View allAll Photos Tagged resentment...
"someone just passed by and its only me who noticed.."
I'm haunted... but what's more scary is when we are haunted by our bitterness and resentments, when we always comes back to this same lesson in life cause we never learned and we never let go. When we just pretend to feel good cause it's what we want to be, but actually something is bugging us inside to be reconciled. We are haunted and no one sees it-only us, no one feels it-only us, unnoticed by anybody- but not to us. Sometimes it limits us, more than a prisoner or a fugitive, dragging our life, no peace, transient joy... empty.
"We... plead with you not to receive the GRACE of God in vain" 2 Cor. 6:1
A freaky friday!.... TGIF!
A magnolia flower that is gradually falling into decay. Looks more like the eye of Polyphemus, the cyclops. And, also, there is "Nobody" who will demolish this eye. Flowers die without resentment. Polyphemus, however, cursed the one who had blinded him and made sure that the gods (Poseidon) would make Odysseus' return home as difficult as possible. Flowers don't do such things. Part of their beauty.
The All Saints monastery was built in early XVIII century by St. Antim the Iverian, the Metropolitan bishop of Wallachia at the time. Nicolae Ciausescu, the Communist dictator of Romania, ordered to have the monastery demolished to make space for his Palace of the Parliament, but a group of engineers were able to save the historic church by convincing Ciausescu that they could move it on rails away from the construction site and "hide" it from his sight behind an apartment building.
St. Antim himself was a truly remarkable man with a truly tragic life story. He was born in Georgia (hence the Iverian moniker, as Georgia was known as Iveria at the time), captured by the Ottomans and sold as a slave in Constantinople. At the slave market he caught an eye of the Orthodox Patriarch who rescued him from slavery and taught him. St. Antim proved to be truly brilliant, learned fluently many languages and sciences, and set up the first printing press in the principality of Wallachia, pre-cursor of modern Romania, and even traveled to Tbilisi to set up the first printing press in his native Georgia. St. Antim rose to head the Orthodox church in Romania, supported and inspired efforts to free the country from the Ottoman yoke. This arose resentment by an Ottoman-appointed princeling who ruled in Bucharest, who banished him to another part of the Turkish domain. On the way to be exiled somewhere in modern-day Bulgaria, he was murdered. St. Antim was canonized in 1990's.
Монастырь Всех Святых был построен в начале XVIII века Св. Антимом Иверийцем, митрополитом Валахии. В 1980-е гг. при Чаушеску монастырь собирались снести чтобы освободить место для строительства Дворца Парламента, но группа инженеров смогла спасти историческую церковь, убедив диктатора, что они смогут её сдвинуть на рельсах в сторону от стройки и "спрятать" в одном из дворов.
Св. Антим Ивериец, основатель монастыря, был выдающимся человеком с очень трагичной судьбой. Он родился и вырос в Грузии, был схвачен во время набега турков, обращён в рабство, и продавался на невольничьем рынке в Констанополе. По счастливой случайности, он приглянулся Патриарху, который его выкупил и обучил. Св. Антим стал одним из самых просвещённых иерархов Православной церкви, свободно владевшим несколькими языкаи. Он основал первый печатный станок в Румынии, а также вернувшись на время в родную Грузию основал первый печатный станок в Тбилиси. Приняв сан митрополита он поддерживал и вдохновлял попытки свергнуть турецкое иго в Румынии, чем вызвал гнев князька, назначенного в Бухарест Портой. Он приказал сослать Св. Антима из Румынии; по пути в ссылку, где-то в Болгарии, он был убит. Св. Антим был канонизирован в 1990-е гг.
Writing about human suffering runs many risks, and most of these risks have been the subject of to much commentary. But there is also the artifice of packaging something so it offends the senses, but not too much. Surely, this too is a marker of a lost innocence. I have come to terms with the fact that I will never be asked to write, or even reflect overmuch on what is described in these pages, because in Haiti, I am asked to do only one thing: be a doctor, to serve the destitute sick. And since none of my patients can pay for my services, it is my job, my great privilege, to draw attention to the suffering of the poor and to bring resources to bear on the problems that are remediable. Most are.
I contemplate my own loss of innocence with resentment, sometimes in even in tearful silence. From whom can I demand it back? As Garcia Lorca said, "Things that go away never return-everybody knows that."
Everybody knows that things that go away never return.
-Paul Farmer, Cange, Haiti, March 8, 2000, afterword to the Pathologies of Power
“The value of a smile is priceless. It can make someone’s day brighter and lift their spirits.”
“The value of love is immeasurable. It has the power to heal, inspire, and transform lives.”
“The true value of wealth is not in its accumulation, but in how it is used to make a positive impact in the world.”
“The value of integrity is the foundation of trust. It is what separates the true leaders from the rest.”
“The true measure of a person’s worth is not their possessions, but the impact they have on the world.”
“The value of education is not in the accumulation of knowledge, but in the ability to apply it for the betterment of society.”
“The value of time is the most precious of all commodities. Once it’s gone, it cannot be regained.”
“The value of honesty cannot be overstated. It builds trust and forms the foundation of all relationships.”
“The value of forgiveness is not only in freeing the other person, but in releasing ourselves from the burden of resentment.”
“The value of friendship lies in the unconditional support, laughter, and love shared between friends.”
“The value of empathy is in its ability to connect us to others on a deeper level and foster understanding.”
Unknown Author/s
There is a wonderful group of community-minded people in Launceston's Inveresk precinct. In a place at the heart of the Museum at Inveresk and the city campus of the University of Tasmania, we find an artistic studio, community gardens and this amazing idea, The Sharing Shed. This is community spirit in action, and in a world where selfishness, greed and the politics of resentment grows to dangerous proportions, this community gives us some reason for hope.
.Why do we tend to focus on black thoughts, resentment, darkness and will-o'-the-wisps when there is plenty of light?
The man who betrays Him day after day, drunk with vanity, resentment, or reckless ambition, lives in a ghostly mist of mis-givings. Having ruined love with greed, he is still wondering about the lack of tenderness in his own life. His soul contains a hiding-place for an escaping conscience. He has torn his ties to God into shreds of shrieking dread, and his mind remains dull and callous. Spoiler of his own lot, he walks the earth a skeleton of a soul, raving about missed delight.
--Abraham Joshua Heschel, Man’s Quest for God: Studies in Prayer and Symbolism
(aka "All Our Failings Exposed")
"When routine bites hard and ambitions are low
And resentment rides high, but emotions won't grow
And we're changing our ways, taking different roads"
(Ian Curtis)
Elegy for Everything Ever Lost (including that one toy soldier I misplaced at age 7): Swans - Love Will Tear Us Apart (Joy Division cover)
Location: Gaia Rising
I know I'm always like telling everybody "You don't gotta be a victim Life ain't always fair, but hell is living in resentment. Choose redemption, your happy ending's up to you".
So I think it's time to practice what I preach.Exorcise the demons inside me, gotta learn to let it go.🎶.
Featuring
💐 Blog: suegeelidecuir.com/2018/03/03/learn-to-let-go.
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Vista Animations Diana Bento Head.
Maitreya Lara Mesh Body.
Insol Carrie Skin & Shape(modified).
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Vanity Hair Miss Coco.
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Lyrium Bento Series Set 7 Pose 4 and Set 4 Pose 5.
Prifysgol Glashcu/ Glasgow University
ailtire: George Gilbert Scott
"Construction started on 4 April 1867 but a strike of masons delayed the work and it was not until 8 October 1868 that the Prince of Wales, accompanied by the Princess, laid the foundation stone. By that time, Thompson had 750 men working on the site, constructing the building from Griffnock and Bannockburn stone, and it was anticipated that the south front would be roofed in during the following month. [Gilbert] Scott’s drawing was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1869.
The new building was opened on 7 November 1870 although Scott’s great design was far from complete. The central tower was no higher than the ridges of the adjacent wings and the foundations of the Great Hall had not been started. Scott had intended that the tower would be a giant version of the Kelham and Preston towers, incorporating eighteen feet diameter clock faces at the base of the spire, but it was only completed after Scott’s death, when John Oldrid replaced the clock and spire with the existing open-work affair.
As with much of Scott’s ecclesiastical work, money was also a problem at Glasgow University. By the end of 1870, £420,000 had been expended on the buildings. The sale of the old site and a government grant had realised a mere £138,900 and the rest of the money was raised by subscription. Although there was still much to do, including the Great Hall, funds were now exhausted.
The Builder, unusually critical of Scott, felt that his endeavour to graft a late Scottish Baronial style onto his own Domestic Gothic style ‘fairly fails in the attempt’. After the Government Offices, this was Scott’s largest and most expensive building but soured by ‘Greek’ Thomson’s vicious attack against both Scott’s appointment and his architecture. He was bitterly opposed to the work going to an architect outside Glasgow, but he may also have been harbouring some resentment over the way that Scott had been so successful with the Albert Memorial, compared with the way that his own spectacular design was dismissed out of hand. Thomson was right that the Glaswegian architects had nothing to fear. The invasion from the south never really happened and Scott’s only other building in Glasgow was St Mary’s Church." - gilbertscott.org/buildings/glasgow-university-glasgow
dall'album di John Cale e Lou Reed dedicato a A. Warhol, SONGS FOR DRELLA .
