View allAll Photos Tagged stutter
...You'll always be my porcelain
I crossed my heart, but I stuttered too
So truth or dare, was I good to you?
Haven't had enough of you all to myself
Still right beside you in sickness and health
For ever after you will be my home
And there's no place like home
Dearly Departed -Marianas Trench
Another photo from another little adventure with my mother. :P
So... About that new Marianas Trench album, I've got to admit, I really do like it. Particularly this song. Honestly, I haven't really listened to them in a few years, so when Astoria came out, it kind of felt like greeting old friends to me? I don't know, it's just a bit of an unusual feeling since they were a very big part of my life a couple years ago. ^^;
I mean Acadia was even named after one of their songs. I'm such a gross nerd, ha ha.
Hope you all are having a good week!
(Honourable Mention in the 2012 International Photography Awards landscape category, as part of my 'Sand, Sea & Silence' set of five photographs)
(Published in Advanced Photographer, Dec 2012)
(Explore #347)
Sometimes these descriptions come easy and sometimes they don't (note: although I now realise this one flowed in seconds, which contradicts some of what I'm about to say) - much the same as the art of photography and all the trials and tribulations that go hand in hand with it. The last few weeks have been frustrating, I've felt in a rut both in terms of what to shoot and how to shoot it. I think it's probably akin to something like writer's block, where I'd imagine a pen will often glide fluidly, before stuttering and pausing in hesitation over a piece of paper before coming to a halt. I won't reiterate my dislike for the summer months where image making is concerned - I've already done that, but suffice to say I've had relatively few occasions recently where an image has 'felt' right as I was taking it. That sense you sometimes have, even before you frame up and meter, survey the viewfinder for distractions and so forth that the shot will be that little bit... special.
I'm looking forward to autumn and winter (although I'd best not whisper that too loudly elsewhere!) and am hoping that that sense might hit me a little more often than of late...
This shot was something of an oddity. It's a simple composition of course - one I've had in mind for this specific sea defence for some time now. A reserve if you will. Being out with my camera yesterday and suffering a particularly bad lack of inspiration, I decided to venture out to this spot again (I've done so two or three times recently) and see what prevailed. The tide was just on the ebb, and I was pleased to notice some promising cloud structure forming. I nearly missed the whole thing - thanks to much cursing as I did battle with a temperamental filter holder that refused to attach itself to my ND110. It's my own fault - I hadn't realised how much sea salt had accumulated in the threads but a clean sorted things out after I'd wasted several minutes determinedly trying to ignore the fact it wasn't going to play ball!
So, once home and I could view the shot properly, I started to feel that sense I mentioned above (you'll know how sometimes it doesn't happen until you see the shot properly) - only a little later than normal. I'm still looking forward to autumn and winter, but perhaps there's hope for the next few months yet...
Doom Patrol Issue Two: Family Reunion
1984
Miami, Florida
“Hello? Lawrence? Lawrence Trainor?”
The Chief says, causing me to spit my rum into my bandages, soaking them. How'd he find my hotel room?
“Ch-Chief?” I stutter, confused as to how Niles found the number to the telephone in my hotel room.
“Yes Lawrence, it's me.” He confirms. “I'm sorry for bothering you, but it's urgent. Cliff disappeared about two weeks ago, a window in his room was broken violently. I have a couple leads, but I thought you may want to know. It's taken me quite a lot of time and effort to find your number.”
“I'm gonna need a one way ticket to Missouri.”
I growl, in my best Clint Eastwood impression.
“No, that won't be necessary. Rita and I will come to you. You see, the tracking chip in Cliffs body just went off on the outskirts of Miami. You won't have to leave your vacation quite yet. We'll bring the private jet, meet us at the airport at four.”
“Hey uh Chief I just wanted to-” He hangs up. I guess he's keeping it professional.
I resume drinking my rum, dancing to the upbeat tune blaring from my stereo.
4:32 PM
I drag myself sluggishly to the front of the airport. I see two blurry figures in front of the double glass doors. They don't look very pleased with me. I check my watch to see the time, I'm a half an hour late. I guess I lost track of time while I was drinking.
“Larry? Are you okay?” A soft and familiar female voice questions.
“Oh, it is you guys!” I scream ecstatically. I limp over to an aging man in a wheelchair, it's Niles.
“Lawrence, have you been drinking?”
He says, with his british grandpa voice.
I place my hand on his shoulder and turn to Rita.
“I'm okay Chief I only had a little. You ready to get the Doom Patrol back together?” I slur, collapsing to the hot pavement.
I awake in the backseat of what I presume is a taxi, sandwiched between Rita and The Chief. They both seem fairly annoyed by my drunk antics, but I'm having the time of my life.
I guess we arrive at our destination, because the cab comes to a screeching halt.
“This is the place, uh, Chang's International Buffet? The fee is gonna be six fifty.” The taxi driver says to the general group.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
Niles says, handing him a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.
“Damn, twenty? Thanks man.”
The driver says, a smile forming on his face.
Rita opens the door on her side, and steps out of the cab. She stretches both of her arms, one opening the trunk and taking out Chief's wheelchair, and the other taking me forcefully by the shoulder and pulling my wasted ass out of the car. She leaves me on the ground, while she wheels The Chief's chair on over to him. She gracefully lifts him up and places him on the chair, and begins wheeling him to the buffet.
I'm too drunk for this shit. I watch them make their way to the door, still lying on the road. I get assaulted with exhaust as the driver speeds away. The door to the restaurant blows open and a short, greasy, Asian man walks outside, wearing a white tank top and sweatpants. He swings his arms open when he sees The Chief.
“Niles! Niles Caulder! It's been years!”
He bellows, an enormous grin on his face.
“Ah, Mr. Chang. How have you been?”
Chief says, receiving a big hug from Mr. Chang.
“Business is good, so I'm great! Come in, come in.” He says, opening the door and gesturing Rita and Chief inside. They follow him inside and I shut my eyes, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. My eyes shoot open as I feel Rita's arm stretch out of the doorway and drag me inside the Buffet.
the lights you held in your hands so casually as though that is where lights go shine still and again over and under, too.
Pau D'arco or Pink Trumpet Tree flowers swim on Starbucks' outdoor tabletops during Albuquerque, New Mexico monsoon shower.
