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took a little trip while sipping coffee #emoji #retroRocket #photoFX #juxtaposer #mextures #editJunkie #destroy2cre8
Happy Birthday to my Mom.
90 years old today.
In a wheelchair but still rock'n and roll'n.
"Ewig Weibliche (Eternal Feminine)"
PostSelfie Pride Celebration /// #glitchart #newportraiture #vaporwave #newmedia
"The abbot in Bad Niessach had only one dream: that they build a chapel and bathhouse by the springs, drawing pilgrims to the healing waters. For a very long time, the funds did not permit it; but this only fueled his passion, and his dream even expanded, to include a high altar at one end of the large warm pool, so that he could lead congregants in worship, even as they lay - clothed, of course, in a mineral bath. He soon realized that that would require special sermons, homilies, and even music; this thought gripped him with the force of a revelation, and he threw himself into the task of composing these. Then, one day, the abbey was visited by a finely dressed young man, accompanied by only a single servant..."
"The memory that eluded me the longest was also, strangely, the most vivid - and the most difficult part of the journey, the most confusing, the most agonized and fearful: the way back to life after having died."
"They were all walking back and forth in that room. They were all talking, to themselves, oblivious of the people beside them. I looked up to see the sky, and the skyline of an old city. Was it a room indeed, or something else? I thought I saw Pamela, or an aged Pamela… I hadn't seen her since high school... I went up to her, greeting her, but she paid no attention. She just walked forward, talking; I fell in beside her and walked along. I realized that what she spoke was far from random; in fact, she repeated the same phrase: 'I cannot be here. I do not accept this. I will change my appearance and simply walk out. Simply walk away.' Despite the feeling of being in a street, it felt too close; I walked back out the double doors."
#decim8 #destroy2cre8 #kmae #surreal42
"Five Favelas, #1, Second Series"
repost via @instarepost20 from @swett22
#redhookbrooklyn #brooklyn #ny #edit #rsa_streets #royalsnappingartists #thehorrorgallery #thou_shall_decim8 #instaedits #pixelwakker #abstract #artphotogram #abstract_masters #abstractors_anonymous #surreal42 #minimalism42 #masters_of_darkness #macabre #decim8 #darkart #darkenss #decim8nday #digitalart #destroy2cre8 #darkphotography #horror #horrorclub #instarepost20
"The affair began innocently, accidentally - at least, telling herself that seemed to put a greater weight of responsibility on her neglectful husband. She even entertained the thought that it was at first an innocent mistake - Torsten was her husband Carsten's identical twin - but this was ludicrous, and she soon reproached herself for the cowardly stratagem. The story she evolved, with great subtlety (even poetry) was that it was a higher species of loyalty to her wedding vows that drove her to Torsten; in his arms, she gave herself to the real Carsten, not to the exhausted, driven man whom she had actually married. Of course, the long trips to China that the false Carsten made (a few minutes older, he had inherited the company) had provided her with the opportunity to have a series of honeymoons with Torsten/Carsten, punctuated by brief visits from her husband (who was astonished to find that she no longer nagged or sulked when he returned - on the contrary, she was solicitous and patient with his jet-lag, his late-night phone conferences, his frustration with Chinese bureaucracy); and the magnificent modern home that she had been given provided her and her real Carsten shelter and alibi - no need for hotels or dark glasses, no risk of inconvenient explanations. Her insistence on sleeping in the master bedroom was at first alarming to Torsten, even as he was thrilled by the transgression; but from childhood he had been skilled at adapting to the wishes of others, especially to women, and their lives settled into a routine."
