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A poem I wrote in French. Sometimes it's nice to write in another language because there are things that cannot be fully described in English.
Les Papillons d’Encre
C’est difficile de comprendre
Que tu es seulement du sang, des os,
Une colonne vertébrale.
Tu es un méli-mélo de rein, poumon, et un foie glissant.
Tu es une unification de nerfs, d’artères qui poussent, sans pensée
Avec chaque battement de ton cœur.
Quand je te vois,
Tu es l’esprit qui est dans cette prison de tendon et de muscle,
L’espace négatif
Tu es là, dans les moments qui n’ont pas de corps
Les secondes qui passent, moins appréciées que la chute d’un cil oublié
Quand tu te réveilles le matin,
La lumière de la fenêtre danse sur la joue, puis la nuque, puis le dos
Et je te rajuste une mèche de cheveux.
Plus tard, ces moments ne donnent pas de vraies mémoires
Toutefois, ils me prouvent que les instants les plus fugaces
Sont ceux qui dépassent nos petites morts, les limites d’un corps dépérissant
Et toi,
Le moment le plus doux, le moineau sur la clôture de jardin que je vois
À l’aube, le goût du vent glacial en hiver,
L’odeur d’un roman âgé, qui sent la naphtaline,
Avec des papillons de nuit, pressés entre les feuilles
Et gravés dans le texte.
Alors, pour me souvenir que tu es humain,
Je dois te piquer le pouce et regarder la goutte de pluie
Qui vient,
Rouge.
« She writes so beautifully
The inside of her mind must be a terrible place. »
Je ne peux plus me passer d'Anya. C'est ma thérapie, quand je me sens mal je transfère mes sentiments en elle.
Elle se sentait indésirée. Son corps était une anomalie, rien n'était conforme à la norme chez elle. Elle n'arrivait jamais à dormir la nuit, car une angoisse lui serrait le cœur sans cesse, et celle-ci s'amplifiait au cours de ses rêves. Son esprit se vidait alors de ses pensées, et son corps n'existait alors que pour ressentir les ondes qui se mouvaient autour d'elle, se cognant à elle, essayant de l'expulser de la réalité. Son regard se faisait vide. Elle pensait à celui qui aurait pu la sauver, mais qui avait choisit de la détruire. L'unique personne qui l'avait faite se sentir à sa place dans ce monde. Et qui l'en avait encore plus isolée.
Designed in the late fifties and manufactured between 1960 and 1963, the AR-60 was used in the Vietnam War from 1961 to 1962 and in the Portuguese Colonial War from 1961 to 1974. This weapon was based on the AR-10 and on the FN FAL, it fires the 7.62x51 NATO and it was designed and manufactured in Portugal. This design would be later revisited by KCW in 2013, to be turned into the M6A4 Battle Rifle.
The AR-60 displayed above is one of the few used in Vietnam in 1961, featuring an M203 grenade launcher adapted for this rifle and an american Infrared Telescopic Sight attached to a rail on the upper receiver.
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I just had quite the fun writting this :) I was always checking for the actual dates of stuff so I wouldn't mess up anything, but still, it was worth it, I think :p
This is my first time at building for a contest and I'm a really excited :3
This is a fictional weapon, of course, though I found out that the AR10 was actually used in the Portuguese Colonial War hehe :p
Credits to Woitek for smooth shading and Electrozity for idea for the peace symbol.
I hope you all like this!
B&W ND 3.0_ND 110
Do not use my works without my written permission!!!
''Fotoğraflarımın izin alınmadan kopyalanması ve kullanılması 5846 sayılı Fikir ve Sanat Eserleri Yasasına göre suçtur.!!''
Please don't use my images on websites or any other media without asking for my written permission.
Nelson Mandelabrug is een fiets- en voetgangersbrug uit 1992 van 180 meter lang, die in Zoetermeer het Plein van de Verenigde Naties in de wijk Rokkeveen, ten zuiden van de rijksweg A12, met de Boerhaavelaan in de wijk Driemanspolder ten noorden van de rijksweg verbindt. Hij kruist niet alleen de rijksweg, maar ook twee spoorlijnen en gaat onder het gebouw ‘de poort van Zoetermeer’ door.
He comenzado a redactar un nuevo blog dedicado a la fotografía de viaje, os animo a visitarlo y espero vuestros comentarios. Un abrazo
I started to write a new blog dedicated to travel photography, I encourage you to visit and hope your comments.
