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Known today as Jebel al-Qal’a, or the Citadel, the ancient acropolis covers about 40 acres and is L-shaped. The hill is divided into three terraces and was surrounded by deep wadis on all sides but the north. In times of weakness, the Ammonites could find seclusion and protection here. The Jabbok River starts in a strong spring at the citadel of Rabbath Ammon. This spring likely gave the city its name, the “city of waters” (2 Sam 12:27, KJV).
“Highly sensitive people are too often perceived as weaklings or damaged goods. To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, it is the trademark of the truly alive and compassionate. It is not the empath who is broken, it is society that has become dysfunctional and emotionally disabled. There is no shame in expressing your authentic feelings. Those who are at times described as being a 'hot mess' or having 'too many issues' are the very fabric of what keeps the dream alive for a more caring, humane world. Never be ashamed to let your tears shine a light in this world.”
― Anthon St. Maarten
This quote struck an never for me yesterday, so perhaps it will for you today. HFF everyone.
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Wow, wow, wow. Finale already? This competition has gone by so fast and I've enjoyed it for the most part. I'm a bit disappointed that it didn't last longer.
So for one of our 4 themes we were assigned weaknesses and mine was a blindfold. I honestly think i'm at a disadvantage because one of the main parts of modeling is the eyes, and without them i think things tend to get boring. I wanted to show a more natural soft side of xoila since she's mostly been edgy :)
I'll let the photo speak for itself :)
Labyrinth - The Raven's Weakness (Amalie and Ciaran)
...Well, I'm still imagining a dark lit place
Or your place or my place
Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you
I wanna make you move because you're standin' still
If your body matches what your eyes can do
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you
Well, I'm not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you
I wanna make you move because you're standin' still
If your body matches what your eyes can do
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you..
Finger Eleven - Paralyzer (Acoustic)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=927nsHQcWzA
~
Once upon a time Vin and I had started a roleplay world inspired by Jim Henson's Labyrinth; in particular what happened AFTERWARDS. We've decided to create the characters that inhabited this world of the Underground and its King/Queendoms, and bring them to life. It all started with Jareth and Sarah's children and their epic love stories...and it has epically continued on and on through the generations.
What this world means to Vin and me...it is more than words can say. We put our souls into this world and what it represents. But it is our pleasure and excitement to be able to bring them to life.
The ones who kickstarted our whole story was Amalie (the eldest child of Jareth and Sarah who become the first Pure One) and Ciaran (a disgraced Raven prince who was the first to be known as: The Raven).
Upon first meeting, Ciaran did everything in his power (using rather cruel tactics) to scare away and send home the young woman who had come to his realm. He saw her as an enemy; someone who could and would undo everything he'd worked so hard for...
However Amalie was able to see past the mask and see Ciaran for who he really was: a misunderstood, broken man. She helped him regain his 'humanity' and therefore in him gained not only her greatest protector...but the love of her life.
Here in this scene, we're going behind closed doors. Heh, Amalie has always been Ciaran's greatest weakness and as he's told her numerous times, "You are always such a tease." After all one of her favorite things to do was tease and turn her husband on to see how quickly he would lose himself (especially since she appeared so sweet and innocent in public most of the time).
~
I have Vin to thank for setting up these poses and scene! Much rawrness to be had!
The beginning of an arch formation - let's come back in 10,000 years and see what has developed. You can get a sense of the size from the small house lower left.
Most natural arches are formed from narrow fins and sea stacks composed of sandstone or limestone with steep, often vertical, cliff faces. The formations become narrower due to erosion over geologic time scales.
The softer rock stratum erodes away creating rock shelters, or alcoves, on opposite sides of the formation beneath the relatively harder stratum, or caprock, above it. The alcoves erode further into the formation eventually meeting underneath the harder caprock layer, thus creating an arch.
The erosional processes exploit weaknesses in the softer rock layers making cracks larger and removing material more quickly than the caprock; however, the caprock itself continues to erode after an arch has formed, which will ultimately lead to collapse.
