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Janet will soon retire, but she's up at 3:30am so by dinner time she's fading fast. Wig wants his head bump!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z5oDLSXMtdM
Wake Up
Song by Rage Against Power Machines and Rage Against the Machine
Lyrics
Come on
Come on, although you try to discredit
You'll still never edit
The needle, I'll thread it
Radically poetic
Standing with the fury that they had in '66
And like E-Double, I'm mad
Still knee-deep in the system's shit
Hoover, he was a body remover
I'll give you a dose
But it will never come close
To the rage built up inside of me
Fist in the air, in the land of hypocricy
Movements come and movements go
Leaders speak, movements cease
When their heads are flown
'Cause all these punks got bullets in their heads
Departments of police (what?) the judges (what?) the feds
Networks at work, keeping people calm
You know they went after King
When he spoke out on Vietnam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot
Yeah
Yeah, back in this
With poetry, my mind I flex
Flip like Wilson, vocals never lacking that finesse
Who I got to, who I got to do to wake you up?
To shake you up, to break the structure up
'Cause blood still flows in the gutter
I'm like taking photos
Mad boy kicks open the shutter
Set the groove
Then stick and move like I was Cassius
Rep the stutter step and left a bomb upon the fascists
Yeah, the several federal man
Who pulled schemes on the dream
And put it to an end
You better beware
Of retribution with mind war
20-20 visions and murals with metaphors
Networks at work keeping people calm
You know they murdered X
And tried to blame it on Islam
He turned the power to the have-nots
And then came the shot
What was the price on his head?
What was the price on his head?
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard a shot
I think I heard, I think I heard a shot
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
Wake up
How long? Not long, 'cause what you reap is what you sow
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the info on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
The color version of the photo above is here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
So far there's only been one photo in my gallery that hasn't been taken in my garden ('The Flame Rider', captured in the Maggia Valley: www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/53563448847/in/datepo... ) - which makes the image above the second time I've "strayed from the path" (although not very far, since the photo was taken only approximately 500 meters from my house).
Overall, I'll stick to my "only-garden rule", but every once in a while I'll show you a little bit of the landscape around my village, because I think it will give you a better sense of just how fascinating this region is, and also of its history.
The title I chose for the photo may seem cheesy, and it's certainly not very original, but I couldn't think of another one, because it's an honest reflection of what I felt when I took it: a profound sense of peace - although if you make it to the end of this text you'll realize my relationship with that word is a bit more complicated.
I got up early that day; it was a beautiful spring morning, and there was still a bit of mist in the valley below my village which I hoped would make for a few nice mood shots, so I quickly grabbed my camera and went down there before the rising sun could dissolve the magical layer on the scenery.
Most human activity hadn't started yet, and I was engulfed in the sounds of the forest as I was walking the narrow trail along the horse pasture; it seemed every little creature around me wanted to make its presence known to potential mates (or rivals) in a myriad of sounds and voices and noises (in case you're interested, here's a taste of what I usually wake up to in spring, but you best use headphones: www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfoCTqdAVCE )
Strolling through such an idyllic landscape next to grazing horses and surrounded by birdsong and beautiful trees, I guess it's kind of obvious one would feel the way I described above and choose the title I did, but as I looked at the old stone buildings - the cattle shelter you can see in the foreground and the stable further up ahead on the right - I also realized how fortunate I was.
It's hard to imagine now, because Switzerland is one of the wealthiest countries in the world today, but the men and women who had carried these stones and constructed the walls of these buildings were among the poorest in Europe. The hardships the people in some of the remote and little developed valleys in Ticino endured only a few generations ago are unimaginable to most folks living in my country today.
It wasn't uncommon that people had to sell their own kids as child slaves - the girls had to work in factories or in rice fields, the boys as "living chimney brushes" in northern Italy - just because there wasn't enough food to support the whole family through the harsh Ticino winters.
If you wonder why contemporary Swiss historians speak of "slaves" as opposed to child laborers, it's because that's what many of them actually were: auctioned off for a negotiable prize at the local market, once sold, these kids were not payed and in many cases not even fed by their masters (they had to beg for food in the streets or steal it).