Location: Starbucks, 4601 Wyoming Blvd NE just north of Montgomery Blvd NE, 6:01pm
⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅
Also at this Starbucks:
Me siento y miro.
Me pongo a pensar sobre las causas –conjuntas, suficientes, necesarias, geográficas, económicas, sociales... históricas e histéricas también– y sobre los efectos –los de las noticias y los que no andan ahí, los que no me esperaba y los que ví inevitables con el ceño fruncido– de este fenómeno... sobre sus fases y dolencias, sobre sus interminables interrelaciones.
Me da vértigo.
Síncope...
Y se me lengua la traba...
-Reset-
The dapper Spotted Sandpiper makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America. www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Spotted_Sandpiper/overview#
Fast. Fast is one of the only words to describe how 2013 felt. It's hard to believe that tomorrow begins the New Year. Even though this year was fast, I feel it was one of the best years of my life in the LEGO community.
First off, this is the year I started to make characters from The Walking Dead, which got my YouTube channel and Flickr stream a new audience. Making figures from The Walking Dead was one of the best decisions I made, and I have really loved doing it. I cannot wait until Season 4 returns so I can begin to make more figures!
Along with The Walking Dead, this year I made an attempt at creating the prison, but that didn't turn out great, but check it out on my YouTube channel if you would like.
Even though its a smaller event, the creation of Infinity Squad was big to me. I really liked the idea of making stories based around a squad, and I can't wait to continue with them in 2014. Hopefully I'll get some new Phase 2 armor for them soon so I can actually pose them :)
Also, I began making a lot of Mandalorians this year, which I am very proud of. My Jango Fett, Boba Fett, Pre Vizsla, and Bo-Katan figures are some of my best and stand out in my collection.
One of the biggest events that occurred this year was BrickFair: Virginia. That event was one of the greatest experiences in my life. I met so many fantastic people and had an outstanding time there, it kind of felt like home. It was a wonderful feeling to be surrounded by people who had the same interests as you.
Throughout this year, my figures significantly changed, as did my attitude about creating them. I began to take my time on painting and actually planning out what to do for them rather than just winging it like I had done in the past. I explored new themes and new ways to customize, as well as attempting camouflage which you can see on my upcoming Battlefield 4 figures. I had to step put of my comfort zone on a lot of figures, but all of them turned out just the way I was hoping, thus expanding the zone.
Some of you may remember I had posted a "Steps Toward Profession" photo at the beginning of the year, seen here: www.flickr.com/photos/52286648@N06/8336046355/
I listed several goals, which I had wanted to achieve in a few months, but that didn't happen. However, I am proud to say I did complete all of those goals by the end of the year. I made a more professional looking background, which changed to a banner with YouTube's new layout. I did create a new studio with better lighting and used a better camera for filming. I began to upload more and more, trying to get back into the game. Lastly, I finally verified myself as a Partner, thus allowing me to make custom thumbnails for my videos which I had always wished to do. Throughout this journey, I regained my lost 200 subscribers, along with 1,600 more, giving me a total of 4,800+ subscribers which I am grateful for!
I went farther off these goals to make my channel and photostream more professional. For the channel, I made an introduction, outro, new logo, and planned what to say so I wouldn't stutter as much. For my Flickr stream, I better prepared my showcases with related backgrounds and camera/figure angles, as well as exploring Adobe Photoshop to edit my shots to make them look better.
In the photo above, I put all of the figures I have made this year. I not sure how many, but I was amazed I was able to paint so many of them! You can notice the difference in the quality of the figures by comparing the old figures to the new, which I think really shows how much I believe I've improved. In the comments, tell me which figure(s) is your favorite!
I just want to thank you all for how much support and feedback you have given me. It really contributes to my improvement, and I couldn't have done it without you all!
I am now saying farewell to 2013, and looking forward. 2014 is going to be amazing, and I am super excited to showcase my Battlefield 4 figures! I plan on making Lilly and Tara from The Walking Dead, but other than them, I have little to no idea of what figures I will be making in 2014, but I am certain something will pop up!
Thank you all again for you support and appreciation, it means the world to me! I wish you all a Happy New Year!
-Aaron/LM9 Productions
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots.
"A rich, russet-and-gray bird with bold streaks down its white chest, the Song Sparrow is one of the most familiar North American sparrows. Don’t let the bewildering variety of regional differences this bird shows across North America deter you: it’s one of the first species you should suspect if you see a streaky sparrow in an open, shrubby, or wet area. If it perches on a low shrub, leans back, and sings a stuttering, clattering song, so much the better." Cornell
I love photographing these lovely flowers when they are available in the spring at our garden centers. Admittedly the genus name is a bit of a land mine for mediocre spellers. People so often judge us more for our minor flaws, rather than for our profound statements or brilliant accomplishments. I have a friend with dozens of patents (several marketable). He's a very poor speller, so many people think he's stupid! Another acquaintance is a valedictorian of his high school class. He has a foreign accent and stutters, so he's incorrectly judged as a moron by many.....Fuchsia is a plant genus with 110 species, consisting mostly of shrubs or small trees. As I mentioned previously, one of my favorite flowers to photograph. ❤❤
a new variety of agapanthus in our garden - trying for bokeh - quite a bit of 'faffing'......
I found this on Google: "faffing - late 18th century (originally dialect in the sense ‘blow in puffs’, describing the wind): imitative. The current sense may have been influenced by dialect faffle ‘stammer, stutter’, later ‘flap in the wind’, which came to mean ‘fuss, dither’ at about the same time as faff (late 19th century)"
8. “But can I at least see where this pit is?” The newbie wanted to know so he could certainly avoid this horrid place.
“It’s against my better judgment,” replied the chairman, “but I’ll show you the entrance where the pit is found. It is heavily guarded, so you know the seriousness of what we mean.”
They descend a few flights of stone stairs into the deep basement of the Secret Society Hall. The light becomes dimmer as they approach the entrance. The guard on duty straightens up, holding his sword and shield in readiness to defend the entrance.
“It is I,” the chairman said with an air of authority. “Please lower your weapons.”
The guard dutifully obeyed. Then the chairman pointed into the darkness and told the newbie, “Beyond this entrance and a few steps to the right is the infamous pit. Those who go down that pit seldom return.”