Andy, it's me, haven't seen you in a while
I wished I talked to you more when you were alive
I thought you were self-assured when you acted shy
hello it's me
I really miss you, I really miss your mind
I haven't heard ideas like that in such a long, long time
I loved to watch you draw and watch you paint
but when I saw you last, I turned away
When Billy Name was sick and locked up in his room
you asked me for some speed, I though it was for you
I'm sorry that I doubted your good heart
things always seem to end before they start
Hello it's me, that was a great gallery show
your cow wallpaper and your floating silver pillows
I wish I paid more attention when they laughed at you
hello it's me
Pop goes pop artist, the headline said
Is shooting a put-on, is Warhol really dead
You get less time for stealing a car
I remember thinking as I heard my own record in a bar
They really hated you, now all that's changed
but I have some resentments that can never be unmade
You hit me where it hurt I didn't laugh
your diaries are not a worthy epitaph
Oh well, now Andy, guess we've got to go
I wish some way somehow you like this little show
I know it's late in coming but it's the only way I know
hello it's me
Goodnight, Andy
Goodbye, Andy
Life Before The Third Reich
Hall Display
Jewish Community Center
Tucson, Arizona, USA
Ten million Jews lived in Europe in the late 1930s
It was a continent overtaken by economic depression and racial/religious resentment.
Jews in Europe existed along a religious spectrum from strictly orthodox to highly secular; and along an economic spectrum from the crushing poverty of the vast majority to a small well to do elite of successful entrepreneurs.
- IMG_7005 - Version 2
School Building (exterior views)
“Initially a school in Weimar, growing political resentment forced the move to Dessau. Gropius took this as an opportunity to build a school that reflected his hopes for the education that would be had within it's walls. The style of the Dessau facilities hints at the more futuristic style of Gropius in 1914, also showing similarities to the International style more than the Neo-classic style. The extensive facilities in the plans of the Bauhaus at Dessau include spaces for teaching, housing for students and faculty members, an auditorium and offices, which were fused together in a pinwheel configuration. From the aerial view, this layout hints at the form of airplane propellers, which were largely manufactured in the surrounding areas of Dessau.” www.archdaily.com
After all you put me through
You′d think I'd despise you
But in the end, I wanna thank you
′Cause you made me that much stronger
Well, I thought I knew you
Thinkin' that you were true
Guess I, I couldn't trust, called your bluff
Time is up ′cause I′ve had enough
You were there by my side
Always down for the ride
But your joyride just came down in flames
'Cause your greed sold me out in shame, mhm
After all of the stealing and cheating
You probably think that I hold resentment for you
But uh-uh, oh no, you′re wrong
'Cause if it wasn′t for all that you tried to do
I wouldn't know just how capable
I am to pull through
So I wanna say thank you, ′cause it
Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
Makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter
The unmistakable expression of pleasure and relief on my face as I have resuced the Fuzz once again from his own self impending cranial trauma of leaping to the floor head first and splitting his head wide open.
On October 17, 1989, another large earthquake hit the city, damaging buildings, collapsing freeways and killing 67. A decade later, a boom centered on Internet technology began, drawing entrepreneurs to the city and raising rents, respectability and resentment in its rougher neighborhoods. The crowded city’s population, steady for decades, began to rise again.
For your knowledge, I decided to make my life more challenging and interesting so looked up "What does yellow represent" in Google and this was their response: "The Color Yellow. Yellow, the lightest hue of the spectrum, signifies joy, happiness, betrayal, optimism, caution, idealism, imagination, hope, sunshine, summer, gold, philosophy, dishonesty, cowardice, jealousy, covetousness, deceit, illness, hazard and friendship". So I decided to try my hand at jealousy, and found it a pretty big challenge, I hope you like what I have done.
With heartfelt and genuine thanks for your kind visit. Have a wonderful and beautiful day, be well, keep your eyes open, appreciate the beauty surrounding you, enjoy creating, stay safe and laugh often! ❤️❤️❤️
Life Before The Third Reich
Hall Display
Jewish Community Center
Tucson, Arizona, USA
Ten million Jews lived in Europe in the late 1930s
It was a continent overtaken by economic depression and racial/religious resentment.
Jews in Europe existed along a religious spectrum from strictly orthodox to highly secular; and along an economic spectrum from the crushing poverty of the vast majority to a small well to do elite of successful entrepreneurs.
- IMG_7007 - Version 2
This joy I've named shall not be tamed...series
_____________
That summer feeling That summer feeling
That summer feeling
When there's things to do not because you gotta
When you run for love not because you oughtta
When you trust your friends with no reason ta nada
This joy I've named shall not be tamed
That summer feeling is gonna haunt you
The rest of your life.
When the cool of the pond makes you drop down on it
When the smell of the lawn makes you flop down on it
When the teenage car gets the cop down on it
That time is here for one more year
That summer feeling's gonna haunt you
The rest of your life.
If you've forgotten what I'm naming
You're gonna long to reclaim it one day
You see that summer feeling is gonna haunt you
The rest of your life.
But if you wait until your older
A sad resentment will smoulder one day
And Then the summer feeling will come haunt you
And that summer feeling will come taunt you
That summer feeling will hurt you
Later in your life.
When the playground that just was all dirt
Comes hauntin
And someone who called you a flirt
Comes tauntin
It's not that these things alone
Were appealin
What I now revealin is a certain feelin
That summer feeling is gonna haunt you
The rest of your life.
When the Oldsmobile has got the top down on it
When the catamaran has got the drop down on it
When the flat of the land has got the crop down on it
What I now proclaim is sortta hard to name
But that summer feeling is gonna haunt you
The rest of your life.
When even fourth grade starts looking good
Which you hated,
And first grade's looking good too,
Overrated,
And you boys long for some little girl
That you dated
Do you long for her of for the way you were,
That summer feeling is gonna haunt you
The rest of your life.
It's gonna haunt you
It's gonna taunt you
(That Summer Feeling, Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers, 1983)
If you google what makes a good marriage, you come up with things you would normally expect - respect, good communication, trust, commitment, compromise, and of course love. Nowhere does it mention how hard you will be tested. How there will be years that you can barely remember and others you wish you could forget. How anger will rise out of resentment, or fear, and overcome any degree of sensibility you might have once had. How you stumble your way through the years only to wake one day, your kids all grown, and there you are- looking at retiring and wonder who this person is you are now stuck with! With 45 years behind us I can honestly say marriage is not the pretty picture that is often painted on that wedding day, but it is worth the effort. I see it all so much clearer now - the love, the pain, the happiness and the tears, and witness often how the past softens into the present, creating a newness to our lives together. We work on kindness the most I think. We do as much of it as we can with kindness, and gratitude.
I wonder if A+T made it?
Hore Abbey (also Hoare Abbey, sometimes known as St.Mary's) is a ruined Cistercian monastery near the Rock of Cashel.
'Hore' is thought to derive from 'iubhair' – yew tree. The former Benedictine abbey at Hore was given to the Cistercians by Archbishop David Mac Cerbaill (in 1270), who later entered the monastery, and was buried there in 1289. He endowed the Abbey generously with land, mills and other benefices previously belonging to the town. A story that is much cited by tour guides is that he evicted the Benedictines after a dream that they were about to kill him. This is unlikely to be true and probably arises from the Archbishop's 'interference' with the commerce of the city of Cashel. His disfavour of the established orders in Cashel certainly caused local resentment. He was resented by some of the townspeople, being considered too much in favour of the Irish by the more Anglicised. This is evident in the objection by the thirty-eight local brewers to the levy of two flagons out of every brewing and in the murder of two monks who were visiting the town. He was by all accounts an exceptionally quarrelsome man, who in his long career clashed with the Dean of Cashel, his fellow bishops and the Dublin administration.
For more hints see the first two pictures in my first comment. For mehr Hinweise siehe die ersten zwei Bilder in meinem ersten Kommentar.
TheraminTrees: "Respecting Beliefs"
Quote: "But a dishonest tactic that spans both young and old, members and non-member, is the consistent attempt to marginalise and silence critics. We need to be able to subject all beliefs to criticism and, as I`ve shown, that need only becomes more obvious the greater the knock-on impact a belief has on other ideas; the greater the power and influence involved; the moe fervently criticism is discouraged - particularly by violent means; and the more a belief has a dehumanising effect, facilitating remorseless abuse. Doesn`t get much plainer. We`re talking about the major world religions. The resentments harboured against me and others like me, who decline to respect religious beliefs, are unfounded. [….} criticising unjustified beliefs is important because they can lead to real problems. [….] it is not my attitude that causes wars. Wars are caused by beliefs like supremacism - the idea that one group is intrinsically superior to all others. Supremacism can be based on many things. Gender. The colour of skin. The scriptures of major world religions like christianity and islam are about as supremacist as it`s possible to be, damning all non-members to eternal torture."
