My friend Nick focusing on the ball in concentration.
This was done in 3 steps:
I took the photo with my MyTouch Q smart phone
I then modified it with Color Sketch for Android
Then processed it with a filter with Instagram
Photography by Paulette L Motzko Photography Studios
Copyright, February 24th, 2014
– Street Portrait (for and of John Pannell), 2014 –
John was crossing the road on Great Queen Street, London, UK, when I spotted him. It was the end of a not particularly productive day, so he saved it for me. I loved John’s sense of style – it seemed like a natural extension of his personality. He was really good about me taking a few shots – this is the last one I took and my favourite. Thanks very much for stopping, John! Hope you like your picture.
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In winter’s grasp …
FRISCO — Despite the risk of slightly frostbitten fingers, I have a strange fascination with the frost formations that grace the Colorado high country during the winter. The best time to photograph them is during the middle to late part of fall, when daily temperature fluctuations are greatest and there’s still some moist air streaming off streams, ponds and lakes. That’s the combination that fuels the best growth.
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a cormorant settles
the swell of my chest
lunar tides ebb and flow
beneath rice paper skin
its blue disc of an eye
tracks anonymous prey
within fleshy oceans
vague shadows that dart
near the surface elicit
its quarter note calls
before plunging its beak
into tumbledown tissues
diving the chasm where
once beat a heart at the
precipice gone now to
swallowing depths out
of sight sunk in endless
black swirls ever down
into bottomless madness
Trilingual post: English, Italian and Romanian languages
We are only mills that grind the stones of time.
The powders we use then in the drawings on the sky, it seems to us the prayers.
We increase the Nothing, giving him auras of importance.
We cast away the facts and aspirations that could have saved us, we expect miracles until what…
Comes as a hiccup or a raised of eyelid, last wonder –
Only then can we perceive the substance of the time and that, in fact, the stones had gnawed the mills.
And the wind was our breath wasted, the unnoticed miracle…
Siamo soltanto dei mulini che macinano le pietre del tempo.
Le polveri le usiamo poi nei disegni sul cielo, sembrandoci delle preghiere.
Aumentiamo il nulla, dandogli aure d’importanze.
Neghiamo i fatti e le aspirazioni, che potevano salvarci, aspettiamo i miracoli fino a che…
Viene come un singhiozzo o…
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