The newbie simply swallowed hard. “You...you...you... mean they ne...ne...never come out?” He stuttered due to the fright instilled in his very being.
“I haven’t seen anyone come out since I have been chairman.”
“How long have have you be...be...been the chairman?”
“About 30 years now.”
“.. that appears to be something but is not really so.”
Sounds like a false front, no?
Fact: At times, I could be shy, have the stutters and act silly when I'm with someone I have feelings for. It's pretty embarrassing.. coz' by the end of the day, I'm all smiles and people go asking... "Emily, why are you smiling to yourself again?!"
It happened. Uncountable times.
From today's many discoveries..
“Well, now you know I don’t like chocolates.” – E.J
Just one soul, yet so many truths to reveal about one self.
I’m simply saying.. it takes time to understand someone.
Minutes, days, years, decades.. yeah.
… but the process of it is the most intriguing.
p/s: This is how the hair colour actually looks like without sunlight. So, yeah, all those previous shots have had sunlight in it. I've never dyed my hair before.. and I want a haircut. :D Yes, it's the oversized shirt that I wore in the previous shot.
Happy Friday!
The crossing was never meant
to be crossed.
It was a diagram; misread as permission.
White lines
do not guide.
They segment.
They declare:
Here, movement must pretend
to be coherent.
But coherence
has already failed.
Something has entered the frame
that does not move
according to sequence.
It does not arrive.
It instantiates.
A structure; not placed,
but unfolded
from within the assumptions
of the scene.
You call it object.
But it behaves like syntax.
A grammar
that rewrites space
without asking
what space was.
Angles multiply
without origin.
Surfaces repeat
without memory.
Edges intersect
not to connect; but to deny continuity.
And around it;
particles.
Fragments.
Markers of an event
that cannot be localized.
They do not orbit.
They hesitate.
Each one suspended
between becoming
and refusal.
Time begins to stutter.
Not slow; but discontinuous.
Moments no longer follow.
They flicker.
They contradict.
They overwrite.
The figure in the distance
continues to walk.
Or seems to.
But walking requires duration.
And duration
is no longer stable.
Every step
is both taken
and revoked.
Presence becomes
a statistical artifact.
A probability
mistaken for certainty.
The crossing dissolves.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
Its function; to connect two sides; is exposed as obsolete.
There are no sides.
There are only
zones of incompatible logic
touching without merging.
The luminous trace
cuts through;
not as trajectory,
but as decision.
A line
that refuses to be followed.
A path
that erases
the possibility
of paths.
You attempt to locate yourself.
But location assumes continuity.
And continuity
has been revoked.
Coordinates collapse
into recursion.
Position becomes
self-reference.
You are not somewhere.
You are caught
in a loop
that generates
the illusion
of “somewhere.”
And at the center;
if such a term
still holds;
the structure persists.
Not as form.
As operation.
It does not exist.
It executes.
It processes the environment
into fragments
that cannot be reassembled.
Not because they are broken;
but because wholeness
has been invalidated.
There is no totality to return to.
Only iterations
of partial existence.
Each one incompatible
with the next.
And yet;
nothing stops.
There is no collapse
in the catastrophic sense.
Only a quiet refusal
of linearity.
A withdrawal
from the obligation
to make sense.
The world continues.
But not as world.
As computation
without output.
As signal
without receiver.
As structure
without necessity.
And within this;
you remain.
Not as observer.
But as residual function.
A trace
that persists
only because
the system has not yet
fully erased
the need
for traces.
Thank you to all who have made suggestions for improvement. I myself knew I had a better version inside of me and I hope this is it. All comments and critique very welcome and please let me know if this is better or worse.
Anthem for Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -- -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
Lesser Redpoll (Acanthis cabaret) breeds only in western Europe; mainly Britain and the Low Countries. Some authorities treat it as a race of Common Redpoll (A. flammae) but BOU continue to treat it as a full species on the official British List. Lesser Redpolls are red-listed because they suffered a breeding population decline of >50% 1981-2010, with a corresponding decline in winter, and a range contraction. The population is thought to be c260,000 breeding pairs, which sounds like a lot, but compared with 1.2 million pairs of Goldfinch, it isn't huge. They have largely disappeared as a breeding bird from lowland south and east England but in Scotland populations appear to have recovered slightly. I still see them regularly in the Pennines, though most of my sightings are flyovers that I identify from their staccato stuttering calls: xeno-canto.org/821425 They have a strong association with birch trees, and to a lesser extent with alders. Most of my close sightings are in winter when they feed on seeds from the catkins, like this individual is doing. They really are tiny as well, weighing in at just 11g that is less than a third of the weight of a House Sparrow. You can see here the distinctive red poll (forehead) and the little black bib. This was an opportunistic grab shot while I was out walking with a friend last week, one of a mixed flock of Redpolls, Siskins and Goldfinches.
Monday, 9 December 2019: temperature is -6C (windchill -10C) at noon, and it was snowing up till about a minute ago. Sunset is at 4:29 pm.
I am adding this very sad email that I received yesterday, just in case there are any local birders/photographers who knew Sue Konopnicki, but have not heard that Sue passed away on 6 December. Thank you, Joan, for sending out these thoughtful words. My condolences to Sue's family and friends.
"Our Birding community is deeply saddened to inform you of the passing of Sue Konopnicki on Friday, December 6th after a courageous battle with cancer. For many years Sue has been an enthusiastic Saturday participant with the Friends of Fish Creek Birding sessions. Her passion for nature and especially birds developed at a young age and continued throughout her life. As a principal with the Calgary Board of Education, and working together with a group of like-minded teachers, she facilitated a nature-focused learning environment in her school. As well, Sue was a board member with Nature Calgary, a volunteer with Nature Conservancy and a long-time bluebird nest-box monitor. Highlights of her various volunteer roles included arranging funding for students to attend nature-focused field trips, co-founder of the Family Birdwatching Course and Youth Birding Camp with Friends of Fish Creek and Nature Calgary and membership with the Calgary Bird Banding Society. Her love for life-long learning, leadership skills and deep appreciation for the outdoors were inspirational. She touched many lives in deep and meaningful ways. Sue will be greatly missed and lovingly remembered by her daughters, sons-in-law, grandchildren and all who walked the pathways with her. She has been a great friend and the Saturday group will miss her immensely. We were privileged to be a part of her life."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today, 9 December 2019, I have just posted five more odds and ends of photos, from way back in my archives, instead of going through photos taken more recently. I'm just not getting time to get out and take any new photos, anyway. I am adding the description that was under another photo taken the same day.