Part of: "Putting on Paper ~ zu Papier bringen" - the making off, work in progress // "Picture Puzzles Bilderrätsel Riddle Rebus Rätsel" // Fronleichnam: es geht um den heiligsten Christus - heiligst = heiliger als heilig - No to some things and people count, most don`t = supremacism // ein Lieblingsbuch des Kriegers: die Bibel ---
heilig heiligst - nicht hinterfragbar, Kritik nicht erlaubt, Immunisierung gegen Kritik - siehe Video und obiges Zitat - "marginalising, silencing", blocken. Führt zu Stillstand -
verhindert Weiterentwicklung, verhindert Ideen - im Gegensatz zu: sich im Dialog den Fragen, dem Hinterfragtwerden durch andere, der Kritik stellen, Fragen beantworten - das ist fruchtbar
Photos 80, 93, 98: 15. Juni 2017 Fronleichnam Feast of Corpus Christi,Welttag gegen die Misshandlung älterer Menschen, Global Wind Day (Heiliger Lothar von Sées, Heiliger Vitus (Veit), Heiliger Bernhard von Aosta) Bearbeitung 16. Juni: Bloomsday zu Ehren von James Joyce (Heiliger Benno von Meißen, Heilige Luitgard von Tongeren, Heiliger Quirinus von Tegernsee) Triptych: 17. Juni: Welttag für die Bekämpfung der Wüstenbildung und der Dürre (Heiliger Ramwold von Regensburg, Heiliger Rainer von Pisa, Fulko) upload 19. Juni (Heiliger Romuald, Heilige Juliana von Falconieri, Heiliger Deodatus von Nevers) Mißgeschick am 13. Juni ( jeden Tag ist Tag irgendeines/irgendeiner sogenannten Heiligen, meistens nicht nur eines einzigen: Seliger Gerhard von Clairveaux Heiliger Ragnebert Heiliger Antonius von Padua) #spiegel #mirror #spiegelung #freflection #wärme #hitze #sommer #summer #hot #red #rot #black #schwarz #blut #blood #blutrot #sanguine #ozean #ocean #sea #meer #blau #blue #violet #rosa #pink #braun #brown #yellow #gelb #orange #beige #white #offwhite #fronleichnam #aberglaube #holy #heiliger #heiligst #papier #paper #textur #texture #pattern #muster #marble #marbled #marmoriert #marmor #abstract #abstrakt #konkret #line #linie #enigma #bilderrätsel #craquelure #crackle #krakelee #kraklé #craquelé #krakelure #aktion #aktionismus #fotoaktion #fotobearbeitung #diary #tagebuch #progress #note #notiz #stillleben #readymade #analogie #inhalt #aussage #message #form #band #farbnuancen
Many accuse me of indifference and passivity when I refuse to go into hiding; they say that I have given up. They say everyone who can, must try to stay out of their clutches, it’s our bounden duty to try. But that argument is specious. For while everyone tries to save himself, vast numbers are nevertheless disappearing. And the funny thing is, I don’t feel I’m in their clutches anyway, whether I stay or am sent away. I find all that talk so cliché-ridden and naive, and can’t go along with it anymore. I don’t feel in anybody’s clutches … They may well succeed in breaking me physically, but no more than that. I may face cruelty and deprivation the likes of which I cannot imagine in even my wildest fantasies. Yet all this is as nothing to the immeasurable expanse of my faith in God and my inner receptiveness. I shall always be able to stand on my own two feet even when they are planted on the hardest soil of the harshest reality. And my acceptance is not indifference or helplessness. I feel deep moral indignation at a regime that treats human beings in such a way. But events have become too overwhelming and too demonic to be stemmed with personal resentment and bitterness. These responses strike me as being utterly childish and unequal to the “fateful” course of events. (ET 2002, 487)
-Etty Hillesum
Unas florecitas para saludar el mundo esta mañana. Una para la gente que quiero, los que están a mi lado y los que ya no están pero todavía tan presentes en mi corazón: les mando todo mi cariño. Una para la gente que no me quiere, que despiertan dolores antiguos en mi, pero que a la vez me dan esta maravillosa ocasión de desarrollar mi compasión y de crecer. Otra para mi, que me la autoregalo :-) Y la última para el mundo, para que cesan la envidia, los rencores, los conflictos y las venganzas. Creo que el mundo se merece mucha compasión para que reine la paz entre los humanos.
Some tiny daisies for starting this new day. One is for the people I love, the ones who are by my side, the ones who have already gone but still so present in my heart: I send all my love to them. One for the people who don't like me, who wake up old wounds in my heart, but at the same time give me such a wonderful occasion to develop compassion and to improve my self. Another one for me, I treat myself :-) And the last one for the world, so that envy, resentment, conflicts and revenges disappear. I think that our world needs a huge amount of compassion so that peace reigns among the humans.
One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all.
One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, doubt, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.
The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence,empathy, generosity, forgiveness, truth, compassion and faith."
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: ;Which wolf wins?"
The old Cherokee simply replied, The one you feed.
France 1918, sometime during the "100 days offensive"
"Over There, Over There Send the word, send the word, Over There That the Yanks are coming, The Yanks are coming, The drums rum tumming everywhere So prepare, Say a Prayer Send the word, Send the word to beware We'll be over, we're coming over. And we won't be back till it's over over there!
Over There, Over There Send the word, send the word, Over There That the Yanks are coming, The Yanks are coming, The drums rum tumming everywhere So prepare, Say a Prayer Send the word, Send the word to beware We'll be over, we're coming over." - WWI propaganda song."
As we approach the 100th anniversary of why the United States became involved in WWI let's take a look back. The United States as a nation from the beginning never got involved in world affairs but during WWI that started to change. The European empires were destroying themselves while across the pond it was no concern. People were divided on the issue as to what sides to take. Much of the population was at the time recent immigrants from Europe who still had resentment for their "old enemies". Jews, Irish, and Germans were more leaning to the central powers, while people of Slavic decent, Italians and "WASPs" were more leaning to the Entente. In 1915 the German U-boats sunk the Lusitania. A ship leaving Ireland that had over 100 American passengers and other civilians. The German U Boat policy was causing outrage in America.
Until 1917 was when it was the last straw. The Germans resumed their U boat policy after taking a break from it. Then we have the Zimmerman telegram. The Zimmerman telegram was a telegram sent to the German ambassador to Mexico. The plan was to get Mexico to declare war on the US if the US were to join WWI. This was soon found out and the public was outraged. Even in border states there were lynch mob attacks on Mexican Americans. President Woodrow Wilson met with congress and war was declared on the German Empire. Pro war propaganda swept the nation as well as anti German sentiment. What many people don't know is German at one point had the potential to be Americas most spoken language. Towns in the Midwest had German language newspapers and other elements of German culture. That was until WWI came to America. While there was support for the war there were many who didn't support it saying it was pointless. Freedom of speech became censored of it involved criticism of the war. Regardless so many more Americans signed up and joined the military, even members of my family.
As soon as the American expeditionary force was sent to France the German army was nearing Paris. The millions of British and French troops were now joined by Americans. With renewed morale the allies started winning victory after victory. The American General John "black jack" Pershing at one point even called for an invasion of Germany when they were to be finally pushed out of France and Belgium.
The United States time in WWI was relatively short however its impact changed the world we live in today.
Hope you enjoyed my build and summary of American involvement in WWI. My entry to the Colossal battle contest Ultimate battle category. www.flickr.com/groups/1989840@N23/discuss/72157670792006270/
Cheers guys
Hunter.
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Tonight however we are at Glynes, the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham, the heir, their eldest son Leslie, and his wife Arabella. Lettice, her fiancée, Sir John Nettleford-Hughes, and his recently widowed sister returned from France, Clemance Pontefract, are visiting the Chetwynd family for Christmas and have stayed on to celebrate New Year’s Eve with them as well before heading off in a few days’ time to Rippon Court, Sir John’s vast ancestral estate in Bedfordshire, where he, Clemance and Lettice all have business.
Old enough to be Lettice’s father, wealthy Sir John was until recently still a bachelor, and according to London society gossip intended to remain so, so that he might continue to enjoy his dalliances with a string of pretty chorus girls of Lettice’s age and younger. After an abrupt ending to her understanding with Selwyn Spencely, son and heir to the title Duke of Walmsford, Lettice in a moment of both weakness and resolve, agreed to the proposal of marriage proffered to her by Sir John. More like a business arrangement than a marriage proposal, Sir John offered Lettice the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of his large fortune, be chatelain of all his estates and continue to have her interior design business, under the conditions that she agree to provide him with an heir, and that he be allowed to discreetly carry on his affairs in spite of their marriage vows. He even suggested that Lettice might be afforded the opportunity to have her own extra marital liaisons if she were discreet about them.