To feel intensely is not a symptom of weakness, it is the trademark of the truly alive and compassionate. It is not the empath who is broken, it is society that has become dysfunctional and emotionally disabled. There is no shame in expressing your authentic feelings. Those who are at times described as being a 'hot mess' or having 'too many issues' are the very fabric of what keeps the dream alive for a more caring, humane world. Never be ashamed to let your tears shine a light in this world.”
― Anthon St. Maarten
You are my weakness, you are my strength
Nothing I have in the world makes better sense
Cause I´m the fish and you´re the sea
When we´re together or when we´re apart
There´s never a space in between the beat of our hearts
Cause I´m the apple and you´re the tree
The weakness of ourselves and of our reason makes us see flaws in beauties by making us consider everything piece by piece.
Johann G. Hamann
Robert Curthose was the eldest son of William the Conqueror, the first Norman king of England, and Matilda of Flanders, his nickname, Curthose, derives from the Norman French 'Courtheuse', was apparently acquired when his father teased him as a child for having short legs.
Robert's birthdate is generally given as 1054, but may have occured in 1051. In his youth he was reported to be courageous and skillful in military exercises. He was, however, also prone to a laziness and weakness of character, which discontented nobles and the King of France exploited to stir discord with his father William. Robert was unsatisfied with the share of power allotted to him and was often at odds with his father and his younger brothers, William and Henry.
In 1134, Robert died at Cardiff Castle in his early eighties. He was buried in the abbey church of St. Peter in Gloucester. His effigy carved in bog oak, however, lies on a mortuary chest decorated with the attributed arms of the Nine Worthies. The effigy dates from about 100 years after his death and the mortuary chest much later. The church subsequently has become Gloucester Cathedral. For interesting information about the intervening years please visit here: www.englishmonarchs.co.uk/normans_7.html
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This is pretty similar to this photo in my stream.
Vyou | Formspring | Tumblr | Facebook Page |
Strength or weakness, I'm not sure. Nonetheless, when your conscience starts harassing you for some action, it is hard to disobey. If you do so, there is no use trying to convince yourself that such or such task is pointless: it will come back, again and again, until you proceed. When this arrives, you're not that much in control anymore: your conscience is. Are you still yourself? Is it just a part of your mind, or is it another will, living there in your head? I'm not sure. But that question was worth an image!
Technically, I have seen similar creations by several artists. This is my attempt at it, using only my own photos, instead of a 3D software, or pencils. I had to attach a hook to my upper lip, to emulate the face deformation (which I erased in post, obviously), but it worked as expected. Thanks for watching. Hope you like it!
Nacemos llorando, para coger aire y seguir adelante..
.We are born crying, to catch air and move on ...
“A true friend knows your weaknesses but shows you your strengths; feels your fears but fortifies your faith; sees your anxieties but frees your spirit; recognizes your disabilities but emphasizes your possibilities.”
― William Arthur Ward
The original seemed to be well liked by many, so I wanted to try & process the colors differently,(used picnik).
View On Black large!
I have weakness in my eye vision (both physical and photographic), For me it is difficult to see the scene in ultra-wide angle perspective.
Photographers need to organize the space within the frame. When you have wide angle lens, you need to move a lot in order to find a different view and also you need to get really close to your subject.
Sometimes when you shoot architecture and buildings, there is physical limitations that prevent you to get closer to your subject.
I need more practice with my new wide angle zoom 10-24mm,
Happy Sunday!
Fuji X-Pro2
Fuji 10-24mm F4 lens
PROVIA Film Simulation
Man in his weakness and shortsightedness believes he must make choices in this life. He trembles at the risks he takes. We do know fear. But no. Our choice is of no importance. There comes a time when our eyes are opened. And we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only to await it with confidence and receive it with gratitude. Mercy imposes no conditions.
An lo! Everything we have chosen is granted to us. And everything we have rejected has also been granted. Yes, we get back even what we have rejected. For mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bless shall kiss one another.