J'ai commencé à écrire un nouveau blog dédié à la photographie de voyage, je vous encourage à visiter et nous espérons vos commentaires. Une étreinte
India: La nación con más jóvenes en el mundo
“Hay una diferencia obvia entre la India y China, y es que este último país tiene una política restrictiva con respecto al nacimiento de hijos. En cambio la India, no posee ninguna política del crecimiento poblacional, pese a que la cantidad de habitantes ha aumentando considerablemente los últimos años”, así lo explica Martín Pérez Le-Fort, D director del Centro Asia Pacífico del Instituto de Estudios Internacionales de la Universidad de Chile.
Con sus 1147 millones de habitantes (estimados a septiembre de 2008 por el World CIA Fact Book) India se erige como la segunda nación más poblada del planeta, pero con una gran diferencia con su vecina China, el número de jóvenes es el más alto en el mundo (entre 0 y 14 años de edad) representando el 31,5% de la población total, es decir, 361 millones, algo así como la suma de los habitantes de Estados Unidos e Inglaterra.
Para Sergio Carrasco, columnista del Portal Chile Asia Pacífico y experto en India, uno de los motivos de la alta cantidad de jóvenes proviene de los musulmanes que viven en India, quienes no aceptan ningún tipo de control de natalidad. “Los musulmanes representan lo que denominaríamos en Chile el sector pobre de la sociedad y son muy apegados a sus costumbres. Una de ella es tener todos los hijos que ‘Dios les da’”, explica.
Carrasco profundiza el tema y explica que a diferencia de China, que es una dictadura, India es una democracia que no busca controlar el comportamiento de sus individuos. “Son una país tolerante y multiétnico, sin embargo aunque quisieran controlar la natalidad de los musulmanes no podrían porque son un mayoría muy importante y con representación en el parlamento, ellos jamás permitirían que una medida que restringiera la natalidad prosperase”, sentencia.
Una de los factores más interesantes de la India es que según señala la Oficina del Censo en Nueva Delhi el país para el año 2035 se convertiría en la nación más populosa del mundo alcanzando la desorbitante cifra de 1.460 millones de habitantes.
India contaba con 1.029 millones de habitantes en 2001 y se prevé que la población del país supere a la de China en 2035. Adicionalmente, al igual que en China, muchas familias prefieren tener varones, puesto que pueden contribuir económicamente al mantenimiento del hogar, mientras que las mujeres han de pagar dote para casarse y, por tanto, resultan una carga económica para la familia.
Lo anterior repercute en que el censo del año 2001 muestra una disminución importante en el porcentaje de la población femenina, que era de 945 por cada 1.000 hombres en 1991 y ha pasado a ser de 927 mujeres cada 1.000 hombres en el mismo año.
A ojos de Carrasco, quien hizo su doctorado en la Universidad Jawaharlal Nehru de Nueva Delhi, la evolución poblacional india generará un nuevo fenómeno mundial durante la próxima generación. “Debido a que los musulmanes continúan con altas tasas de natalidad, en los años venideros, India no sólo será la mayor democracia del mundo, sino que se convertirá en la más grande democracia con mayoría musulmana del planeta. Eso será interesante”, concluye.
Queen Sabine Mondestin is a actress, model, singer, dancer, writter, producer, and director.
To know more about this sublime multi talented artist visit her website at www.sabinemondestin.com
When the ordinary course of justice goes awry, the Iustitiae Praeconum calls upon the Vindicta Class Assault Vehicle to deliver squads of Enforcers to dispense justice on the Condemned.
For a long time when I was at University, most of my Lego building was focused on creating armies and terrain for games of Brikwars with a group of friends. While we stopped playing Brikwars with any semblance of regularity four or five years ago, most of the models for a couple of armies have remained intact since then, in a box under the spare bed, awaiting proper photography before I can finally disassemble them. Built between 2012 and 2016, the models themselves are of varying quality, but I thought I would upload and preserve them in photo form anyway.
These models come from my “main” Brikwars army - officially called the Iustitiae Praeconum, but more lovingly referred to as the “SpOrks”. Their backstory was that they were members of a highly advanced race that had taken it upon themselves to act as a galactic judge, jury, and executioner for other species they deemed criminal - Judge Dredd writ large. I decided that I wanted these highly advanced spacefarers to be Orks - hence “SpOrks”. Aesthetically they are heavily indebted to the Eldar/Craftworld Aeldari from Warhammer 40,000, with most of their vehicles taking direct inspiration from particular Eldar units.