Christmas has been and gone, and with it, Lettice’s elder sister Lalage (known to everyone in the family by the diminutive Lally), her husband Charles and their children and Lettice’s Aunt Eglantine, leaving the house emptier and significantly quieter, especially in the absence of the children. It is New Year’s Eve 1925, and nearly midnight as we find ourselves in the very grand and elegant drawing room of Glynes with its gilt Louis and Palladian style furnishings where Lettice has gathered with her fiancée and future sister-in-law, her father, mother, Leslie, Arabella and the parents of her oldest childhood chum, Gerald Bruton, Lord and Lady Bruton. An eight course New Year’s Eve dinner prepared by the Chetwynd’s cook, Mrs. Casterton, and the Glynes kitchen staff, has been consumed, and the party have repaired to the drawing room to enjoy champagne, wine and for the more daring, cocktails. The gilded chinoiserie rococo galleried table has been moved to in the midst of the sumptuous drawing room by Bramley, the Chetwynd’s beloved butler, and he has covered it in glasses and bottles of alcohol, ice and soda syphons for his master, mistress and guests. A bottle of champagne from the Glynes’ well stocked cellar which has been chilling in a silver coolers is almost empty as the New Year looms.
“Oh, I am sorry to hear you won’t be staying in the county for Twelfth Night* celebrations, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks sadly. “Such a pity! Mrs. Maingot’s Glynes Village Players are really rather excited about their Twelfth Night performance this year.”
“Even though I am a relative newcomer to the district, Lady Gwenyth, having only acquired Fonengil Park last century,” Sir John replies with his nose crumpling in distaste as he gesticulates with his highball glass of hock and seltzer in his right hand. “One thing I do know from my experience of the Glynes Village Players, is that the more excited they are about their performance, the ghastlier it is sure to be!” He pulls an overexaggerated face of mock horror. “I shall be only too glad to be far away from Mrs. Maingot and her amateur dramatics.”
“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth replies with both a sad and startled face in response to Sir John’s harsh remarks. “I rather enjoy their performances each year, Sir John.”
“Well, I’d hardly compare their amateur dramatics to the plays produced in London’s West End, Lady Gwenyth.” Sir John retorts smugly, before sipping from his glass.
“Yes… well,” Lady Gwyneth says with distain as she takes a sip of her own champagne, peering with repugnance over the top of her glass with beady eyes at Sir John in his smart Jermyn Street** tailored set of tails, white dinner vest and bow tie, a large Glynes hot house red rose in full bloom serving as a rather overly garish boutonnière*** in his lapel. “I’ll have to acquiesce to your greater experience in these matters, Sir John. I haven’t been to the capital since the Jersey Lily**** made her debut on the London stage in ‘She Stoops to Conquor’.
“Indeed.” Sir John murmurs as he looks Lady Gwenyth up and down critically, eyeing her elegant, if somewhat old fashioned Edwardian beaded evening gown in pastel pink crêpe de chiné.
“Still, it will be a pity too, that the Glynes villagers will not have the opportunity to wassail***** you and dear Lettice,” Lady Gwenyth goes on, either ignoring Sir John’s rudeness politely, or simply not noticing it. “Especially now that you two are officially engaged.”
“Oh,” Sir John heaves a rather heavy sigh and waves his hand about, as though shooing an irritating insect away. “There were a great many wassails and good wishes to us both from the villagers over the festive period since Lettice and I motored down from London to spend Christmas here at Glynes.”
“Oh that must be rather nice for you and dear Lettice, Sir John.” Lady Gwenyth remarks. “I still remember all the good wishes I received from the villagers when Algernon brought me to Bruton Hall all those years ago as a new bride. It was lovely, and endeared me to them.”
“Endeared you to them? Indeed Lady Gwenyth?”
“Yes. It really was wonderful. As part of local gentry, you really should spend more time down in the village when you are at Fontengil Park, Sir John. You spend far too much time in London.”
“Ahh, but that is where my business requires me, Lady Gwenyth, not enfolded in the soporific bucolic bosom of the Wiltshire countryside.”
“Thinking of the countryside,” Lady Gwenyth remarks, coughing a little awkwardly at Sir John’s lightly veiled implication that she, her family the families of the other landed gentry live sleepy and dull lives. “I was a little surprised that you’re not spending New Year’s Eve with my son at Miss Fordyce’s country retreat. It sounds far more smart and select for an exciting man about London like yourself, than our dull, bucolic parties.” Lady Gwenyth cannot help herself as she adds an acerbic taint to her comment. “Gerald was rather thrilled by Miss Fordyce’s invitation to her private party in Essex, especially after the last one, which he said was frightfully enjoyable. You were there too, as well as Lettice, I believe, Sir John.”
“I was. My sister Clemance and I are very good friends of Sylvia’s.”
“Yes, Lettice told me that. She led me to believe that Mrs. Pontefract and Miss Fordyce went to finishing school together, or something like that.”
“We were hosted by the same German family, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance utters clearly, correcting the Chetwynd’s neighbour politely as she steps up to join the conversation. “So, I’ve known Sylvia since we were fifteen years old.
“Clemmie, Lettice and I all received invitations from Sylvia for tonight’s bash, as it happens, Lady Gwenyth,” Sir John explains. “However, since we will be leaving in a day or two to go to Bedfordshire, and knowing Lettice enjoys the tradition of spending time with her family during Christmas, we erred on the side of coming down here to Glynes, rather than going to Sylvia’s.”
“I think I’m enjoying this party far more than I would have Sylvia’s anyway, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance remarks. “Sylvia has always surrounded herself with all these rather passionate and loud performers and artists. There are bound to be high spirits and hijinks this evening – a spirited scavenger hunt about Belchamp St Paul****** no doubt.”
“Oh indeed.” chuckles Lady Gwenyth.
“No. This is a much more agreeable. I must also say that it was very good of Cosmo and Sadie to put Nettie and I up for Christmas and New Year.” Clemance adds gratefully.
“Yes. It saved me the fuss and bother of having to open up Fontengil Park just for a few days.” Sir John adds.
“Oh,” Lady Gwenyth responds, shuddering as she ignores Sir John’s rather tactless remark and focusses upon Clemance instead. “Cosmo and Sadie are always such gracious hosts at any time of the year, Mrs. Pontefract, especially at Christmas time. I’m sure they were only too delighted to welcome you, Mrs. Pontefract.” She allows herself to give Sir John a momentary hard stare. “However, I was just remarking to Sir John that it is a pity you have to leave before the Twelfth Night festivities.”
“Oh I know. It is a great pity. However, a Royal command is not one my brother can readily ignore, Lady Gwenyth,” Clemance answers. “Or refuse. And since the Prince of Wales has specifically expressed his wish to meet Lettice again as John’s fiancée, I am going simply as chaperone.”
“I am surprised that His Royal Highness would want to leave Sandringham*******,” Lady Gwenyth opines. “I would have thought he would have stayed on the Sandringham Estate with Their Majesties for the duration of the festive season.”
“Somehow, I think Rippon Court offers more entertaining pursuits for His Royal Highness than watching his father play with his postage stamp collection******** or his mother fuss over her Fabergé eggs*********.” Sir John says in a superior fashion.
“Our father was a fine rider, a mad keen steeplechaser********** and a bloodthirsty hunter.” Clemance explains with a shudder. “Mother was too. Between them, they established the Rippon Hunt.”
“Being a keen steeplechaser and foxhunter himself, His Royal Highness has expressed his wish to ride in the Rippon Hunt***********, so however reluctantly, I am taking up my official duties as host of the hunt.”
“Not Master of the Hounds************, Sir John?” Lady Gwyneth queries politely.
“Our parents were the Nettleford-Hughes with hunting in their veins, Lady Gwenyth.” Clemance explains kindly. “They couldn’t understand why Nettie didn’t enjoy, nor have the aptitude for, the outdoor sports they embraced with such gusto.”
“We’re a little more cerebral in our pursuits, rather than Neanderthal*************” Sir John adds. “No, I’m far better placed to entertain His Royal Highness and his coterie after their hunting pursuits in the comfort of Rippon Court, and Lettice as my intended will be offering the winners’ trophies.”
Across the room by the white marble fireplace in which a fire roars, keeping the cold of the Wiltshire winter at bay, the Viscount, Lady Sadie and their eldest son and heir chat together, with Lady Sadie in her usual seat in a gilt Louis Seize armchair, her husband on the high backed gilt salon chair embroidered with delicate petit-point by his mother, and their son standing next to his father, warming his backside as he faces out to the room. Across from Lady Sadie in a matching armchair, Lord Bruton snores deeply.
“Looks like Lord Bruton’s had a bit too much of your firewater**************, Pappa.” Leslie opines, nodding at their neighbour slumped in his seat with his head lolling to his left heavily, his mouth hanging slightly open. “I’d best go wake him.”
Lady Sadie glances up at the dainty ornamental rococo clock on the mantelpiece. “No, no, Leslie.” she fusses. “Let poor Algernon sleep. It’s only a quarter to midnight. Your father or Gwenyth can wake him just before midnight, not that I think he’s care too much if he missed the start to 1926, judging by how tired he looked tonight.”
“Too many unpaid bills keeping him awake at night I’d say.” Leslie remarks.
“Still?” Lady Sadie asks. “I thought all that was behind them now with that last sale of pockets of land to that London man.”
“I think it will take more than that to solve the Bruton’s cash flow problems.” Leslie remarks. “Wouldn’t you agree, Pappa?”
The Viscount doesn’t reply.