-General Lowenheilm, Babett's Feast
/****************
“At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin and by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God, which is never at our disposal, from which God disposes of our lives, which is inaccessible to the fantasies of our own mind or the brutalities of our own will. This little point of nothingness and of absolute poverty is the pure glory of God in us. It is so to speak His name written in us, as our poverty, as our indigence, as our dependence, as our sonship. It is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely ... I have no program for this seeing. It is only given. But the gate of heaven is every- where.”
-Thomas Merton, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander
/***********
"Look!" Rafe suddenly exclaimed and pointed fiercely toward the east. I turned toward the east and saw a perfect sliver of a crescent moon, brilliantly poised for its October debut, so delicate and perfectly suspended in the luminous night sky that it almost took my breath away.
"Look again," he said. I did, and then I saw what he was so fixedly pointing to. There behind that delicate sliver of a new moon was the perfect outline of the full moon, completely round and whole.
"What we have to be is what we already are."
You sit with this koan for a while, and suddenly you see the secret, which like all koans is so obvious once you've finally grasped it. Time doesn't flow in a linear direction. Never did, never will. It spirals out, like a nautilus shell, from the worm hole of the point vierge, weaving a tapestry of finitude as the glory of God. We are full at point of origin, and from that fullness flow out synchronously, into time. Like the moon, growing toward what it already is. Meaningful coincidence, not ruthless linear causality, knits our hearts onto the poetry of God's body. And if we can learn to flow in this direction-learning to row a rowboat, facing our origin, and hence effortlessly flowing toward your destination, the journey through time becomes a sacrament of God's own compassionate aliveness.
-Cynthia Bourgeault, Becoming What We are, essay in We are Already One, Thomas Merton's Message of Hope
"le point vierge"
i have a weakness for mother-of-pearl and abalone shell buttons. :-)
this photo was made by reversing a 50mm meyer optic gorlitz domiplan lens to turn it into a macro lens. a very fun technique to play with.
j'ai une faiblesse pour des butons faits du coquillage. :-)
A sea arch is a natural opening eroded out of a cliff face by marine processes. Some arches appear to have developed from surge channels, which are created by wave refraction causing the focussing of wave fronts on the side of a headland (which might be the cause above). More generally, arches develop where waves attack a plane of weakness which cross-cuts a promontory. Caves produced on either side of a promontory may become joined over time to become a tunnel and, finally, an arch.
The supporting roof of the arch is known as the keystone. The architecture of an arch is a reflection of its lithology and structure. Sea arches have been regarded as ephemeral forms tending to survive over periods of just few decades or centuries. The term sea tunnel can be used to describe a hole in the cliff line where the arch itself is considerably longer than the width of the entrance.
The arch seen above is in Port Campbell National Park which is, of course, more famous for the Twelve Apostles. Running very nearby, facilitating tourist access, is the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, Australia.
I think it's safe to say I am partial to historical villages and potential they hold for still life vignettes. I am especially drawn to old bottles. Sherbrooke Village has a wonderful apothecary store full of originally packages bottles, boxes and tins.
I love the fact the bottle the image is named after says:
Chronic Weaknesses and Complaints related to Women!
As some already know, we also have a small weakness for cemeteries. Of course, from a purely photographic point of view and old they have to be. Most of the time we are looking for visually spectacular graves or gravestones. We have visited this grave here several times and so far I have not been able to capture this breathtakingly beautiful and sad figure properly. This time it was at least better than the other times, but I think I'll visit her again soon.
Quite apart from that, it's the grave that has impressed me most so far and hit me the hardest.
It is the tomb of the Eugenie of Littrow, who died at the age of 6 years. The grave is located on the St. Peter cemetery in Salzburg, Austria.
Here more information about the grave: www.sn.at/wiki/Grabmal_der_Eugenie_von_Littrow
And to the cemetery: www.sn.at/wiki/Friedhof_von_St. _Peter
If you´re one day in Salzburg, you have to see her.
“To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.” – Crissi Jami
Great Wednesday everyone!