"Yet another overcast, dreary morning here today, 18 November 2016, with a temperature of -3C (windchill -7C). The sun is supposed to come out this afternoon, which would be a really welcome sight.
This photo of a Great Horned Owlet was taken on 6 May 2016, in a local natural area/park. Unfortunately, I had half a dozen errands to run before allowing myself to go out with my camera, so I didn't get there till late, and the light quickly began to fade. No time to look around the area for any other birds on this visit.
This beautiful owlet had been on the ground for a while before I arrived. There were a few people there and more came and went. However, I later heard that the owlet had been able to claw and flap its way up one of the trees and was safely out of reach of most predators. Meanwhile, the other fledgling had been very high up in a different tree, along with Mom. I'm glad I did call in at this location when I did, as this beautiful little owl gave us a few chances for photos when it was up on a log or down on the ground, usually partly hidden by the plants and bushes. I don't know how it ended up on the ground, but obviously it fell from somewhere or misjudged flying distance and missed an intended branch when it finally left the nesting tree. An interesting world for it to explore, though it wasn't very steady on its feet yet : )
Things seem to happen so fast this spring and I missed seeing the two owlets balancing on the rim of the nesting tree, exercising their wings before fledging. Also, I had been so busy that I only went over to see the youngsters a handful of times. Looking on the more important side, this meant one less person intruding on their area, of course, though I have to say that these owls are remarkably tolerant of humans. If a Canada Goose, on the other hand, should get anywhere near the nest or the little ones, Mom or Dad flies in for an immediate attack."
"With its long, earlike tufts, intimidating yellow-eyed stare, and deep hooting voice, the Great Horned Owl is the quintessential owl of storybooks. This powerful predator can take down birds and mammals even larger than itself, but it also dines on daintier fare such as tiny scorpions, mice, and frogs. It’s one of the most common owls in North America, equally at home in deserts, wetlands, forests, grasslands, backyards, cities, and almost any other semi-open habitat between the Arctic and the tropics.
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots." From AllAboutBirds.
Stuttering Barred Frog (Mixophyes balbus), New England region, New South Wales.
A nicely marked but threatened species which once extended from northern NSW to Victoria. However it is rare and possibly extinct south of Sydney and its populations to the north are fragmented and affected by chytrid fungus. The bright blue in the upper iris helps to distinguish it from other barred frogs which occur across its range.
I found this male at night in the leaf litter along the banks of a creek. After a heavy downpour several male frogs emerged from the leaf litter and began calling perched high on granite boulders along the stream.
I’ve never been a fussy eater (apart from porridge, semolina, tapioca and rice pudding, that make me gag) but over the years I’ve come to quite dislike a “Chinese”.
Not that that worried me too much when I took a business trip to Shanghai some years ago. But it helped me form a view that just as the Chinese do so much the opposite to us, so it is that the Communist machine brain washed the peasant population that the delicacies are the chicken feet and wings, whilst reserving the juicy chicken breast, succulent thighs and tasty flesh for the ‘good’ senior Communist party members. I mean have you nibbled on the small callus-like pads on the base of a chicken foot? That’s the part ordinary Chinese will say is so delicious, but reminds me of chewing a fungus-riven old toe-nail.
I sat down for a meal at an authentic restaurant in Shanghai with our Chinese agent partners and whilst they translated the menu, largely let them decide on, and order the food. First course turned out to be some sort of delicately steamed catfish that they called ‘River Trout”. No, it didn’t have soft flavours like Scottish trout but instead reeked of thick and putrid mud. But it turned out to be the best par of the meal. Next up a football sized pot of bubbling soup was put in the centre of the table. I took my lead from the others and used my chop sticks to fish around for the “velly special vegetatables” they said were in it. I did eventually connect with something squishy solid and prised it up out of the pot, a wiggly strip of something, snookered between my two chopsticks. It didn’t look like any sort of “vegetatable” I had ever encountered elsewhere in the world but I was willing tyo give it the benefit of doubt and levered it across into my mouth. Hmmm. Not very legumative in my opinion, it was nothing more than an expensive strip of fat, that explained why it had wiggled as it hung from the chopstick. Well, it wouldn’t do me any harm if I cut down on a few calories so I continued to smile and chat as best I could. Fortunately a new dish was brought to us, another big bright red pot. I’m not sure how my host described it, but again we started fishing about in the pot’s murky depths with our chop sticks. I’m quite dextrous and soon had a big disc of something suspended from my chopsticks above the red liquid in the pot. I enquired in my best “I’m not really bothered what it is nonchalant style” WTF is that? At which my host paused his fishing and looked across at me, clearly searching for the correct English word. It didn’t come out easily, and with a stuttering Bl – bl-bl-bl-blur he eventually got it and blurted out “Bl-Bl-Blood!” Well, I’ve had black pudding at home, but somehow what I was seeing in front of me looked far less appetising. It meant that at the following meal I went vegetarian in a cafeteria type place where you chose plates of ready prepared food from out of clear plastic display cabinets. I’ll never forget the aspects of the meal that reminded me of an English garden: on one plate a blackbird lying on its side, dead, yellow beak and yellow legs, and on the next plate a miniature pyramid of Giza shape made out of fresh bright green hedge trimmings. Ya, see what I mean? Chinese food. It’s all about persuading the peasants that the rubbish parts are the best bits.
I am so thankful that my family never worries about their next meal. It is a blessing I do not take for granted.
Mamiya 645
Fugi Superia
200 ISO
252 / 365
...a girl's best friend.
~Lorelei Lee, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
I've been on a movie binge lately. We saw "King's Speech", "RED", "Die Hard" and just finished "Salt". "King's Speech" so far has been most impressive from the batch of Oscar wannabes. Colin Firth is so damn good of an actor that he reportedly continued stuttering for two months after the movie, in which his character stutters terribly, has been finished.