“Father?” he asks again.
“Cosmo?” Sadie asks her husband, as she gently reaches out and places a bejewelled hand upon her husband’s left knee.
“Eh? What?” the Viscount blusters.
“You’re miles away, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie says with disappointment, shrinking back into her seat and picking up her nearly empty champagne flute. “You aren’t listening to Leslie or I at all, are you?” She pouts petulantly as she lifts the glass to her lips. “You could at last pretend to be listening to me.”
“Just listen to him, that superior sounding old lecher.” the Viscount seethes, seemingly unaware of his wife’s statement as he nods towards Sir John who stands in his cluster with Lady Gwyneth and Clemance near Lady Sadie’s Eighteenth Century painted drawers, his back turned to the Viscount.
“Cosmo!” Lady Sadie hisses. “Quiet! He’ll hear you.” She looks aghast at her husband. “Like him or not, he’s our guest.”
“He won’t hear me,” mutters the Viscount in a comfortably assured reply. “Not over the sound of his own deafening pomposity.”
Leslie and Lady Sadie exchange knowing glances over the top of the Viscount, Lady Sadie cocking an eyebrow and Leslie rolling his eyes, both silently acknowledging that the Viscount is the pot calling the kettle black***************.
“Oh, His Royal Highness is a fine hunter and steeplechaser,” the Viscount mimics Sir John’s statement in a mewling voice. “As if we didn’t all know it’s more about like being drawn to like, with our wastrel future King seeking a sympathetic audience and place to sleep with his mistress, that damnable trollop Freda Dudley Ward****************, rather than doing his duty and staying at Sandringham with his family.”
“Ahh, the worst kept secret in England*****************.” Leslie ventures.
“The poor King and Queen.” Lady Sadie opines with a sigh. “I pity them.”
“I pity us!” the Viscount retorts. “Having to tolerate that damn philanderer under our roof, as long as Lettice insists on being churlish and keeping up the pretence that this ill-fated marriage will be anything other than a disaster, the magnitude of which we have never seen the likes of in the Chetwynd family before.”
“Pappa!” Leslie exclaims, looking over to Lettice, who luckily for the Viscount, is involved in an animated conversation with Leslie’s wife Arabella on the sofa nearby.
“Stop being so melodramatic, Cosmo,” Lady Sadie chides. “It doesn’t become you, as head of the household. And I say again, keep your voice down, for goodness’ sake. Sir John may be completely hedonistic and self-absorbed, but our youngest child is not.”
“I’ve a mind to go over there, punch the cad in his snooty nose, and fling him out of the house by the ear.”
“Oh no you won’t, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie disagrees calmly and matter-of-factly, slapping him on his knee this time. “It would be the wrong thing to do, and even in the pique of a fit of rage, you know it. It would be too, too embarrassing to conduct such a scene before a houseful of guests, even if most of them present are family: for Sir John, Leslie, Arabella, me, you,” She lowers her voice and adds sadly. “For your favourite, Lettice.”
“It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to.” the Viscount mumbles under his breath between gritted teeth.
“You aren’t alone in that, Pappa. We’d all like to.” Leslie says, looking down to his father. “But he is Lettice’s fiancée, and it is New Year’s Eve after all.”
“What the devil has that to do with anything, Leslie?” the Viscount barks.
“Well, you know, Pappa, the season of peace, good will to all men and that all that.” Leslie elucidates with animated gesticulations directed towards the Christmas tree, its golden glass baubles, ribbons and tinsel****************** sparkling and glowing in the drawing room light.
“Good will to all men be damned!” the Viscount retorts in a fiery fashion.
“Language, Cosmo.” Lady Sadie scolds her husband.
“I fail to understand how a man as odious, hedonistic and self-obsessed as Sir John, can have such a lovely and selfless sister like Clemance.” Leslie remarks. “She is kind, considerate, generous of her time, and utterly charming.”
“Perhaps she is compensating for her brother’s character flaws,” Lady Sadie suggests. “I determined that I was going to despise her when I met her up in London, but try as I might, I can’t help but like her.”
“Why can’t Lettice see what a vile old lecher Sir John is?” the Viscount ponders in exasperated disbelief. “I mean, she’s not dim, is she? She’s got the brains and the nous to establish her own very successful business, in spite of everyone, including us, suggesting it was folly, and that she’d fail. How can she be so blind? Has she lost the use of her eyes, or worse yet, her senses?”
“I don’t think Lettice has lost either, my dear Cosmo,” Lady Sadie soothes purringly. “And furthermore,” she adds with a satisfied smile. “I do believe the sheen is starting to rub off this quixotic******************* engagement to Sir John.”
Both the Viscount and Leslie turn and look at Lady Sadie, her son smiling knowingly, and her husband gazing at her in disbelief.
“Alright Sadie.” the older man says. “You have my full and uninterrupted attention.” He heaves a sigh. “Go on. What do you know that I don’t?”
“I told you the day she announced her engagement to Sir John to us almost twelve months ago, that we were going to have to play the long game with Lettice.” Lady Sadie explains.
“You did.” the Viscount buts in. “And we have. What of it?”
“Well, it’s finally starting to pay dividends without our intervention in the matter, thus preventing Lettice from being driven further into Sir John’s arms because of our perceived interference and bias against the match. I can see by your response, Leslie darling, that being the perceptive young man you are, like me, you too have noticed a change come over Lettice and her attitudes to Sir John.”
“I have Mamma.” Leslie admits. “A definite cooling”
“What the devil do you mean, Sadie?” the Viscount splutters in exasperation. “What’s all this about Lettice’s attitudes towards that ghastly old lecher? Stop being so damn cryptic, woman!”
“I’m not quite sure when exactly, but it seems that at least since her return from that decorative arts exhibition in Paris, Lettice has taken a cooler attitude towards her fiancée, Cosmo. When they arrived to stay, I asked Lettice whether she and Sir John have settled on a date for the wedding yet, and she fobbed me off with some fanciful story that they haven’t had time to settle on one yet. It’s all nonsense of course.” Lady Sadie scoffs. “A happily engaged couple would have settled on one by now, no matter how busy they were. You mark my words.” She holds up a wagging bejewelled finger. “She’s stalling, and I am quite sure she is reconsidering her engagement. Furthermore,” she adds. “If you think about how she was when their engagement first became public, Lettice hung off Sir John, and his every word. Not a cross word was had between them.” Lady Sadie nods, steeling her jaw as she speaks. “Yet now look at her. She’s sitting with Arabella.”
“Tice hasn’t stood next to him all this evening.” Leslie adds. “Haven’t you noticed, Pappa?”
The Viscount sits up more straightly in his seat as he glances between Sir John and Lettice, who sits on the sofa with Arabella, her back clearly turned to her fiancée. “No,” he says, a brightness lightening his gruff tones, his glower lifting a little. “I can’t say I have.”
“And she’s given him critical, or even openly hostile glances when he’s said things she doesn’t like or agree with since they both motored down from London to stay.” Lady Sadie adds. “It’s not the look a happily engaged woman gives her fiancée, Cosmo.”
“Bella even told me last night before bed that Tice confided in her the other day that she and Sir John had the fiercest argument up in London over the Prince of Wales’ visit and their need to leave here just after New Year. Apparently, she told Sir John he could jolly well go on his own, Royal Highness or not, as she was staying here until after Twelfth Night like usual. It was only because of Clemance’s imploring that she recanted and agreed to go with them to Rippon Court the day after tomorrow.”
“Really?” Sir John asks, whilst Lady Sadie gasps and smiles at their son’s revelation.
“According to Bella, and she’s less of a Sir John despiser than we are, so I can’t imagine her fabricating or gilding such a tale.”
Just at that moment, Arabella scuttles past her husband and in-laws, vacating her seat as she goes to the side of the fireplace and rings the servants’ call bell by turning the metal and porcelain handle discreetly built in under the mantle. “We must call for Bramley!” she exclaims excitedly. “We need fresh champagne. It’s nearly midnight!”
Seeing an ample opportunity to talk to Lettice, Leslie leaves his parents’ side and moves over to talk to her.
“To your health, little sister.” Leslie says, slipping down onto the seat vacated by his wife on the Louis Quinze sofa, raising his champagne flute to Lettice’s.
“To your health, dear Leslie.” Lettice parrots, raising her own glass so that it clinks merrily against his.
Leslie settles back against the soft embroidered gold satin upholstery back of the sofa and appraises Lettice as she sits opposite him, arrayed in a simple sleeveless tube frock of madder coloured satin with a drop waist and an asymmetrical hemline designed for her by Gerald. The colours warms her pale complexion and accentuates the golden tones of her marcelled waves******************** Her elbow length white kid evening gloves make for a nice contrast to the bright colour of the frock’s fabric. A diamond bracelet, a gift from Sir John to Lettice, winks and sparkles expensively under the illumination of the Glynes electrified drawing room chandeliers above.
“What?” Lettice asks her brother.
Leslie doesn’t answer straight away, which causes Lettice to blush and glance down to see if she has inadvertently spilt something from New Year’s Eve 1925’s dinner onto her gown, where it has remained unnoticed by her.