Pose - by yours truly ;) Trying to get back to making poses (slo..w..ly... lol)
Post
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B(u)Y ME: Provoke 2 Poseset
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as a photographer I think there is nothing i love more (not even LIGHT) than GORGEOUS IN CAMERA BLUR! it's my weakness
They are the unspeakable Love hiding deep inside of our mind ...
They are the image of our beautiful mind ......
They are the sorrows hiding inside of our mind ......
They are the love for humanity ........
(Rohingya Refugee Camp - Cox's Bazar, Bangladesh)
I have a great weakness for the strong contrasts ... but I guess that is obvious ... :))
... thanks a million times of all the support ... !!!
Have a peaceful and fabulous Thursday - be happy - I will ... :D
This word is not one widely used in our culture anymore. It is seen as a position of weakness. We are told to either excuse things or hold grudges. Forgiveness is neither of those things. Forgiveness does not excuse the wrong done as if it never happened. Forgiveness does not hold a grudge against the wrongdoer. Forgiveness came at a cost. In order for our sins to be forgiven, they had to be paid for. There was still a consequence to the action. Our wrong does have consequences. Christ died so that we would be forgiven. He did not die so that we would be excused. Our sin cost Him His own life. Let that sink in for a minute. It cost the innocent Son of God His own life. A price had to be paid. This is where many of us become uncomfortable. We deserved the penalty He bore. We deserved death and the full wrath of God, but instead out of His crazy love for us, He took it upon Himself. For us to forgive someone is not for us to excuse them. The wrong is acknowledged as wrong. Forgiveness is to not hold the wrong against them not to state that they did not do the wrong. Because we are forgiven in Christ (for those who follow Him and believe who He says He is), we are not receiving what we deserved as punishment.
An arch consists of two weaknesses,
which, leaning on each other,
become a strength.
(Leonardo Da Vinci)
Challenge on Flickr - Habitat & B&W
PSP**** Prise SurPrise!! - Bridge
7 Days with Flickr - Thursday: black&white or sepia
(photo by Freya)
Intimacy is never private when power watches.
By the time a week had passed, whispers moved faster than freight.
Not about the Pale Hour anymore. About Marin. About Tamsin.
On the spans, crews traded glances when Marin walked Tamsin’s line. In the casino, dealers measured her with eyes that had never bothered before. Even in the Old Port, where Ravenwood’s reach was more rumor than rule, the word carried: the Pale Hour stray hadn’t just survived—she’d been claimed.
Some called it weakness. Others called it strategy. No one said it too loud.
Vivienne said nothing at all. She didn’t need to. But the captains noticed. The House always notices when someone who should have been ash instead carries fire.
A courier approached Marin in the lounge, all polished words and feigned curiosity.
“Strange, isn’t it? How quickly some find favor.”
A floor lieutenant asked Tamsin, pointed, if she was “training her stray to run ledgers now.”
Even Omalley sent a message through the Crimson Alcove network to the Guild: If Vivienne hasn’t cut her loose, she must be useful. I’ll keep watching.
Marin felt the eyes on her everywhere. Not blades at her back—worse. Weighing. Judging. Waiting.
One night, as they walked the catwalk above the freight lines, Marin finally said it.
“They think I’m the handle they can use to move you.”
Tamsin didn’t slow. “Let them.”
Marin looked at her, startled. Tamsin’s jaw tightened, eyes forward. “They’re not wrong. You are. To me. You can move me. I would do anything for you. Which makes you dangerous. But it also makes you mine.”
She glanced at Marin then, sharp, fierce. “And if anyone in this city wants to test that, they’ll learn what steel does to knives that strike it.”
For a long moment, only the hum of the rails answered. Then Marin’s hand slipped into hers, not hidden this time. Below them, the city kept watching. Above them, the Ravenwood kept silent. And silence, in that House, was the closest thing to a declaration.
The test came sooner than either expected. In the Old Port, always the Old Port—too far from the Ravenwood floor, too close to the fringe union fuckery that never quite burned out.