Translated from German Wikipedia: ...The Piazza grande in Locarno, where the Locarno Film Festival is held today, was one of the places where orphans, foundlings and children from poor families were auctioned off. The boys were sold as chimney sweeps, the girls ended up in the textile industry, in tobacco processing in Brissago or in the rice fields of Novara, which was also extremely hard work: the girls had to stand bent over in the water for twelve to fourteen hours in all weathers. The last verse of the Italian folk song 'Amore mio non piangere' reads: “Mamma, papà, non piangere, se sono consumata, è stata la risaia che mi ha rovinata” (Mom, dad, don't cry when I'm used up, it was the rice field that destroyed me.)... de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaminfegerkinder
The conditions for the chimney sweeps - usually boys between the age of 8 and 12 (or younger, because they had to be small enough to be able to crawl into the chimneys) - were so catastrophic that many of them didn't survive; they died of starvation, cold or soot in their lungs - as well as of work-related accidents like breaking their necks when they fell, or suffocatig if they got stuck in inside a chimney. This practice of "child slavery" went on as late as the 1950s (there's a very short article in English on the topic here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spazzacamini and a more in depth account for German speakers in this brief clip: www.youtube.com/watch?v=gda8vZp_zsc ).
Now I don't know if the people who built the old stone houses along my path had to sell any of their kids, but looking at the remnants of their (not so distant) era I felt an immense sense of gratitude that I was born at a time of prosperity - and peace - in my region, my country and my home. Because none of it was my doing: it was simple luck that decided when and where I came into this world.
It also made me think of my own family. Both of my grandparents on my father's side grew up in Ticino (they were both born in 1900), but while they eventually left Switzerland's poorest region to live in its richest, the Kanton of Zurich, my grandfather's parents relocated to northern Italy in the 1920s and unfortunately were still there when WWII broke out.
They lost everything during the war, and it was their youngest daughter - whom I only knew as "Zia" which means "aunt" in Italian - who earned a little money to support herself and my great-grandparents by giving piano lessons to high-ranking Nazi officers and their kids (this was towards the end of the war when German forces had occupied Italy).
I never knew that about her; Zia only very rarely spoke of the war, but one time when I visited her when she was already over a 100 years old (she died at close to 104), I asked her how they had managed to survive, and she told me that she went to the local prefecture nearly every day to teach piano. "And on the way there would be the dangling ones" she said, with a shudder.
I didn't get what she meant, so she explained. Visiting the city center where the high ranking military resided meant she had to walk underneath the executed men and women who were hanging from the lantern posts along the road (these executions - often of civilians - were the Germans' retaliations for attacks by the Italian partisans).
I never forgot her words - nor could I shake the look on her face as she re-lived this memory. And I still can't grasp it; my house in Ticino is only 60 meters from the Italian border, and the idea that there was a brutal war going on three houses down the road from where I live now in Zia's lifetime strikes me as completely surreal.
So, back to my title for the photo above. "Peace". It's such a simple, short word, isn't it? And we use it - or its cousin "peaceful" - quite often when we mean nice and quiet or stress-free. But if I'm honest I don't think I know what it means. My grandaunt Zia did, but I can't know. And I honestly hope I never will.
I'm sorry I led you down such a dark road; I usually intend to make people smile with the anecdotes that go with my photos, but this one demanded a different approach (I guess with this latest image I've strayed from the path in more than one sense, and I hope you'll forgive me).
Ticino today is the region with the second highest average life expectancy in Europe (85.2 years), and "The Human Development Index" of 0.961 in 2021 was one of the highest found anywhere in the world, and northern Italy isn't far behind. But my neighbors, many of whom are now in their 90s, remember well it wasn't always so.
That a region so poor it must have felt like purgatory to many of its inhabitants could turn into something as close to paradise on Earth as I can imagine in a person's lifetime should make us all very hopeful. But, and this is the sad part, it also works the other way 'round. And I believe we'd do well to remember that, too.