“What is it, Leslie?”
“You’re up to something.” he replies matter-of-factly after a moment of deliberation.
Lettice laughs in startled surprise at Leslie’s effrontery. “No I’m not, Leslie!”
“Yes you are, Tice.” Leslie retorts before taking a sip of gin and tonic. “Do you remember when you were six and I was sixteen, and I caught you coming out of the barn on the home farm********************* with that pail********************** of molasses for the cows***********************, which you intended to pour into Lionel’s bed?”
“He deserved a taste of his own medicine, after he deliberately poured water on my mattress, making it look like I’d wet the bed.” Lettice defends herself. Nanny Tess was fit to be tied, and I received such a dressing down and a punishment of no nursery tea for a week.” She scoffs and rolls her blue eyes. “You stopped me doing it.”
“I wouldn’t have stopped you, if you hadn’t been so Janus-faced************************ when I asked you whether you were going to try and reciprocate punishment on Lionel, and you said you wouldn’t. I immediately suspected foul play, so I followed you, and as it turns out, I was right.”
“You stalked me, Leslie.” Lettice takes a sip of her own champagne, the bracelet of gemstones sliding down her raised forearm until it comes to a gentle halt where its circumference and that of her arm match.
“I saved you from your own impetuousness, Tice.”
“Says you.” Lettice laughs. “We’ll never know now. I was so guilty being caught red handed as it were by my own big brother, whom I worshipped and adored, that I did as you told me and suffered my punishment in silence without retribution upon Lionel.”
“He would have done something even worse to you, Tice. You know he would.”
“Perhaps.”
“Lionel’s depths of depravity and evil were evident long before he was seven, Tice my dear.”
“True.” Lettice admits begrudgingly.
“Anyway, you are being Janus-faced now. Mamma noticed it, and so did I.” Leslie remarks. “So, what is going on between you and sleazy old Sir John? You’re saying all the right things, but Mamma and I both sense a shift in you, ever since you came home from Paris.” Leslie looks his sister directly in the eyes. “Is the sheen of your ill-considered engagement to Sir John finally wearing off?”
Lettice laughs again at Leslie’s impudence. “Why don’t you say what you really think, Leslie darling.”
“Is it?” Leslie persists.
“I’m not six any more, Leslie. I don’t need rescuing.” Lettice assures her sibling, reaching out her empty glove clad left hand and patting him on the knee consolingly. “I’m twenty-five, and I can manage this situation myself, and I am, in my own way.”
The concern painted on Leslie’s handsome face give away his misgivings. “I just hope, whatever you are up to, you’re doing the right thing.”
“I appreciate you wanting to come to my aid, Leslie darling, but I don’t need my knight in shining brotherly armour this time.”
Leslie sighs in tired exasperation. “You always were the most independent of all the Chetwynd children, forging your own destiny: not like Lally, who married well as Mamma intended, or me who as the heir apparent has grown up with his future mapped out for him.”
“Lionel, for all his faults, is independent too.” Lettice suggests.
“Yes, but stupid too with all his hedonistic actions to end up having his fate chosen for him against his will, shrouded in scandal, by being banished to British East Africa************************* by Pappa.”
“Please trust me on this, Leslie darling. I know what I’m doing this time.” Lettice promises Leslie. “Whether the outcomes are good, bad or a mixture of both. I’m prepared. I’ll be fine.”
“What are you two talking about over there?” the Viscount calls over to Lettice and Leslie from the drinks table, holding aloft one of two chilled bottles of champagne supplied by Bramley. “Come! It’s almost midnight. Time to toast to 1926.”
“Yes, Pappa.” the siblings say, arising from the sofa and walking over to the table where they join all the other guests and their hosts.
The Viscount hands them both fresh glasses of cool, sparkling French champagne.
The clock on the mantle chimes midnight prettily, in the distance the Glynes Church of England bell rings out across the quiet night and the muffled sound of cheers drift up from the servant’s quarters.
“Happy New Year!” Viscount Wrexham cheers. “Happy nineteen twenty-six!”
“Happy nineteen twenty-six!” everyone echoes as they raise their glasses and clink them together happily.
*Dating back to the fourth century, many Christians have observed the Twelfth Night — the evening before the Epiphany — as the ideal time to take down the Christmas tree and festive decorations. Traditionally, the Twelfth Night marks the end of the Christmas season, but there's reportedly some debate among Christian groups about which date is correct. By custom, the Twelfth Night falls on either January 5 or January 6, depending on whether you count Christmas Day as the first day. The Epiphany, also known as Three Kings' Day, commemorates the visit of the three wise men to baby Jesus in Bethlehem.
**Jermyn Street is a one-way street in the St James's area of the City of Westminster in London. It is to the south of, parallel, and adjacent to Piccadilly. Jermyn Street is known as a street for high end gentlemen's clothing retailers and bespoke tailors in the West End.
***A boutonnière or buttonhole is a floral decoration, typically a single flower or bud, worn on the lapel of a tuxedo or suit jacket. While worn frequently in the past, boutonnières are now usually reserved for special occasions for which formal wear is standard, such as at proms and weddings.
****Emilie Charlotte, Lady de Bathe, known as Lillie Langtry and nicknamed "The Jersey Lily", was a British socialite, stage actress and producer. Born and raised on the island of Jersey, she moved to London in 1876, two years after marrying. Her looks and personality attracted interest, commentary, and invitations from artists and society hostesses, and she was celebrated as a young woman of great beauty and charm. During the aesthetic movement in England, she was painted by aesthete artists. In 1882, she became the poster-girl for Pears soap, and thus the first celebrity to endorse a commercial product. In 1881, Langtry became an actress and made her West End debut in the comedy She Stoops to Conquer, causing a sensation in London by becoming the first socialite to appear on stage. One of the most glamorous British women of her era, Langtry was the subject of widespread public and media interest. Her acquaintances in London included Oscar Wilde, who encouraged Langtry to pursue acting. She was known for her relationships with royal figures and noblemen, including Albert Edward, Prince of Wales (the future King Edward VII), Lord Shrewsbury, and Prince Louis of Battenberg.
*****Wassail refers to a hot, mulled holiday punch, traditionally made with spiced cider or ale, and also to a winter solstice custom of visiting orchards to bless the trees for a good harvest. The word "wassail" comes from an Old Norse phrase meaning "be in good health" and is a salute to good health.
******Belchamp St Paul is a village and civil parish in the Braintree district of Essex, England. The village is five miles west of Sudbury, Suffolk, and 23 miles northeast of the county town, Chelmsford.
*******The Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, celebrated Christmas 1925 at Sandringham House in Norfolk, which was, and remains, the traditional Royal Family location for the festive season. His father, King George V, was the reigning monarch at the time, and the family gathered at their country estate for the festivities.
********King George V was a very enthusiastic and obsessive stamp collector who amassed a world-class collection. He began collecting stamps as the Duke of York in the late 1800s and continued obsessively throughout his life. He was so passionate about it that he declared, "I wish to have the best collection and not one of the best collections in England". He made high-value purchases to build his collection, including setting a world record at the time by paying £1,450.00 for a Mauritius two pence blue stamp in 1904. He famously acknowledged that he was the "damned fool" who paid such a high price. He had his collection housed in 328 albums, and it was focused on British Empire stamps. His private collection formed the foundation of the Royal Philatelic Collection, which is now considered one of the most valuable stamp collections in the world.
*********Queen Mary collected a wide variety of objects, including Eighteenth Century furniture, lacquerware, gold boxes, and jewellery. She also collected miniatures, enamelwork, and Fabergé eggs, and was particularly interested in restoring and acquiring pieces that had previously been part of the Royal Collection. Her collection was eclectic and also featured items like the famous Queen Mary's Dolls' House and a significant number of photo albums documenting her life and travels.
**********A steeplechase is a long-distance race involving both galloping and jumping over obstacles, primarily fences and water jumps. In horse racing, steeplechases involve horses jumping over various obstacles like fences and ditches.
***********During the 1920s the Prince of Wales, later Edward VIII and Duke of Windsor, was ranked among the most daring horsemen in England. Having forged an impressive reputation in the hunting field for courage, determination and skill, he moved on to steeplechasing furthering the indignation of George V and Queen Mary who urged their son to abandon the dangerous sport. Unheeded Edward broke his collar bone, blacked his eyes and suffered concussion with what seemed to be alarming regularity. The Prince’s addiction to his hazardous hobby even caused the Prime Minister Ramsay Macdonald to request discontinuance. The prince stubbornly refused. Only after the near fatal illness of the King in 1928, did the he finally renounce the sport and order the sale of his entire stud.
************The Master of the Hounds was in charge of the hunt and supervised the field, hounds, and staff. The huntsman, who had bred the hounds and worked with them, would be in charge of the pack during the hunt. Once the group was assembled, the huntsman would lead the pack of hounds and field to where a fox might be hiding.
*************The term "Neanderthal" was first used in 1864 when Irish geologist William King proposed the species name Homo neanderthalensis for the fossils found in Germany's Neander Valley. However, the first known use of "Neanderthal" to describe the fossil itself dates to 1874 in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary.