Looking back on the army now, it is all a bit uncomfortably fascistic for my tastes, but I thought I would preserve the models - complete with the descriptions of the units I had put on their stat cards at the time - regardless.
I thought this fireworks shot looked liked hand writing in golden ink from some monastery. This looks like it may be more recent than cuniform or Linear A or B. Maybe this is a message from gawd warning against the mass of gun violence in America and exported throughout the entire world? Perhaps this is about the recent string of executions by cop, the conservative's NRA gun-fired violence or the Blair and Boy George dreams of a truly libertarian Iraq. Does Boy George get an award for achieving such a robust libertarian Iraq? Even the ISIS folks are free to pursue their libertarian pursuits.
I am again rolling out more of this year's Fourth of July celebration using action on the medium telephoto-zoom. I was in the good spot I used last year. I ran into the same problems with procedures shooting fireworks at night as I did last year. Maybe I'll get it right before long. This year was a chore: I had to buy my fifth for the fourth on the third! What else could go wrong? There were actual parking spaces at Golden Ponds before my long walk to the fourth venue.
The most prominent problem is tracking the action when triggering the exposure: the display and eyepiece go blank and alternate tracking strategy is needed. I am coming up with an apparatus that could overcome the problem, I had trouble with accurately tracking the action while using the monopod so I ditched the monopod this year. Why would I need steady? I have conferred with several psychiatrists about the many people with explosive personality defects even though psychiatrists have little to do with the study of science. There is a marked difference between psychiatrist's study of explosive personalities and the study of psychotics like the Koch Brothers and the righties. It's a cause and effect study.
I am adding these "action" shots to my stash of the fiery kind. Although I still have a pile to clean up, I dumped even more into storage this year. This one was taken at an opportune time that revealed there were multiple eruptions during the 2 1/2 second exposure. The EXIF reports only the start of zooms. Apparently there was good motion and the usual shakes as the fireworks erupted. I remained impressed with how these can appear stable at all at these slow exposures. The colors: I thought of how to react to the mass of colors.
I spent hours giving this stuff titles, but I also have some serious weeding as I add to my backlog.
PRAGA-PINTURA-PRAHA-ART-PAINTINGS-CASA-FRANZ KAFKA-PAISAJES-URBANOS-MONUMENTOS-CHEQUIA-CUADROS-ARTISTA-PINTOR-ERNEST DESCALS-
La casa en la que residió el célebre autor literario Franz Kafka que he querido mostrar en su misteriosa puerta y decenas de ventanas que nos hablan desde la fachada del edificio histórico, y uno de los monasterios que jalonan las montañas circundantes, naturaleza que guarda el monasterio. Cuadros del artista Pintor Ernest Descals sobre la ciudad amada, pintura pintada sobre papel de 50 x 65 centímetros. Bajo una especial y pesada luminosidad sigo en el pintar los innumerables motivos, paisajes y monumentos de esta mágica ciudad de PRAGA en Chequia, lugares en los que reside la poesía a raudales y que me interesa estar pintando desde la mirada del artista que todo lo traduce en al arte de la plástica sugerente.
The sculpture is only 4 cm large .
right upper arm : You can imagine that arm shooting a disintegrating
Newtonian beam .
Left upper Arm : Triple saw made from vintage brass clock gear .
Top Arm : Made from Mysterious yellow amber .
bottom arm : a single magnetic wheel for an alternative transport and stability .
Beholder's floats/hover above the ground . They are known to be obsessively Tyrannic .
Made by Daniel Proulx A.K.A : CatherinetteRings , Steampunk jewelry designer and sculptor
This sculpture is currently on display for the Oxford Steampunk Exhibition .
BEHOLDER WRITTING COMPETITION STORIES :
1ST PLACE WINNER:
A Light in the Darkness
by Will Steed
Hastings looked down the tunnel into the darkness. He looked down at his feet. The pools of filth lay stagnant on the ground at the edges, while a stream of foulness trickled down the middle. His shoes would have make do on their own. Some yards further into the tunnel, he found a twisted piece of iron left off to the side. He knew he was in the right place. The maker's mark on the iron matched the ones taken from the smith's yard near the docks.
Still further down the tunnel, there was a branch. One would lead to the lower reaches, the other further south, towards the houses on Merchant's Row. The criminal element of the lower reaches were prime candidates for the theft of scrap iron, but something tickled at the back of Hastings' brain. His intuition told him there was a connection between the theft of the scrap iron and rumors of an alliance between technologists and the guild of merchants, but there was nothing to prove it, or even to suggest that it was more than the hunch of a detective on probation.