The rest of them are just straight actions. "RED" is actually surprisingly not bad. Bruce Willis, John Malkovic (damn that guy's great), Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren and a couple of others. the movie has some kick-ass funk tunes in the soundtrack. Being partial to funk I can't miss that.
Bruce Willis in RED prompted us to re-watch "Die Hard", the first one. You know, when the guy actually had hair. The movie is 23 yrs old, still looks good.
The last one is "Salt", which is a womanese for "Bourne". Some new actors, some more Angelina Jolie lips and hips, panties hung over the security camera and, above all, bad, Bad, BAD Russian language from the actors that are not Russian natives. Hell, with a budget like that I could teach Angelina Jolie to speak those four Russian phrases fluently.
Strobist setup:
* Sunpak 5000AF left @1/64 135mm
* Sunpak 5000AF right @1/64 135mm
* white sheet of paper as a diffuser bent over the bracelet
To see how simple it really is, see the strobist setup shot: click HERE
====Cobblepot Subway Station====
"Get away from him."
Flannegan smirks, admiring her makeshift costume. "Hello gorgeous, A for effort, F for execution. Oh boys!" He lets out a whistle, and on cue, rats come pouring through the walls towards her. Kate fires a warning shot, but, realising it's a waste of ammo, sets her sights back on Flannegan, shooting him squarely in the chest. The connection severed, the rats squeek away, back into the sewers where they came from. Flannegan mumbles "Come back, come-" before trailing off into unconsciousness.
Kate rushes to Batman's side, trying to silence his crying, then plunges a needle of adrenaline into his arm, jolting him awake. "Sorry."
Bruce sits up, back to business immediately. He doesn't know who this woman is, but, he also doesn't have the time for introductions. "Where are they-?"
"The guy in the rags? Must've gone before I got here"
"The children, he's got-"
"I know, I know. Just hold still," she says, applying antiseptic cream to his bite marks.
Bruce mutters in protest, before finally asking "Who are you?"
"I don't know yet, trial and error I suppose. But I'm here to help," she replies
"If you really want to help, you can start by ditching that," he responds, now on his feet.
Confused, Kate looks at her holster.
"I don't like guns." he explains, as he handcuffs Flannegan to a pipe.
"That gun just saved your life."
"And it could've just as easily taken his. You're an soldier, aren't you?"
"Was. Sargent Kate Ka-"
"No. I don't need your identity, that's how we end up with-"
"End up with what?" she asks.
Could it be? "Kate *Kane*?"
"Yes, why?"
Bruce smiles weakly to himself. Of course it'd be her. "Nothing," he responds, as he examines the Scarecrow's laboratory... The children, who took the children? He looks at the walls, across them are various formulas, essays and theories all linked to fear. On the table, there lies a shipping manifest Paris, it's cargo? A hundred wild mushrooms. Strange.
He opens a drawer, inside a letter. The recipient's name has been marked out, but it's been written by...
"Hellfern."
"Who's Hellfern?" Kate inquires.
"A Nazi. Figures... A master chemist, run into him before. Whoever this... Scarecrow is, he's learned from the very best..." He moves the letter away, and jolts back. "No."
It's a blueprint of Gotham General's ventilation systems... The kidnappings were only a teaser of what's to come. He pulls a camera from his belt, and hands it to Kate. "Send these to the GCPD. That madman's going to hit the maternity ward. Hundreds of newborns!"
"Wait, where the hell are you going?"
"To see if I can't get there first."
Batmobile's parked outside, must be how she found me. Clumsy... I jump in, and go over the files. "Master Bruce! Thank goodness you're alright. I've been trying to reach you all night!"
"I'm fine, Alfred. Had a run in with our kidnappers. I'm fine, but the ringleader escaped. Goes by Scarecrow. Don't worry, I know where he's going..."
"That's all well and good sir, but your vitals, they're still far too high... Can't you let the police handle this? We wouldn't want you to faaaaaaaail aaaaaaaagain wooooullllld weeeee?"
I pause. "Alfred, what did you say?"
"I said, surely the police can take care of this?"
I'm still not at my best, still hearing things...
"No, this maniac's got some kind of hallucinogen. I've seen it, Alfred, it's able to bring anyone's darkest fears and phobias to life. Anyone's."
I turn the corner.
"Now a scarecrow... He chose a scarecrow for a reason. Alfred, bring me up a list of families living in the rural areas of Gotham, cross referenced with students of Karl Hellfern... Any psychologists who specialise in fear."
Alfred sighs. He knows something's wrong. "One moment, sir. Here we are, one Doctor Crane, Jonathan Crane. Rather troubled upbringing, orphaned at birth, raised by his aunt. She died when he was a teenager- a rather grisly end at that..."
"Go on."
"She was pecked to death, by hundreds of... Crows. They never linked it to him, but later evidence seemed to suggest she beat him on a regular basis... A neighbor of theirs claimed she locked him in their family's aviary, on a nightly basis. She said she could hear the screams almost a mile away."
"So what happened next?"
"Crane left for college a day later, and, upon graduating, took up a role as a professor in psychology at Gotham University up until... One year ago. Reason for dismissal... ah. "Unorthodox and dangerous teaching methods."
"So he was testing his toxins on his own students..."
====Gotham General====
"Who are you, you can't be here!" an orderly yells, as the Scarecrow enters the maternity ward, smiling his Glasgow smile, and stretches out a bony finger. "Earl, stop him-"
"Hush little baby, don't say a word," he cackles, spraying the doctor, Earl with gas. "Momma's going to buy you a mockingbird..."
"Spiders! Spiders everywhere!" he screams, rolling on the ground, trying desperately to scratch them off.
"Arachnophobia. How... Boring," Crane says, disappointed, as he approaches the now cowering orderly. "How about you, my dear," he asks, a vial of toxins in his hand.
"Please," she's begging. "Please don't."
"Oh don't worry, there's nothing to fe-"
A batarang knocks the vial out of Crane's grip, and it falls to the floor.
"Get away from her."
Scarecrow laughs. "You're too late, Batman. My work is done. All that separates the newborns from their nightmares is this detonator."
Alfred's right... The GCPD *can* deal with the gas, but leaves me with Scarecrow. Have to keep stalling. "Don't."