**************Referring to a strong alcoholic drink like whisky or gin, the origins of the use of the word “firewater” came from two sources: one started with the adulteration of alcohol with tobacco juice, hot peppers or opium, and the other began with the custom of testing the proof of alcohol by throwing it in the fire, if flammable alcohol would be acceptable for purchase.
***************Referring to hypocrisy, highlighting a situation where someone criticises another person for a fault that they themselves share, the idiom originated in the early 1600s from the Spanish novel “Don Quixote”, which was translated into English by Thomas Shelton in 1620.
****************Winifred May Mones, Marquesa de Casa Maury, commonly known by her first married name as Freda Dudley Ward, was an English socialite. She was best known for being a married paramour of Edward, Prince of Wales, who later became Edward VIII. She was twice married and divorced. Her first marriage was on 9 July 1913 to William Dudley Ward, the Liberal MP for Southampton. Her first husband's family surname was Ward, but 'Dudley Ward' became their surname through common usage. They divorced on the ground of adultery in 1931 and were the parents of two daughters. Although married in 1913 to William Dudley Ward, Freda was also in a relationship with Edward, Prince of Wales from 1918, until she was supplanted by American Thelma Furness from 1929 to 1934 before he then took up with Wallis Simpson, whom he eventually married and abdicated for.
*****************Freda Dudley Ward was the Prince of Wales's paramour for many years, with their affair beginning in the early 1920s. Their relationship was not a secret; it was openly acknowledged by their social circles, families, and the public. His parents the King George V and Queen Mary were concerned about the Prince of Wales's affair with Freda Dudley Ward, as it was a public relationship that threatened to cause scandal and damage his reputation, especially given the expectation that he would marry a foreign royal. They disapproved of the affair, viewing it as a public scandal and hoping the situation could be managed and kept out of the papers to protect the monarchy and the future king. It was a source of considerable tension between father and son. The constant disapproval from his father contributed to Edward's already existing resentment and hatred for his royal role and the constraints it placed upon him.
******************One of the most famous Christmas decorations that people love to use at Christmas is tinsel. You might think that using it is an old tradition and that people in Britain have been adorning their houses with tinsel for a very long time. However that is not actually true. Tinsel is in fact believed to be quite a modern tradition. Whilst the idea of tinsel dates back to Germany in 1610 when wealthy people used real strands of silver to adorn their Christmas trees (also a German invention). Silver was very expensive though, so being able to do this was a sign that you were wealthy. Even though silver looked beautiful and sparkly to begin with, it tarnished quite quickly, meaning it would lose its lovely, bright appearance. Therefore it was swapped for other materials like copper and tin. These metals were also cheaper, so it meant that more people could use them. However, when the Great War started in 1914, metals like copper were needed for the war. Because of this, they couldn't be used for Christmas decorations as much, so a substitute was needed. It was swapped for aluminium, but this was a fire hazard, so it was switched for lead, but that turned out to be poisonous.
*******************Taken from the name of the hero in Miguel de Cervantes 1605 novel, “Don Quixote”, to be quixotic means to be extremely idealistic, unrealistic and impractical, typically marked by rash and lofty romanticism.
********************Marcelling is a hair styling technique in which hot curling tongs are used to induce a curl into the hair. Its appearance was similar to that of a finger wave but it is created using a different method. Marcelled hair was a popular style for women's hair in the 1920s, often in conjunction with a bob cut. For those women who had longer hair, it was common to tie the hair at the nape of the neck and pin it above the ear with a stylish hair pin or flower. One famous wearer was American entertainer, Josephine Baker.
*********************A "home farm" is typically a farm that is part of a large country estate and provides food for the main house. In a British context, it was historically the land farmed directly by the landowner or an employed manager, often while the rest of the estate was rented out to tenant farmers.
**********************Although often assumed to be American, the word “pail” is actually an English word that originated in the Middle English period (1150 – 1500) and is used in both American and British English, though it is considered more common in American English today, where it is often synonymous with "bucket". While "bucket" is the more dominant term in British English, "pail" is still understood and can be considered a more old-fashioned or regional variant.
***********************In farming, molasses provides an energy-rich supplement for livestock, helps them to better digest fibre in their feed.
************************Arising in the late Seventeenth Century, referring to the Roman deity of beginnings and endings often depicted with two faces, “Janus-faced” refers to deliberate deceptiveness especially by pretending one set of feelings and acting under the influence of another.
*************************The Colony and Protectorate of Kenya, commonly known as British Kenya or British East Africa, was part of the British Empire in Africa. It was established when the former East Africa Protectorate was transformed into a British Crown colony in 1920. Technically, the "Colony of Kenya" referred to the interior lands, while a 16 km (10 mi) coastal strip, nominally on lease from the Sultan of Zanzibar, was the "Protectorate of Kenya", but the two were controlled as a single administrative unit. The colony came to an end in 1963 when an ethnic Kenyan majority government was elected for the first time and eventually declared independence as the Republic of Kenya.
This festive upper-class scene is not all that it may appear to be, for it is made up entirely of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection.
Fun things to look for in this tableau include:
The champagne glasses are 1:12 artisan miniatures. Made of glass, they have been blown individually by hand by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering and are so fragile and delicate that even I with my dainty fingers have broken the stem of one. They stand on an ornate Eighteenth Century style silver tray made by Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The wine cooler is also made by Warwick Miniatures. The Deutz and Geldermann champagne bottle is also an artisan miniature and made of glass with a miniature copy of a real Deutz and Geldermann label and some real foil wrapped around their necks. It was made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures in Lancashire. The clear glass soda syphon and porcelain ice bucket and tongs was made by M.W. Reutter Porzellanfabrik in Germany, who specialise in making high quality porcelain miniatures. The cranberry glass soda syphon was made by Beautifully Handmade Miniatures. The remaini g bottles of alcohol were made by Little Things Dollhouse Miniatures. The gilt tea table in the foreground of the photo on which they all stand is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
The Chetwynd Christmas tree, beautifully decorated by Lettice, Harold and Arabella with garlands, tinsel, bows golden baubles and topped by a sparking gold star is a 1:12 artisan piece. It was hand made by husband and wife artistic team Margie and Mike Balough who own Serendipity Miniatures in Newcomerstown, Ohio.
The Palladian console table behind the Christmas tree, with its two golden caryatids and marble top, is one of a pair that were commissioned by me from American miniature artisan Peter Cluff. Peter specialises in making authentic and very realistic high quality 1:12 miniatures that reflect his interest in Georgian interior design. His work is highly sought after by miniature collectors worldwide. This pair of tables are one-of-a-kind and very special to me.
The gilt chair to the right of the photo is made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq, but what is particularly special about it is that it has been covered in antique Austrian floral micro petite point by V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, which also makes this a one-of-a-kind piece. The artisan who made this says that as one of her hobbies, she enjoys visiting old National Trust Houses in the hope of getting some inspiration to help her create new and exciting miniatures. She saw some beautiful petit point chairs a few years ago in one of the big houses in Derbyshire and then found exquisitely detailed petit point that was fine enough for 1:12 scale projects.
The elegant ornaments that decorate the surfaces of the Chetwynd’s palatial drawing room very much reflect the Eighteenth Century spirit of the room.
On the console table made by Peter Cluff stands a porcelain pot of yellow and lilac petunias which has been hand made and painted by 1:12 miniature ceramicist Ann Dalton. It is flanked by two mid Victorian (circa 1850) hand painted child’s tea set pieces. The sugar bowl and milk jug have been painted to imitate Sèvres porcelain.
On the bombe chest behind the Louis settee stand a selection of 1950s Limoges miniature tea set pieces which I have had since I was a teenager. Each piece is individually stamped on its base with a green Limoges stamp. In the centre of these pieces stands a sterling silver three prong candelabra made by an unknown artisan. They have actually fashioned a putti (cherub) holding the stem of the candelabra. The candles that came with it are also 1:12 artisan pieces and are actually made of wax.
The sofa, which is part of a three piece Louis XV suite of the settee and two armchairs was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, JBM.
The Hepplewhite chair with the lemon satin upholstery you can just see behind the Christmas tree was made by the high-end miniature furniture maker, Bespaq.
All the paintings around the Glynes drawing room in their gilded frames are 1:12 artisan pieces made by Amber’s Miniatures in the United States and V.H. Miniatures in the United Kingdom, and the wallpaper is an authentic copy of hand-painted Georgian wallpaper of Chinese lanterns from the 1770s.
Hanging onto resentment is letting someone you despise live rent-free in your head. Ann Landers
*happy bokeh wednesday*
This month, 107 years ago, the world went up in flames. After the assassination of the austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand, and a month of confused, flawed diplomacy, errors and down right soap opera style events, The austrian Empire declared war on Serbia, which draw in the Russian Empire, what caused the German Empire to declare war on them. Allied with Russia, France then declared War on Austria and Germany. And at the start of August, German Forces marched into Belgium, protected by the British Empire. And so the Great War started. The War to end all Wars. And everyone was eager to do so. Filled with romantic Ideas of Chivalry and Honor, young men picked up arms and went to the Battlefields. Only to face the reality of industrialized Warfare. For 4 years this conflict raged, spreading into every corner of this world. From the Fields of Europe to the Islands of the pacific, from African Savannas to the coasts of South America, it cost the lives of 9 Millions Soldiers and 13 Millions civilians. When the dust settled in the end of 1918, several crowned Dynasties had fallen, the spanish Flu was tearing through the world, costing another 100 Millions lives, and the world would never be the same. The resentment after the war and the peace treaty of Versailles laid the groundwork for the second World War and the struggle between Democracies, Monarchies and Communists Countries for the next 100 years.
