Living a fantasy @masterking1952 - Tumblr Blog

Where Do You Go to My Lovely - Complete Version (Peter Sarstedt)

the images match the song perfectly. Not 100% certain it is about the glorious Sofia Loren but it could be.

crescentmoon06-deactivated20230

Red Carpet………..

masterking1952

Now thats a real red carpet.

quotemadness

Poetry springs from something deeper; it’s beyond intelligence. It may not even be linked with wisdom. It’s a thing of its own; it has a nature of its own. Undefinable.

Jorge Luis Borges (via quotemadness)

so true, you just feel the need to put it down on paper, on a screen, in the sand with a stick. When the time is right you will know.

while-i-kiss-the-sky

inaperfectlife

Everyday

masterking1952

Could this be a very young Elle McPherson?

photoces

masterking1952

You touched my soul, simply by saying hello, you danced with me through the night and it’s darkness was lit by your smile, you said things to me that only you could of known, you reached into the depths of my despair and lifted me to face the dawn. We touched and then you were gone, not by design but by the circumstances that neither of us could control, I loved you like I have never loved before, and still to this day wonder why we didn’t make it together. When i walk the beach alone, letting the wind and sand blast my skin, I wonder what could of been and why I let you go.

#Port Adelaide SA circa 2015-19

I had taken several similar shots like this one, for a study and a competition. For some reason coloured images just didn’t quite capture what I was feeling. The emptiness, the hard work and dirt that surrounded the site. But this one stood out for me.

#The workings.

Boarded up and left to rot. 150 years forgotten

wonderful weird lights of blue. taken at a workshop, November 2019 on Largs Bay beach in South Australia. So even though I pushed a button, this is a work of many different people

#lights of blue

neatly planted rows upon rows of the next vintage, soaking up the sunshine, catching natures gift

left unused as the past is fading fast, rusting, decaying, never to be used. No more yelling, no more cursing as the tide is changing fast, this cargo to be taken somewhere on the other side of the globe. Now making way for younger types, to set up houses, to drink their coffees, to walk their dogs, chasing seagulls leaving spots on freshly painted awnings. They won’ t remember when these rails were busy, when men were cursing at the changing of the tide.