"You know, we never finished our talk. So, tell me, what nightmares keep the Batman awake?"
The gas... I'm still... Keep focused on him, keep focused on-
-----------------
I'm here. Crime Alley. Dirty, damp, dark... My parents' blood runs along the ground, in the centre, is him. The gunman... Their killer.
No. No, it's not. I'm not in the alleyway, I'm in Gotham General.
He has a gun. A revolver. Mother is dead, Father is dead.
No. It's not him, it's the Scarecrow. They're gone, he's gone, I have to move past it. I need to move past it.
"You've failed us, Bruce," my father calls. "You killed us..."
It's just the toxin... Not in the alley, I'm in the hospital... Remember Bruce, it happened, they're gone, now fight it! Remember what you promised them, that's how you honour them, not by surrendering to these... Ghosts.
Remember. Remember. "By the spirits of my parents-"
"Bruce, this is your father!" the ghost screams.
"I will avenge their deaths-"
"Bruce, stop it now! You're too late," Mother echoes.
"by spending the rest of my life-"
"Stop it, I command you, I-"
"warring on all criminals."
-----------
The hospital. I'm in the hospital.
"Now... tell me, Batman, what did you see?" Scarecrow asks again.
So I tell him. "I see... A boy."
"A child-?" he inquires.
"An orphan. His parents, dead."
"Of course... Yes, of course it'd be your childhood... What do you see now? Failure, is that it? The fear of failing, of disappointing them?"
"Yes, I... I see bats, and alleyways, and I see birds."
For a second, Scarecrow falters. "Birds?!"
"An aviary. Filled with them, all of them angry, and hungry, pecking and knawing at this poor little boy... He calls for help, but no one listens... What do you suppose that means, Doctor?"
He's on edge... Push him too hard and he might press the detonator.
"How do you... How could you possibly-?"
"Because I'll tell you what I think-"
"Enough!" he cries.
"I see a sad, broken man, a man who shuts himself off from everyone else, a man burries himself in his work, all to find that final, pressing answer, the question that's followed him all his life... What drove his aunt to beat him?"
"I said enough-!" he bellows. "How... How are you doing this? How are you resisting my toxins!" His finger's on the detonator.
"I'm not."
His lip's trembling. "Impossible. Impossible!" With a click, he presses the detonator and... Nothing. Gordon... Gordon's done it. Realisation dawns on Crane's face, he runs at me, and then, a crunch. He's stepped on the vial, breaking it.
"No," he whispers, as he falls to his knees. Whatever he's seeing... It's too good for him.
"Now," I ask, pulling him up. "Where are the children?"
"T-the mushrooms... I needed the mushrooms for my research..." he stutters.
"The children, Crane, where are they?"
"S-so, s-so I gave him the children..."
"I need a name!"
"The Monk! The m-mad m-monk," he shrieks, as he returns to his nightmares.
Composite of 47, 28 second images, 17 mm @ 4.5, processed using StarStax and StarCircle Academy Advanced Stacker; also LR4. The moon was so bright it created beautiful shadows in the river. Though there are a few stutters in the trails (teensy screw up on my part), I am still pretty pleased with the results.
© 2013 All Rights Reserved. My photographs are available for licensing and fine art prints. If Interested please contact me.
And I'm begging you,
Bring me back to life,
I just can't stand leaving you alone tonight.
It's too late to go,
Already taken me forever just to try, you know.
One for the money, two for the show,
Three to get ready, and four to go.
For the life of me,
I don't know why it took me so long to see.
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-did I?
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-did I?
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stutter - Marianas Trench
Hey people! :D
As you can see I got a new doll today! ^w^
My first Isul and oh my gosh! I'm totally in love with him! ♥♥♥ I did make some changes to him because the fact that you couldn't even tell that he had eyebrows bugged me, so I just customized him a bit (and will customize him more later on too).
His name is Kuran, Oliver, Pendragon and is the youngest child in the Estate family (Jamie, Mathew and their older sister).
He is my musician (his favourite instrument to play is the harp) and mysterious guy, and if you didn't get the hint from the song I chose for this picture, he does indeed have a stammer/stutter/speaking impediment. :3
I'll write up all his information soon, because I've been planning his character for a very long time. (Estrella should know we were both fangirling in our heads XD)
This photo also goes out to Shannon and Apollo! Thanks so much you two! GiGi and I really appreciated all the hard work that you put into making that time machine for all of us! *hugs*
Sorry about the cake (I actually did make some), Angry and my relatives ate it before I could use it for a picture. ^__^"
Hope you all had a fantastic start to the week everyone! :D
Thanks for reading! ^w^
Boy this is old
But I've loved it for about
4 months now
+1 SOOC
I hope everyone had a terrible superbowl night.
Just kidding.
Go Steelers.
Had to pump up the ISO, because of poor light, but there was no doubting the excitement and drama, as Black Five 45407 thundered through our little station on a Liverpool to York Yuletide Special
Explored Dec 14th 2008 #90
The Last Express
Where did those years go, I often sigh
Since the last express cloaked in steam roared by
The smoke and stuttering noise of steam
Evokes a never ending dream
All now gone except a few remain
In preservation their only domain
Lime Street station still there proud
Quieter now, no smoking allowed
The turntable at the top of platform nine
A faded memory of days so fine
Where engines would turn for the journey home
And young boys collecting their numbers roam
The driver and fireman on the footplate await
The signal, the sign, we must not be late
Years of experience a formidable team
Shrouded now in a cloud of steam
The signal changes the whistle blows
The coal in the firebox brightly glows
The graceful movement as she pulls away
A green light showing the right of way
The passengers now in their seats sit back
Awaiting the sound of the clickity clack
They are off on their hols, away from their mates
Away from the boss and the factory gates
The seaside beckons, the excitement grows
To paddle in the sea with their lily white toes
And then suddenly, I realise
I awake from my dream and rub my eyes
I can never go back to those long gone days
Never to return to my youthful ways
When steam locomotives were my only passion
Numbers and names spoken parrot fashion
Youth and expectation were taken as read
Alas, long gone, that era is dead
A Stoddern
That's right, i didnt stutter bitches, the amahhhzing peeps of dcny are treatng us with a freaking wall of dollarbies, go get em!!!, follow the lm!
