Ravens Play in Snow by Wildlife World
almost home
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
🪼
Misplaced Lens Cap

⁂
Cosimo Galluzzi

Product Placement

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
will byers stan first human second
Claire Keane
occasionally subtle

izzy's playlists!

tannertan36

Origami Around
styofa doing anything
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Mike Driver
Cosmic Funnies
One Nice Bug Per Day
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
seen from Uruguay
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seen from Chile
@dancingphalanges
Ravens Play in Snow by Wildlife World
i started doing things scared and doing things alone years ago the real challenge is doing things tired
Lois Weber
Director and screenwriter Lois Weber was born in 1879 in Allegheny City, Pennsylvania. Weber's 1914 film The Merchant of Venice was the first American feature film directed by a woman. In 1916, she was the highest-paid studio director, man or woman, in the country. By 1940, Weber had directed more than 130 shorts and features. She made controversial films that dealt with social issues like abortion and birth control, and pioneered techniques such as double exposure and split screen.
Lois Weber died in 1939 at the age of 60.
Hélène Cixous, tr. Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen, The Laugh of the Medusa
Georgia O'Keeffe, Abiquiu, NM, Photo by Philippe Halsman, 1948
sorry i need to be weird and grotesque or i’ll die
Paintings of flowers by Rachel Ruysch
Lee Bontecou (1931-2022).
also does anyone else feel like the death of public spaces and the subsequent digitization of all socialization has led to the downfall of subculture and the rise of aesthetic, which has in turn fostered a pervasive feeling of inauthenticity, as if we are, and are surrounded by, posers attempting to infiltrate a subculture that doesn't exist? clap if the death of public spaces and the subsequent digitization of all socialization has led to the downfall of subculture and the rise of aesthetic, which has in turn fostered a pervasive feeling of inauthenticity, as if we are, and are surrounded by, posers attempting to infiltrate a subculture that doesn't exist
Found my old webkinz under the mint patch today
[ID: a photo of a Webkinz plush, covered in soil and with roots growing around it. End ID]
~ Bianca Sparacino, "The Strength In Our Scars"
On August 29th 1930 the population of St Kilda archipelago were evacuated.
Huddled together near the stern of HMS Harebell they were conveyed from Village Bay on Hirta, the largest of the St Kildan islands, on a 17-hour voyage to mainland Scotland. Most of the islanders disembarked at Lochaline in the Morvern peninsula, a Gaelic-speaking area, and, as planned, many worked for the Forestry Commission. The remainder alighted at Oban and dispersed more widely to Inverness, Portree, Culross and Stromeferry.
Whilst the authorities hoped the evacuation would receive minimal attention, it was inevitable that an exodus from such an iconic island attracted the exuberant media attention as it did, indeed 92 years later it still holds a fascination with people the world over.
Observing tradition, the islanders left an open Bible and a small pile of oats in each house,leaving the houses unlocked, and at 7am boarded the Harebell.
Although exhausted by the strain and hard work of the last few days, they were reported to have remained cheerful throughout the operation. Finally, at 8am the ship pulled away from the St Kildans’ homeland, the only one they had known.
As they steamed eastwards and the familiar outline of the island grew faint, the severing of an ancient tie became a reality and the St Kildans gave way to tears.
The women stood at the stern of the Harebell, their shawls around their heads, waving goodbye to the island until it was out of sight.
The shy people from Village Bay did not expect the throng that surrounded them” at Lochaline pier. One of the islanders, Lachlan Macdonald, recalled: “There was an awful lot of reporters and journalists there… As far as I can make out, they were thinking when they were coming from St Kilda that they were odd folk who didn’t know anything, they were more like wild beasts … a curiosity, just as if you were going to the zoo to see some wild beast or something like that.”
Not for the first time in the historiography of St Kilda, the drama of evacuation further enhanced the island group’s iconic status popularly rooted in its environmental and cultural distinctiveness.
The islanders left behind their village on Hirta – the only island that was inhabited – consisting of a single street of stone-walled houses built in the 19th century to replace earlier dwellings known as black houses that still stand, their roofs covered with turf.
Generations had struggled to scrape a living from the unforgiving land far out in the Atlantic, but the 20th century had finally caught up with the harsh reality of existence there. It was a brutal process, as they carried their possessions and their furniture on their backs to the pier, the men had the unenviable task of drowning their working dogs in the sea, as they were not allowed to take them with them to the mainland, it was either that or leave them to starve, a very harsh ending to their life on the archipelago. Their cats were left to fend for themselves, but from what I can gather were eventually all killed off by the military over the next few years.
St Kilda is not unique, other Scottish Islands were abandoned beforehand, most notably, Handa, off Sutherland which met its doom in the 1840s. Mingulay, in the Outer Hebrides that was deserted by 1912. In previous posts I have also told you about one of the most recent islands to be “abandoned” Scarp, in the Outer Hebrides.
The Islands of St Kilda though had become a curiosity, a sort of freak show for tourists to observe, several operators take people to St Kilda to see what has been left behind, researchers and volunteers live on the island during the summer months and since 1957 people have lived on the main island of Hirta on a temporary basis to operate a military radar station.
In 2016 the last surviving resident of those evacuated from St Kilda, died. Rachel Johnson was born at Hirta in July 1922 and was eight years old when she, her family and other islanders left the isle. She settled in Clydebank and she lived there the rest of her life.
RARE BIRD SEEN FOR FIRST TIME IN 140 YEARS
A September expedition to Papua New Guinea confirmed via video the existence of the black-naped pheasant pigeon, a critically endangered spe
Here’s some pictures - they’re so damn pretty!
[ID: Three pictures of a small, robust bodied bird standing on leaf litter on the forest floor. It has a glossy black body and tail, chestnut colored wings, yellow legs, red eyes, and a red beak. End ID]
@todaysbird
welcome back 🥺
How could you not include the scientists reaction to the trail cam footage
Writing has come hard to me. When I started to write professionally, I scared myself even more. I took forever to write everything because I had no faith in myself, I was full of self-doubt. I couldn’t believe anybody wanted anything I wrote and that’s the way it was for many years. In my own eyes, I’m an underachiever. There’s much I could have written that I haven’t written, because everything took so long. It took so long because I was always not sure what I was doing.
At Home With Vivian Gornick | Affidavit (via neoyorzapoteca)
Dominique Alonzo (? - 1930), Judith - vers 1920.
Pour one out for all the stories you'll never find again, that you barely remember in totality, but that left an impression on you that you'll never forget.
The short stories from standardized tests that you only had a few minutes to read, but those minutes will last a lifetime.
The books on the library display shelf you used to occupy time until your mom could come pick you up from school.
The graphic novel you picked up when you were first getting into comics and could never find again.
The single lines or themes from stories you otherwise don't remember, save for the one thing that you saw and internalized as a new part of your personality.
Let's pour one out for the books that built us, even if we never could find them again, and couldn't of we wanted to.