Enjoying nature and photography.
A tempting shimmer, often bright and sometimes dimmer, tiny twinkles, shiny flickers, mighty seas of jolly glimmer, gently waving in the wind, often aligned, yet intertwined, thin blades on fire, in shades refined, ensnare the mind, tether the eyes, mankind inclined to stay right here, witness the rustling, bustling weeds, small beads pinned by the sun, a moment passes, all is gone.
A little island in the south, well-known by many, word of mouth does travel far. And bizarre houses out of glass are stuffed with greens, do grace the place – in midst the lake – en masse.
When lights are out night sounds appear and overlay the gloss of days, thoughts cross, until a warbler, without fear, sings out his doubt aloud.
Whirling through the empty space, to chase the dream to leave a trace, we lose the reference at times of what's important, how to pace our lives, to live for us, not for archives.
We got lost in a time without bounds, with no home we roamed foreign towns, to begin once again on new grounds, seeking comfort in familiar sounds.
Music, like a home. All pictures shot in-camera by using multiple additive exposures. No post-processing merging, blending, or stacking. All pictures free from AI-creation or -enhancement.
A memory, far far away, like a distant gentle smell, appears and lingers on the soul, as if it was just yesterday that we got lost, nature embossed so soft and mild, we long to dwell, but it’s drowned by present tense, and just leaves subtle wounds – farewell.
Stars enclosed deep in the vale, doubly exposed, a lizards' tail scurries down the winding trail and vanishes – a fairytale.
Bellende Hunde jede Stunde, von Sekunde zu Sekunde reist der Geist von wach zu schlaf. Zu wach: Ein lauter Krach, der Nachbar schließt laut seine Tür – ohne jegliches Gespür. Ich mach das Dach zu und lieg flach im schwülen Bus, jetzt fehlt frischer Luft-Zufluss: Fenster auf zum Kühlen. Schluss, jetzt wird tief geschlummert. Endlich leise, zeitweise. Vögel singen, paarweise, Ton-Gebilde in die Nacht. Milde Luft bringt feinen Duft von Regen rein, von wegen kein Wasser, es tropft und strömt, wir sind verwöhnt von einsamer Natur; pur, rund um die Uhr. Und in der Ferne helle Sterne, eine einzelne Laterne leuchtet mitten ins Gesicht, ihr Licht durchbricht die dunkle Nacht, unangebracht. Feine Glocken von drei Schafen, Wellen im entfernten Hafen – wir schlummern ein, so gut es geht, bevor der nächste Tag ansteht.
A timid giant rides the wind, ill-famed and often framed as ravenous, yet kind inside, enchants mankind, dwells unconfined, a gust of wind below his wings, a king of kings, untamed and wild.
Do you remember the first time you heard your favorite album? The first time you fell in love with someone special? Or the last time you were fully enchanted by the inimitable beauty of nature? I, for the first time, saw one of the largest birds in Europe – the griffon vulture. And ever since, I can’t get enough.
Missed opportunities amidst routines, thoughts caught by obtrusive screens – for laziness we stride for now, hide from duties, disallow old habits to creep in, begin a time with generosity, a life without velocity.
Punkt im Dunkeln