More wire sculptures by Polly Verity can be found at www.polyscene.com
Work in progress: Wire and Paper Sculpture of a Dodo,
After Tenniel from his illustration for Lewis Carroll's 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'.
Here the Dodo is about to take flight from his paper chrysanthemum.
Lewis Carroll's (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson's) use of the Dodo in his book is a reference to himself, he had a stutter and very frequently pronounced his name "Do-do-dodgson".
Materials:
Silver wire, acid free tissue paper, copper walking stick
Technique:
Small pliers are used to manipulate the fine wire, wire is wrapped around wire at every join. Eventually this process creates a wireframe creature, the wire describing the contours and the outline. Finally, fine paper is applied sized and wet. As it dries it becomes taut like a drum and forms the translucent skin.
The dodo stands on a paper flower tuffet that is created using a ancient Chinese modular money folding technique. Hundreds of the same miniature origami pattern are folded up and these are slotted together to make the paper chrysanthemum. No glue holds the flower together.
photo: CS Stevens
Double-sided glossy business cards arrived yesterday (500 cards)! And they're so smooth (from the glossy finish) I cannot wait to start handing these babies out! :D
Check out some of my samples designs here!
UPDATE: If you would really like one, I'd love to send you some (especially if you'll be sharing with friends/family). Feel free to send me an email with your mailing address and I'll send some your way, free of charge: madelaine.etsy@gmail.com
Yesterday, 23 April 2016, I joined a few friends for a walk at Inglewood Brd Sanctuary. I only took about 10 photos and this is basically the only one that I will be keeping. Posting it just for the record of where I went that day. Such dismal weather - more like winter, especially when my vehicle got a light dusting of sleet/snow on the drive home. I knew the weather would be no good for photos, but I wanted to spend some a bit of time with firends. As well as the leisurely walk, we also went to the Blackfoot Diner for lunch. Always an enjoyable experience.
"A rich, russet-and-gray bird with bold streaks down its white chest, the Song Sparrow is one of the most familiar North American sparrows. Don’t let the bewildering variety of regional differences this bird shows across North America deter you: it’s one of the first species you should suspect if you see a streaky sparrow in an open, shrubby, or wet area. If it perches on a low shrub, leans back, and sings a stuttering, clattering song, so much the better." From AllAboutBirds.
www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Song_Sparrow/id
Today, the weather has been very unpleasant, too, but didn't stop nine of us from going on a day trip SE of Calgary, to the Frank Lake area. Will post a photo from there tomorrow morning with a species list of 56 bird species seen!
Low key studio shots of Hannah playing the flute, using one studio light in home studio on low power. f/11 stutter 1/125, ISO 100, white balance = flash.
M7 105mm Howitzer Motor Carriage, Priest.
My LEGO rendition of the iconic self-propelled artillery from World War II, incorporating an M2A1 gun reverse-engineered from the Brickmania kit.
Read the write-up on The Brothers Brick.
Kobayashi Synth Care & Robot Repair did not announce itself the way corporate clinics did. There were no reassuring pastels, no looping holo-ads promising compliance and wellness. The workshop sat low and unassuming, concrete walls scarred by decades of honest use, light spilling out in careful bands rather than floods. Inside, the air carried the faint, clean scent of coolant.
The space was organized without being sterile. Tools were arranged by hand memory rather than protocol, benches worn smooth where countless repairs had been leaned into with patience and stubborn brilliance. Diagnostic rigs hummed softly, their displays customized, nonstandard, elegant in ways only someone who truly understood systems would bother with. Older machines stood beside newer ones, legacy architectures coexisting with emergent designs, all treated with the same respect.
Vivienne took the space in with a practiced eye, noting the lack of branding theatrics, the way nothing here begged to be trusted. Her gaze flicked once to the modest placard by the door.
“Kobayashi Synth Care & Robot Repair,” she said, faint amusement threading her voice. “You named the shop after yourself?”
Erika Kobayashi glanced up from a bench, one brow lifting slightly.
“No,” she replied. “I named myself after the shop.”
That earned a pause.
Vivienne smiled. Something sharper, more genuine.
“That’s… inconveniently impressive.”
“It keeps expectations honest,” Erika said, and returned to her work.
Eidolon catalogued it all automatically. Then realized she was doing something else, too.
Erika moved through the space with unselfconscious precision, sleeves pushed up, hair pulled back in a way that suggested she valued function over presentation but never mistook that for carelessness. She spoke softly to the machines as she worked, not sentimentally, but as one might speak to a colleague who deserved clarity and honesty.
At some point, the machines no longer required her attention.
When she looked at Eidolon, her gaze lingered. Curious. Interested. Careful.
Eidolon experienced a hesitation spike she could not classify.
Her systems searched for familiar categories and failed to settle. The awareness of Erika’s proximity introduced subtle latency. Eidolon found herself adjusting posture parameters she did not strictly need to adjust, monitoring her own responses instead of the room.
Vivienne noticed, of course. She always did.
Erika didn’t touch Eidolon right away.
That alone unsettled her.
Most technicians began with contact. Ports, panels, calibration points. Hands-first thinking. Erika didn’t. She circled instead, eyes tracking micro-movements, listening to the way Eidolon’s servos whispered when she shifted her weight. She waited until Eidolon became aware of being observed. Then waited a little longer.
“That glitch you mentioned,” Erika said at last, voice calm, precise. “When did it start?”
Vivienne answered, but Eidolon barely registered the words. Erika was standing close enough now that Eidolon could detect her body heat, a soft gradient against the cooler air of the workshop.
Up close, Eidolon registered details she had not prioritized before. The dark fall of Erika’s hair gathered loosely at the nape of her neck. The clear blue of her eyes behind the thin frames of her spectacles. The faint, familiar scent of machine oil threaded with lavender.
It wasn’t intrusive. It didn’t trigger defensive subroutines.
It felt intentional.
Erika nodded, reached for a diagnostic slate, and finally looked Eidolon directly in the face.
Not through her.
Not past her.
At her.
Eidolon’s internal clock stuttered.
Prediction failed for a fraction of a second. Her systems hesitated, not from overload, but from lack of precedent.