Hastings listened carefully. Over the rumble of the train passing above, he could hear a deep rhythmic sound coming from the tunnel that lead towards Merchant's Row. He walked cautiously down the tunnel, avoiding the splashing of walking in puddles of Ada-knew-what.
As he progressed, the rhythm grew louder and resolved itself to human voices, chanting, and the flicker of torches bounced off the wall. A cult? he thought to himself. That would be the third one this year. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a metal flask, holding it firmly in his hand. As he approached the source of the chanting and flickering, he unlatched a metal cylinder from the beltloop that held his coat.
Before he made his presence known, he stopped to listen. The chanting was in Latin - Laudamus te, deo omnifacente, adjuta nobis, dea technologistorum. Of course it was in Latin, he thought. Latin is the language of the Roman church, why not of other gods? This cult originator had apparently done his research on cultistry. The chanters had dark robes, chalk designs on the floor, and a brass altar. Upon the altar, the mystic theme was broken by a pile of scrap metal. Among the lead and iron piping lay a large vicegrip, a dangerously oversized blunderbuss and a rotary sawblade.
Hastings drew attention to himself by flicking the lever on the side of the metal cylinder. The snapping of a spring and the sliding of metal against metal drew the attention of two cultists, who broke from the circle of robed enchanters and advanced on him. With his truncheon extended, he let the robed chanters reach him. The chanting from the other cultists changed, growing louder as he faced the fighters: venite, surmitte nobis monstrum mechanicum. The swinging truncheon caught one cultist on the knee, his scream loud enough to be heard over the chant, which grew louder with each repetition. A blow from the second cultist knocked him to the floor, his truncheon rolling out of reach, lying halfway into the chalk circle on the floor.
The lead cultist, with a thick gold chain hanging around his neck, drew forth a glass orb and placed it on the altar as the chanting stopped, leaving a ringing in Hastings' ears, and only the screaming of the injured cultist rang through the tunnel. The cultist who had punched Hastings pulled him up by his coat-front. Hastings shook the flask in his left hand and flicked the lid off it. A smell even fouler than the stench of the effluent in the tunnels rose into the cultist's nose. The grip on his coat slackened as the cultist collapsed to the floor in a stupor.
Covering the flask once more, Hastings returned his focus to the other cultists. The torches had blown out while his attention was distracted, and the tunnel was lit by the golden glow of the orb on the altar. The light was growing fast, and Hastings and the cultists were forced to cover their eyes.
When the light cleared the pile of scrap on the altar had gone. Instead, a metal creature was suspended in mid air above the altar. A large eye in the middle surveyed the room suspiciously while metallic tentacles moved around it. The sight of metal moving like flesh made Hastings' own flesh crawl. Most of the cultists looked as shocked and sickened as Hastings, backing away towards the walls, but the lead cultist held his ground.
'Behold! I bring you forth from the divine workshop' he declaimed. 'I bind you to this place, leaving only to do my bidding! I hold you here under my power until I see fit to remove you to the place from which you came.'
The metal creature regarded the room carefully, floating in silence. Its eye turned to the chalk markings on the floor. It floated to the edge of the circle, where Hastings' truncheon lay across the line on the floor. The eye shifted its gaze back to face the lead cultist, whose eyes had grown wide. The cultist looked at Hastings.
'What have you done?' he demanded of Hastings. 'You've given it its freedom. We have no control over it.'
Hastings knelt on the floor, looking dumbly at the metallic creature, which beheld the scene before it. The creature floated out of the chalk circle, leaving directly over the gap made by the truncheon. The eye beheld Hastings once more, dipping softly, before floating back up the tunnel towards the surface of the city.
The lead cultist fled after it, declaming in Latin. After they had both gone out of sight, there was the scream of spinning metal, the scream of suffering man and the sickening sound of death. A golden light flashed, and the screaming stopped.
Now in the dark, Hastings drew out a small box with a crank on it. After a short winding, a light glowed in the darkness. The whimpering sound of the remaining cultists turned to gratitude, and Hastings led the cultist merchants slowly back to the surface.
In a foggy alleyway, a light yellow glow grew. A scream pierced the night, and then there was silence.
my grandad took this
Every single day , I went to that place , sat in the sand and picked up the pen and while I was writing I could smell the firesides and the smell of the homemade bread.