To all of you - with my usual tardiness but from the bottom of my heart - a happy, healthy, hopeful 2025 and beyond.
If for a moment we ever forgot that we were in an Islamic country, it wasn’t usually for very long. And a number of things involving the number five were always on hand to remind us what faith most of the locals follow here. A study of the map told me there were five mosques nearby, in which the people lay prostrate and facing in an easterly direction five times a day. And every morning before sunrise at five o’clock, not so long after the last remaining drunks had staggered off to bed and the Nubian Village Resort next door had finally switched off its poolside stereo, the Muezzin at the nearest seat of worship began the first call to prayers of the new day. A curious place where worlds collide; a place where the deeply devout meets the disorderly and dissolute. Mellow, haunting and guttural, his low bass notes would wash across the empty silence, creeping in beneath the front door of our apartment. It was a beautiful and unworldly sound to a westerner who’d never been anywhere like this before, and in each of the first three mornings I was stirred from my sleep by his song.
When the other four calls came each day, the Muezzin would be competing with the holiday resorts in this Babel-like cocktail of sounds. By late morning it was not at all unusual to hear him chanting mournfully in my right ear, while La Macarena drowned the senses from the left. On one occasion I thought he was singing the chorus to Vienna by Ultravox, but I must have been mistaken. It seemed pretty unlikely that he’d have added European smash hits of the eighties to his repertoire. Just occasionally, in that delightfully peaceful period that started around sunset each day when the animations crew left their stations at the active pool and headed off for supper, I might catch the odd strain across the fading glow, but apart from that he was fighting a losing battle from where we were stationed in our resort. It was only at five in the morning that the stage was his alone.
On the third morning I set the first of a series of early alarms. Ok, so I set it incorrectly - I don’t usually have much call for morning alarms these days - but at least our local Muezzin was there on hand to correct my oversight with a wake up call of his own. For a moment I lay awake, listening to the holy man at his devotions, and then I dozed off again. I awoke once more just before quarter past six and leapt out of bed, quietly cursing myself as I did so. A little over fifteen minutes until sunrise. I peered through the curtains at a colourful morning sky. The Muezzin must see every single sunrise Tiran Island and the Gulf of Aqaba has to offer. At least I’d prepared the camera bag in advance. Five minutes later, I was on the path down towards the beach, where I found a vantage point that I would return to for a further three sunrises later in the holiday. A table under a parasol, the ensemble completed with two plastic chairs. And a lot of mosquitoes. I should have worn my jeans. And socks. With no time to spare, and a casual disregard of the fact that I was about to become the breakfast buffet for the local insect population, I planted my dainty little mini tripod on the wall and pulled up in one of the chairs beside it. Easy pickings with more time, but for now it was a race against the clock. None of that languorous blue hour business here - the sun comes up as if it’s been catapulted over the horizon by giants, and it’s not long at all before the textures and patterns in the sky are whitewashed away in a wall of blinding light. I’d surely get it wrong before things would start to make sense.
Actually, this is the very first shot I took in Egypt. Whether it's actually of Egypt is another question though. The first formative exposure of Tiran Island, an appealing lump on the horizon, its nationality a cause for discussion as far as I could tell. I'd read some sources that told me it was under the flag of Saudi Arabia, but the local Egyptians don't see it that way. Later, a fellow traveller lounging within earshot on his poolside sunbed asked the waiter about this. “It's Egyptian,” came the reply. I decided it was best not to get involved. Whichever country it belonged to, it was a fine subject for a sunrise shoot, and thanks to the unknown Muezzin I'd just about managed to get there in time for sunrise. It brings a whole new meaning to a dawn chorus.
I thought it was time to take a break from the relentless Adventure series and I managed to sneak out yesterday morning with the camera.