"The freed slaves had a longer life expectancy than their parents, but of course much shorter than the population at large. There were exceptions, of course; and I was astonished, one afternoon, to discover, a full 70 years after Emancipation, that the handyman, with his leathery skin and perpetual cigar, had been a slave as a young man. We called him Oba (if he had a surname, I never knew it), and my most vivid recollection of him was when as a sixteen-year old I missed the last bus back from Congreve. This was serious because I had gone without permission to visit my girlfriend there. I was standing at the bus stop, not so proud of my cleverness, not seeing any good options, contemplating an all-night hike, when Oba came along in his black pickup. Without a word, and without asking for explanation, he opened the door and I got in. He didn't say a word the whole way, as the sun went down on the dreamy East Carolina countryside. He sang to himself, however, in an undertone bass voice, what I think must have been a gospel tune - for it was one single melody that he repeated over and over. We clanked along the thirty miles, and at last he brought me to our gate, where he left me, again without a word. I saw him many times after that, but we never spoke of what had happened."
"Spring came, and I was still convalescing from the stroke that "killed" me. I enjoyed being dependent, looking forward to the breeze in the afternoon, the smell of the earth that Seth the gardener turned up, being wheeled out into the garden in the cold mornings. I admit that I played the invalid longer than necessary; everyone assumed that I would return to running the company, but the thought was, frankly, horrifying. My niece Sadie was in music school, and she and her boyfriend would come and stay for long weekends; he played the lute, of all things, and she would sing Elizabethan songs after dinner with him. One morning Angela brought me out to the garden, and, left alone with my blanket and black coffee, I listened to the bees buzzing, no thought in my mind but the wonder of being alive, drowsily sunk into the wooden bench... And then I saw him. As I think now, I don't actually know his gender, but I will say "he". And I remembered him, from when I was dead... He was the one who had asked me if I wanted to stay; and now he asked me the same thing. This time I said yes, and I haven't seen him since - though I suspect that we will meet again when the time comes - as it must, I am certain. I had the slightly ludicrous thought that this 'follow-up' must be standard customer service. Then the buzzing and the breeze resumed, and the crunching of the shovel breaking ground in the kitchen garden, and the sound of a boyfriend practicing the lute."
"Piranesian Prison, with Graffiti "
That beer was pretty good.
#beer + #decim8 = #WIN!
Sweetie (14D) // From my series "Little Monsters" /// #postphotography #glitchart #newportraiture #newmediaart
Joshie (iteration D) // from my series "Little Monsters" /// #postphotography #glitchart #newportraiture #newmedia
Is it cold out there in the fields of those memories? || #decim8 #destroy2cre8 #glitchr #glitch #glitchart #edit #art #ocean #sunno)))
"Gradually, and only months later, did the memory of that experience return - of that place, I could say, because the experience was one of having been somewhere. or, really of having been in a sequence of spaces. There was one open space, brightly lit, where long-legged men and women seemed to glide along or stand like statues, some of them looking at me while others paid no attention; but, in any case, none of them spoke. As I stood there a while, I realized that none of them was entering or leaving; they merely moved about - or didn't move - inside that large room. Were they dead souls? Was that a room in the Palace of Eternity (or, as it insistently occurs to me now, the Museum of Eternity...)? Forgive me the grandiose language; I know it sounds overblown, but it seems somehow right, even as I cannot justify it. Of one thing I am certain, however: it was not a dream."
Pei Wei by #decim8
Take 2 of 2
with #gloomlogue and #squareready
entry for @double_Expo challenge #D_Expo_Abstract
PostSelfie of mah good eye /// #postphotography #newmedia #newportraiture #vaporwave #glitchart
My mind is not playing tricks on me, I swear. Still, who could that be? #decim8 #destroy2cre8 #abstractors_anonymous #surreal42 #puresavvy #abstracta #gorillaz #dare #the_abstract_collective #thou_shall_decim8 #_tac #tvalvi #selfie sort of
Pei Wei by #decim8
"I had died. The nurses with their shocked and wondering faces - three of them, it must have been, and the doctor, of course - were looking down at me. How odd, I thought, because they were arranged just like those others, the ones in the dark... The other ones' faces were serene, though... 'Welcome back, Mr. Craft. We thought we'd lost you 20 minutes ago.' 'I'm terribly thirsty,' I said, my head aching and the sheet drenched in sweat. Strange to say, I forgot about those serene faces for months afterward."
.chihuahua descending a staircase #53.
"Mr. Smith and Mrs. Jones"