I spent like 28 days in there , and even tho I didn't had Internet conection or signal I enjoyed every single day, with sadness or happiness. I feel so nostalgic rightnow.
grave,
quisera eu ser
grave
não fosse a idade
inventaria
mentiria
fingiria
a idéia de ser
grave
sem idade
para assim cair
grave
ereto e displicentemente
grave
........................................
finjo que gravo
em Pessoa a minha falta
grave
não, não me peça
a grave
idéia de ter medo
pela falta dela
me recuso e não caio...
e não a digo palavra,
frente ao espelho,
inexorável, me mantenho:
e desacato a lei, sem ela:
Grave.
carlos pataca
.. i am sry this one was taken in Lisbon in the CCB ( an detail of an installation) and i forgot to write the name of the artist, if you know...please
Sonchus is a genus of about 130 flowering plants in the dandelion tribe within the sunflower family. Most of the species are annual herbs and they are known as sow thistles (less commonly milk thistles, hare thistles or hare lettuces).
Sow thistles are common roadside plants, and while native to Eurasia and tropical Africa, they are found almost worldwide in temperate regions.
The 30 cm to 2 m long stem contains a milky latex.
Flower heads are yellow and range in size from 1 to 3 cm in diameter. The flowers are visited by various types of insects, especially bees, flies and hoverflies.
Melkdistel (Sonchus) is een geslacht van kruidachtige planten uit de familie Asteraceae. Er zijn circa 130 soorten.
Melkdistels komen van oorsprong uit Azië, Europa en Afrika, maar de melkdistels zijn inmiddels wereldwijd verspreid.
In Nederland en België komen vier soorten voor: Akkermelkdistel (Sonchus arvensis), Gekroesde melkdistel (Sonchus asper), Gewone melkdistel (Sonchus oleraceus) en Moerasmelkdistel (Sonchus palustris), die sterk op elkaar lijken.
De Nederlandse naam heeft de plant te danken aan de witte, zure latex dat het bij een breuk van de 0,3 à 2 m lange stengel afscheidt.
De afmeting van de gele bloemhoofdjes varieert van 1 tot 3 cm.
Melkdistels komen algemeen voor op verwilderde gronden als bouwterreinen, industrieterreinen, spoor- en wegbermen, slootkanten en braakliggende terreinen.
Deze foto is gemaakt in de met circa 100 veldbloemen ingezaaide vlindertuin van zorgboerderij De Passiflorahoeve bij Harskamp op de Veluwe tussen Ede en Apeldoorn. Info: www.passiflorahoeve.nl/.
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All rights reserved. Copyright © Martien Uiterweerd (Foto Martien).
All my images are protected under international authors copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without my written explicit permission.
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to write about dreams and magic
"Non respingere i sogni perché sono sogni.
Tutti i sogni
possono essere realtà,
se il sogno non finisce.
La realtà è un sogno.
..
E viviamo sognandola.
Sognare è il mezzo che l'anima ha
perché non le fugga mai
ciò che fuggirebbe se smettessimo
di sognare che è realtà ciò che non esiste.
Muore solo un amore che ha smesso di essere sognato
fatto materia e che si cerca sulla terra." [ Pedro Salinas ]
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{ © eLi.camomilla | do not use without permission. }
"I've learned that good-byes will always hurt, pictures will never replace having been there, memories good and bad will bring tears, and words can never replace feelings."
- Unknown Author
This goes out to the best photographers ive ever known and my two really close friends or i prefer saying brothers.
i find it really hard to be writting this cus i know for sure that flickr would never and will never be the same without you guys :(
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ive managed to capture them for the last time with some photos some of them they know about and some of them i took with them knowing hehe so i see that as some of best what i can offer and am happy i got the chance to do it :)
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its always been an honor to be working with you guys and for beeing best mates and brothers as long as we've known eachother , whats that like all our life hehe but good times we sure had :)
i goota give something to both of you guys as a little back for what you've always done with me :)
am not gona say its a project but lets just say the next coming photos will be about both of you and i hope before you leave flickr for good you'll get to check them out and hmm whatever YOU BOTH WiLL SEE THEM FOR THE LAST TIME cus i remebr i know where you both live heheh :P ..
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its always gona be something missing in flickr without you guys thats for sure .
am sure gona remeber you guys with every capture i take :)
so this goes out for my other two team mates ( QATAR PRESTIGE ) :
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I hope you people learned everything from them both cus belive what they can give is precious to find :)
Stay tuned who ever wants to say Fairwell Evo & Mj cus the upcoming photos will be uploaded faster than you think and try to catch up..
Thanks All
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Evo & Mj am sure gona miss you in here ( Flickr)
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