They were halfway across a scaffolding when the trap closed. Three men stepped from the cargo stacks—faces Marin half-recognized from the shadows of old strikes, the kind of men who never forgot where the chalk once marked. Not loyalists. Opportunists.
“Well,” one drawled, gaze sliding between them, “if it isn’t Ravenwood’s newest pet. Or is she more than that?”
Tamsin shifted, stormcoat falling open just enough to show the arc cutter at her side. “If you’re looking for a fight, you should’ve brought better company.”
The man smirked. “Not looking for a fight. Just curious. How much of your leash does Ravenwood hold these days? Enough to keep your stray alive?”
Every word was bait. Every move a test. Before Tamsin could answer, Marin stepped forward. Voice steady. “If you’re curious, test me. Not her.”
The silence that followed was sharp as broken glass. Then one lunged.
Tamsin’s cutter was half-drawn, but Marin was already moving—ducking, redirecting, slamming his wrist into the rail with a crack that echoed across the scaffolds. Shock carried her through until he was on his knees, blade skittering away.
The others hesitated. Tamsin’s arc of light made the decision for them. The air stank of ozone, and the challengers scattered into the Old Port.
For a moment only the hum of steel filled the silence. Marin’s chest heaved, her palms stung, but she stayed upright.
Tamsin stared at her, unreadable. Then, slowly, she sheathed the cutter. “You just painted a target on your back.”
Marin met her eyes. “Better mine than yours.”
Something fierce flickered there. Tamsin’s hand came up, gripping Marin’s shoulder, pulling her close until their foreheads touched. Not a kiss. But a vow. “You’re mine,” she growled. “And no one touches what’s mine.”
Above them, freight rolled. Below them, whispers were already starting. The challenge hadn’t weakened them. It had announced them.
Word reached Vivienne before dawn. It always did. Six versions of the same story: Marin, the Pale Hour stray, had stood her ground under Tamsin’s eye and walked away breathing.
By the time they stepped back onto the casino floor that night, the House was already watching. Dealers tracked them with the same attention they gave loaded dice. Captains traded murmurs like wagers.
Vivienne sat in the overlook. She didn’t call them up. She didn’t need to. The casino itself carried her silence down the stairs—the lights humming softer, the air shifting. Even Tamsin felt it.
Only when they passed beneath did Vivienne rise. No speech. No decree. Just a step forward, her crimson coat catching the light. Her eyes found Marin first, then Tamsin. Measured them both. Held them in a stillness that weighed heavier than words.
Then Vivienne inclined her head once. Precise. Controlled. Approval.
The casino breathed again. Music resumed. Dice rattled. The House carried on.
But the message was carved in the marrow of everyone present: Marin was no longer a stray. She was Ravenwood. Not because Tamsin had claimed her. Because Vivienne had.
Later, in the quiet of Tamsin’s quarters, Marin whispered, “She saw us.”
Tamsin’s mouth twisted, not quite a smile. “She always did.”
And in that unspoken permission, their bond became more than personal. It became part of the Ravenwood itself.
Tamsin and Marin will be back later this season with their wedding at Club ARGENT. Watch for it!
Visit Sky Port Bury at maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Kasieopeia/219/128/534
The Ash-Born Part 1: Proof of Use
The Ash-Born Part 2: Proof of Silence
The Ash-Born Part 3: Proof of Measure
The Ash-Born Part 4: Proof of Fire
Men are often reluctant to see a doctor for various reasons, ranging from cultural expectations to personal beliefs about masculinity. Many men have been socialised to prioritise toughness and self-reliance, viewing seeking medical help as a sign of weakness. Additionally, fear of receiving bad news or a diagnosis of a serious illness can lead to avoidance of medical appointments.
Moreover, there's a stigma associated with discussing health concerns openly, especially when it comes to sensitive topics like mental health or reproductive issues. These factors combined contribute to the reluctance among men to seek medical care, often resulting in delayed diagnoses and poorer health outcomes.