A young Army doctor from Canada with the name of John McCrae buried his friend after the Battle of Ypres (Belgium) in 1915. Meant as a call t arms at the time, the poem he wrote of that Funeral, transformed over the decades as a call for reason and peace. Unfortunately, he didn't survive the War. He died in a field hospital of pneumonia. And with him and Millions of others, a generation was lost. And it feels like we have forgotten all those deaths, the carnage and the danger of speaking of revolution and war these days.
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Resentment. Anger. A prison of ethereal entrapment. These are the forces that give birth to the Onibi. Tormented by its own hunger, it prowls the shadows, beautiful yet grotesque. Like a spirit lost in its curse, it hunts—not for flesh, but for a release from its endless torment. In the darkness, it whispers, waiting for the moment it can feed
{.⋅ ♫ ⋅.}Vibes {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.}
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In light of the recent blazing heat and oppressive humidity here in Atlanta, I thought it was appropriate to share a cropped version of my favorite winter-time shot from along the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. This snowy vista was taken on the third day of a particularly challenging 55 mile loop starting at Fontana Dam, heading along the Lakeshore Trail, and finally up to the AT via Hazel Creek. The previous night was bitterly cold, especially after a strenuous hike up the mountain and numerous frigid creek crossings (all of which were usually inches too deep for boots, of course).
Hauling camera gear along such demanding terrain is a risk – not only to the camera, but to the experience. It’s exceedingly easy to fall victim to the resentment that if you’re not witnessing the most spectacular sight ever seen, then you’re not witnessing anything spectacular. The lesser irony is that everything in the park’s wilderness is spectacular, at any time of the day, and in any season. Every cascade in every un-photogenic stream or creek, every mountain vista, every trail meandering through the dense woods. The greater irony is that days are spent searching for a single permanent image, a single fraction of a second, while the thousands of seconds in between are lost in the scramble to capture it. By no means am I saying that landscape photography is a selfish endeavor; this is just a reminder to myself that enjoyment of the outdoors leads to great pictures, rather than great pictures leading to an enjoyment of the outdoors. If you only search for the best sunsets, you’ll eventually believe that anything other is a waste of time or a disappointment. There’s not much happiness to be found in a hobby if it often leads to disappointment.
Anyway, I bring this issue up with this picture because I was disappointed that the shelter on the AT didn’t have a good view of the sunrise. I left the shelter before dawn, and through serendipity there was a slight thinning of the trees, a nice sunrise, and snow. It’s not the typical rolling Blue Ridge Mountains sunrise, but I like the way it turned out. Sometimes you just have to forget about your expectations and keep hiking.
Tthe Theater Of the Resentments
HDR 9 scatti
Fotocamera: Nikon D750
Aperture: f/11
Shutter Speed: 4 s
Lente: 14 mm
ISO: 200
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
Flash: Off, Did not fire
Lens: Nikkor AF-S FX 14-24mm f/2.8G ED
05-15-23
“When чou hold resentment toɯαrd αnother, чou αre bound to thαt person or condıtıon bч αn emotıonαl lınk thαt ıs stronger thαn steel. Forgıveness ıs the onlч ɯαч to dıssolve thαt lınk αnd get free.” ― Kαtherıne Ponder
Christina Aguilera - Fighter
www.youtube.com/results?search_query=fighter
After all you put me through
You'd think I'd despise you
But in the end, I wanna thank you
'Cause you made me that much stronger
Well, I thought I knew you
Thinkin' that you were true
Guess I, I couldn't trust, called your bluff
Time is up 'cause I've had enough
You were there by my side
Always down for the ride
But your joyride just came down in flames
'Cause your greed sold me out in shame, mhm
After all of the stealing and cheating
You probably think that I hold resentment for you
But uh-uh, oh no, you're wrong
'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do
I wouldn't know just how capable
I am to pull through
So I wanna say thank you, 'cause it
Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
Makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter
Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh
Oh, yeah, yeah, ohh
Never saw it coming
All of your backstabbing
And just so you could cash in on a good thing
Before I realized your game
I heard you're goin' 'round
Playin' the victim now
But don't even begin feeling I'm the one to blame
'Cause you dug your own grave
After all of the fights and the lies
Guess you're wanting to hold me
But that won't work anymore (no more, a-ha, it's over)
'Cause if it wasn't for all of your torture
I wouldn't know how to be this way now and never back down
So I wanna say thank you, 'cause it
Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter
How could this man I thought I knew
Turn out to be unjust, so cruel?
Could only see the good in you
Pretended not to see the truth
You tried to hide your lies, disguise yourself
Through living in denial
But in the end you'll see, you won't stop me
I am a fighter and I (I'm a fighter)
I ain't gon' stop (I ain't gonna stop)
There is no turning back
I've had enough
Makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder (ooh, yeah)
It makes me that much wiser (ooh, yeah)
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster (yeah)
Made my skin a little bit thicker (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Makes me that much smarter (yeah)
So thanks for making me a fighter (fighter)
You thought I would forget but I, I remembered (ooh-ooh-ooh)
'Cause I remembered (ooh-ooh-ooh)
I remembered
You thought I would forget (ooh-ooh)
I remembered (ooh-ooh)
'Cause I remembered (ooh)
I remembered
Makes me that much stronger (ooh-ooh)
Makes me work a little bit harder (ooh-ooh)
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter
Holding on to anger, resentment and hurt only gives you tense muscles, a headache and a sore jaw from clenching your teeth. Forgiveness gives you back the laughter and the lightness in your life.
Joan Lunden
Texture by Penant
This photo has been accepted into the pool at www.flickr.com/groups/best100only/.
I am sure it is only my imagination, but the story my imagination has written makes them a couple who share a resentment of the other which causes their frowns and makes their sleep a little more restive than yours or mine.
The suppressing of our unconscious leads to more complicated lives. The less attention we pay to it, the more it grows. “The more civilized, the more unconscious and complicated a man is, the less he is able to follow his instincts. His complicated living conditions and the influence of his environment are so strong that they drown the quiet voice of nature.” (Aion, p.21)
The suppressed unconscious forces and eventually surface. “The will can control them only in part. It may be able to suppress them, but it cannot alter their nature, and what is suppressed comes up again in another place in altered form, but this time loaded with a resentment that makes the otherwise harmless natural impulse our enemy.” (Aion, p.27)
-Carl Jung
After all of the stealing and cheating you probably think that
I hold resentment for you
But uh uh, oh no, you're wrong
'Cause if it wasn't for all that you tried to do, I wouldn't know
Just how capable I am to pull through
So I want to say thank you
'Cause it makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
It makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter ;)
Life Before The Third Reich
Hall Display
Jewish Community Center
Tucson, Arizona, USA
Ten million Jews lived in Europe in the late 1930s
It was a continent overtaken by economic depression and racial/religious resentment.
Jews in Europe existed along a religious spectrum from strictly orthodox to highly secular; and along an economic spectrum from the crushing poverty of the vast majority to a small well to do elite of successful entrepreneurs.
- IMG_7006 - Version 2
Symbolic representations of what's being stripped away from me. The past six weeks has been a whirlwind of fighting, anger, disappointment, resentment and circular arguments, situations that go round and round...feelings of helplessness, hopelessness and failure...a stubborn inability to just let go because no matter what is going on, I can't escape the intense love for the other, even as dreams shatter and worlds crumble beneath my feet. Crying uncontrollably every chance I get to be by myself, wondering how we could fail so miserably and praying that this is all just a test and we'll come out stronger, closer and more in love...but today...today, I stopped praying, stopped wishing, stopped wanting, started accepting.
But you've seen me bare
You've seen me covered up
Maybe I'm not scared
Of what you're thinking of.
Dance holds a lot of weight for me. Dance is supposed to be my stress reliever, my outlet, where I can be myself, plus I’ve been doing it my whole life lol. But somewhere in the middle of all the life lessons that were being thrown my way, dance became a place of anger, embarrassment, sadness, pain and I’m gunna say resentment? So I do dance photography and I dance in heels and I take hip hop classes instead of what I really want to do which is to leap and flip and fall around to a beautiful song like I used to. I’ll get there, everyday a little more. Takes time, Maby just as much time to heal as the time you were broken
Photography by Amanda Villas
another reason why I love my neighbourhood: the gardens and stone and light...
O quam te memorem virgo
Stand on the highest pavement of the stair—
Lean on a garden urn—
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair—
Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise—
Fling them to the ground and turn
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.
[from "La Figlia Che Piange" by T. S. Eliot]