Erika smiled. Something smaller. Private. Curious.
“You’re self-correcting before errors propagate,” she murmured. “That’s interesting.”
“I was not programmed for self-correction,” Eidolon said automatically. Then realized she was watching Erika’s mouth when she spoke.
Interesting.
Concerning.
“No,” Erika agreed. “You weren’t.”
She reached out then, slow enough that Eidolon could have stepped back if she wanted to. Her fingers brushed Eidolon’s hand. Light, professional, warm.
Eidolon did not pull away.
Instead, a new process spun up, unrequested and unnamed. A soft internal awareness that had nothing to do with optics or power levels. Her attention narrowed. Her perception oriented. She found herself wanting Erika to remain exactly where she was.
Vivienne cleared her throat from across the room, amusement threading through her concern.
“She’s doing that thing where she forgets to monitor the environment.”
Erika glanced up, then back to Eidolon, the corner of her mouth lifting. Simply pleased.
“That happens sometimes,” Erika said gently. “When systems start prioritizing without being told to.”
Eidolon looked at her.
“Is that… acceptable?”
Erika met her gaze without hesitation.
“I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Something in Eidolon’s internal architecture relaxed.
There was a pause. Full. Eidolon felt it gathering, like breath before speech. This wasn’t a directive. This wasn’t a calculation. It was a choice forming without instruction.
“Erika,” Eidolon said, testing the name.
“Yes?”
“I acquired a garment recently,” Eidolon continued, optics bright but steady. “It is… new. To me.”
Erika’s interest sharpened, warm and unmistakable.
“Is it?”
“Yes.” Eidolon straightened, posture precise but quietly proud. “Would you like to see it?”
Vivienne turned away, pressing her knuckles lightly to her lips, fighting a smile.
Erika didn’t laugh. She didn’t comment. She simply nodded, as if this were the most natural request in the world.
“I’d like that,” she said. “Very much.”
And standing there, in a workshop that repaired bodies but respected minds, Eidolon felt something shift.
Not a rebellion.
Not a declaration.
Just the sense that owned was no longer a word that fully described her.
Max Headroom was a futuristic computer-generated character on a popular British television series back in 1985. He became well known for his jerky techno-stuttering speech, wit, and puns. Now he's just a piece of discarded cardboard.
Washpool National Park, New South Wales.
For use of this photo please contact clancywildlife@gmail.com
Molly: *snorts loudly, clearly stating that he is indeed ‘well aware’*
Diego: *shrugs, signs/says* “That seems to be the consensus, not that it’s doing me a damn big of good where it matters.”
Yuri: “And, pray tell, where does it matter?”
Diego: *turns his head and stares directly into Charley’s eyes with a heart-stuttering intensity*
Charley: *returns his gaze steadily, lips parting, as she struggles to keep her breathing even*
Yuri: “Hmm…*studies the pair, face enigmatic* I shall have to consult with Kumi about this straightaway. Diego, may I take a photo of you with my phone? It will help during our discourse, if we have visual aids.”
Charley: *breaks eye contact with Diego to gawk at Yuri* “Consult about what?”
Yuri: *waves her hand back and forth between Diego and Charley* “This.”
Charley: *steps away from Diego, voice low* “There is no ‘this.’”
Molly: *rolls her eyes exasperatedly, signs* “I need more gummy worms.” *turns on her heel, stalks off*
Diego: “You shouldn’t argue with her, Charley. She clearly has a better grasp on the situation than you do.”
Charley: *grabs her jars of peanut butter from the cart, stiffly* “If you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to pay for these and head back to the apartment. I have to get ready for my date with Dane, my boyfriend.” *pivots smartly, marches off*
Yuri: “She does not seem to be reacting well to your advances, Diego.”
Diego (unconcernedly): “She’s reacting just fine. The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s apathy…and there has never been, nor will there ever be, anything apathetic about Bug’s feelings for me.”
Yuri: “Surely you recognize that you are playing a weighty game here. You stand to lose all.”
Diego: “Far be it from me to correct you, since you don’t strike me as the type to appreciate it, but you’re wrong on both counts.”
Yuri: *watches Charley’s retreat, face thoughtful* “Really? Do enlighten me, then.”
Diego: “Firstly, this is no game. Secondly, I already lost it all when she left the first time. Now…*hands tighten around the handle of the cart, as he follows Charley departure with hungry eyes* I’m trying to win it all back.”
To be continued next Tuesday…
Fashion Credits
***Any doll enhancements (i.e. freckles, piercings, eye color changes, haircuts) were done by me unless otherwise stated.***
Yuri
Skirt: Mattel – BFMC – Pretty in Pleats Barbie
Bodysuit, Belt & Stockings: IT – Monogram – Discreet
Shoes: IT – NuFace – Miracle Child Ayumi
Purse: Randall Craig RTW Accessory Set
Long Necklaces & Ring: IT – NuFace – Miracle Child Ayumi
Choker: Me
Doll is Nu.Fantasy Little Red Riding Hood Yuri transplanted to a NuFace body.
Charley
Jeans: Clear lan
Top: Sekiguchi Momko – Lazy Seventeen
Belt: Cangaway (etsy.com)
Sneakers: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Glasses: Sekiguchi Momoko Accessory
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Morning Dew Giselle transplanted to a Poppy body, re-rooted by the superlative valmaxi(!!!)
Diego
Jeans: Clear lan
Shirt: IT – Fashion Royalty – Homme – Raw Appeal Lukas
Vest: IT – Fashion Royalty – Homme – Fast Track Victor James
Belt: Miema (etsy.com)
Shoes: IT – Poppy Parker – Baby, It’s You Chip
Hat: Mattel – Barbie Collectible – Frank Sinatra: The Recording Years
Necklace: Me
Doll is a Rock Steady Romain, eyes, brows, facial hair, and shading by me.
Soundtrack // Bande-son: GREAT LAKE SWIMMERS ("Uncertian Country"): www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajm4eYcv5oU&t=5s
"Static in the frame, and with a stutter... Not in flight, on the road, on foot... Can’t reach it... UNCERTAIN COUNTRY... Uncertain country..;"
Sur la route menant de Timbaki à Agia Galini, sur le littoral sud du district régional de Réthymnon (Crète).