This is one of my favourite places to sit and watch the world wake up. Although a new sign has appeared on the gate you have to go through
No Access
No Footpath
No dogs
No people
As it doesn't mention photographers hopefully I will be OK:-)
A 5 frame pano of a misty Piton Lake, part of the Croome estate landscaped by Capability Brown
Ava Vanity [Charcoal]
Ava Vanity Seat
Ava Vanity Side Drawers
Ava Vanity Shelf
Ava Vanity Mirror
Ava Vanity Displayed Handbag
Ava Vanity Candle & Book
Ava Vanity Make-Up Tray
Ava Vanity Lipgloss Stand
Ava Vanity Lipstick Display
Ava Vanity Jewellery Stand
Ava Vanity Succulent Plant
Ava Vanity Lamp
Ava Vanity Frame
Ava Vanity Plant
Ava Vanity Light Box
Ava Vanity Make-Up Organizer
Ava Vanity Book Stack
Aries Ram Skull [Gold]
Darling Flower Giftbox
Lissa Wall Panels & Shelf
Gracie Living Room - Fur Rug
Kinky Mannequin - Black & White
Watson Sconce
Birdy. Cabaret - Corset Chair Gacha
Birdy - Boudoir - mannequin 1
Lash Game Pillow Gacha
Wig Stand \\ Blonde Gacha
Arrowhead Plant
Funnel Pot Set
Hustle Print
Prissy Pom Pillow
Boat wake on the Nornalup Inlet, Walpole-Nornalup National Park, Western Australia.
24-70mm F1.8-2.8
70mm; 1/500 sec; f/5.6; ISO 125
While in the backyard shooting Baltimore Orioles, this Ruby-throated male hummingbird suddenly made an appearance. Unfortunately I was not setup for a wing shot that was moving like these little fellows do. Sometimes we simply have to go for it. Wishing all a great weekend.
A fantastic day going up my favourite mountain on the mainland, Liathach. The Eastern top of Stuc a Choire Dhuibh Bhig provides a fantastic panoramic viewpoint. The ridge of Liathach always holds my attention though, as the light plays across it's slopes. This was my first ever summer ascent, and was sooooo hot . Wake up sunshine is by Chicago.
The winds, the sea, and the moving tides are what they are. If there is wonder and beauty and majesty in them, science will discover these qualities... If there is poetry in my book about the sea, it is not because I deliberately put it there, but because no one could write truthfully about the sea and leave out the poetry. Rachel Carson (May 27, 1907 – April 14, 1964)
I want to thank each and everyone in advance who took the time to visit my little space here on Flickr.
Here we get down low by the shaded shoreline to catch the wake wave from the passing boat. As I mentioned in my previous photo the feature here is the texture of the water's surface and the gradation of light. [Must be enlarged.]
A Useful Antidote:
I thought I'd share this short video with you today. I think you'll find it very useful if you take a few minutes to watch. We must always remember that when people talk about finding an individual "style" that we actually do find our OWN style and not try to mimic that of someone else. And as John Kasko says here, do not be intimidated by irrelevant photo critiques. Set yourself a project and carry it through to the end.
Some photo critiques are just pure bullsh**
I have never seen the sun rise so quickly to almost a blinding point before. Within less than a minute sunlight flooded the valley and made it impossible to pull off a clear shot. The bright morning light quickly woke me up from my sleepiness. I am reminded that I need the Light of Christ to flood into my heart like this each morning and wake me up from my spiritual slumber and stir my heart and revive my soul!
This lioness had three small cubs. This was the most rambunctious of the trio.
Taken in Masai Mara, Kenya
Cuando estás dormido y pasa esto, pues te despiertas, ohhh ohhh ohhh !!!
Early in the morning when trapped down the cliffs and happened this, for sure you wake up ...
Better on L.
,-)
I Just Love Getting Up and Seeing A Colorful Sun Rise. Today Didn't Have The Fire Red Start to It, But Any Sun Rise Is Beautiful. Hopefully It Will Stay Sunny All Day.
It's going to be going to be a grey cold cloudy week so something to remind me sunnier days will be here soon. I need to get some more painting done and start to think about planning some prints for my exhibition. I still have more conservation supervision to do , so lots goingon . Wake up sunshine is by Chicago.