale siciliana: la figura del Diavolo, se si tiene conto di quanto narrano gli storici, non apparterrebbe più alla leggenda, ma a questo tristo personaggio realmente vissuto, che usava quotidianamente la moneta della prepotenza.