Posts in Category: candids

Broken shoe

Well, I liked it – that was the main thing. I liked it, but I didn‘t think of it in terms of a career. I didn`t really know; I didn’t really think about it. One thing just led to another until finally I quit my job as a salesman and found myself working as a photographer.

– Herb Ritts

Dad, daughter, coffee maker

What makes photography a strange invention – with unforeseeable consequences – is that its primary raw materials are light and time.

– John Berger (art critic)

Strictly no inflatables

Omul Prin Fereastra Temniței

“O, ce este omul? Spicul ierbii, precum a spus Iov, pe care îl coseşte mâna lui Dumnezeu. Ce rămân? Paiele. Ce se ia cu mâna nevăzută? Spicul. Al Tău e sufletul, Doamne, iar trupul e al pământului. La despărţire, fiecare îşi ia ce-i al lui: pământul – trupul, Domnul – sufletul. Cunoaşterea noastră este una cu necunoaşterea în amândouă cazurile: şi când privim la cel viu, şi când privim la cel mort. (…)

Unde sânt chefurile petrecăreţilor, unde-i cântecul celor voioşi, unde-i larma celor puternici, unde-i vuietul celor trufaşi? Unde-i strigătul şi răcnetul celor năimiţi şi corupţi? O vor şti mai bine decât capul tău tălpile tale, când vor călca peste osemintele lor uscate, pentru că te vor înţepa şi te vor face să gemi.Unde este farmecul rotunjimilor şi plinătăţii trupului? În viermăraia şi în murdăria de negrăit. Unde sânt sânii atrăgători, care tresăltau de dragoste? În muşuroiul de sub copitele măgarilor. Unde sânt mâinile mai scumpe decât aurul, care slujeau oaspeţilor? Acum sânt beţe uscate sub roţile căruţelor. (…) Unde sânt cinstirile şi onorurile? În strunele rupte şi în timpanele sparte. Unde este strălucirea feţei şi a ochilor? În obrajii umflaţi şi în bezna orbitelor goale.

Unde sânt împăraţii, Doamne? Întreabă slugile lor. Unde sânt bogătaşii, Doamne? Întreabă cerşetorii. Unde sânt femeile frumoase? Întreabă viermii şi râmele.

Pe deplin, nimica sântem în faţa lui Dumnezeu. Doamne Dumnezeul nostru, nimica sântem! Răsărim şi ne uscăm ca iarba. Ne risipim ca un nor fără apă. Ne ofilim ca florile în grădină. Ne înălţăm şi ne pierdem ca fumul şi aburul. Venim şi trecem ca nuntaşii. Ne auzim şi amuţim ca sunetul fluierului. Sântem ca un călător care poate zice: Bună dimineaţa!, dar nu-i mai e dat să spună: Bună seara! Sântem ca o poezie pe care o recită poetul şi, într’o clipă, se întrerupe. “

(Sf. Nicolae Velimirovici – „Prin Fereastra Temnitei”)

Visul pescarului

visul pescarului

Lately I’ve been struck with how I really love what you can’t see in a photograph.

– Diane Arbus

It will be morning in America again


Midnight has passed. A new day has come. And everything is about to change.

This wasn’t an election. It was a revolution.

It’s midnight in America. The day before fifty million Americans got up and stood in front of the great iron wheel that had been grinding them down. They stood there even though the media told them it was useless. They took their stand even while all the chattering classes laughed and taunted them.

They were fathers who couldn’t feed their families anymore. They were mothers who couldn’t afford health care. They were workers whose jobs had been sold off to foreign countries. They were sons who didn’t see a future for themselves. They were daughters afraid of being murdered by the “unaccompanied minors” flooding into their towns. They took a deep breath and they stood.

They held up their hands and the great iron wheel stopped.

The Great Blue Wall crumbled. The impossible states fell one by one. Ohio. Wisconsin. Pennsylvania. Iowa. The white working class that had been overlooked and trampled on for so long got to its feet. It rose up against its oppressors and the rest of the nation, from coast to coast, rose up with it.

They fought back against their jobs being shipped overseas while their towns filled with migrants that got everything while they got nothing. They fought back against a system in which they could go to jail for a trifle while the elites could violate the law and still stroll through a presidential election. They fought back against being told that they had to watch what they say. They fought back against being held in contempt because they wanted to work for a living and take care of their families.

They fought and they won.

This wasn’t a vote. It was an uprising. Like the ordinary men chipping away at the Berlin Wall, they tore down an unnatural thing that had towered over them. And as they watched it fall, they marveled at how weak and fragile it had always been. And how much stronger they were than they had ever known.

Who were these people? They were leftovers and flyover country. They didn’t have bachelor degrees and had never set foot in a Starbucks. They were the white working class. They didn’t talk right or think right. They had the wrong ideas, the wrong clothes and the ridiculous idea that they still mattered.

They were wrong about everything. Illegal immigration? Everyone knew it was here to stay. Black Lives Matter? The new civil rights movement. Manufacturing? As dead as the dodo. Banning Muslims? What kind of bigot even thinks that way? Love wins. Marriage loses. The future belongs to the urban metrosexual and his dot com, not the guy who used to have a good job before it went to China or Mexico.

They couldn’t change anything. A thousand politicians and pundits had talked of getting them to adapt to the inevitable future. Instead they got in their pickup trucks and drove out to vote.

And they changed everything.

Barack Hussein Obama boasted that he had changed America. A billion regulations, a million immigrants, a hundred thousand lies and it was no longer your America. It was his.

He was JFK and FDR rolled into one. He told us that his version of history was right and inevitable.

And they voted and left him in the dust. They walked past him and they didn’t listen. He had come to campaign to where they still cling to their guns and their bibles. He came to plead for his legacy.

And America said, “No.”

Fifty millions Americans repudiated him. They repudiated the Obamas and the Clintons. They ignored the celebrities. They paid no attention to the media. They voted because they believed in the impossible. And their dedication made the impossible happen.

Americans were told that walls couldn’t be built and factories couldn’t be opened. That treaties couldn’t be unsigned and wars couldn’t be won. It was impossible to ban Muslim terrorists from coming to America or to deport the illegal aliens turning towns and cities into gangland territories.

It was all impossible. And fifty million Americans did the impossible. They turned the world upside down.

It’s midnight in America. CNN is weeping. MSNBC is wailing. ABC calls it a tantrum. NBC damns it. It wasn’t supposed to happen. The same machine that crushed the American people for two straight terms, the mass of government, corporations and non-profits that ran the country, was set to win.

Instead the people stood in front of the machine. They blocked it with their bodies. They went to vote even though the polls told them it was useless. They mailed in their absentee ballots even while Hillary Clinton was planning her fireworks victory celebration. They looked at the empty factories and barren farms. They drove through the early cold. They waited in line. They came home to their children to tell them that they had done their best for their future. They bet on America. And they won.

They won improbably. And they won amazingly.

They were tired of ObamaCare. They were tired of unemployment. They were tired of being lied to. They were tired of watching their sons come back in coffins to protect some Muslim country. They were tired of being called racists and homophobes. They were tired of seeing their America disappear.

And they stood up and fought back. This was their last hope. Their last chance to be heard.

Watch this video. See ten ways John Oliver destroyed Donald Trump. Here’s three ways Samantha Bee broke the internet by taunting Trump supporters. These three minutes of Stephen Colbert talking about how stupid Trump is owns the internet. Watch Madonna curse out Trump supporters. Watch Katy Perry. Watch Miley Cyrus. Watch Robert Downey Jr. Watch Beyonce campaign with Hillary. Watch. Click.

Watch fifty million Americans take back their country.

The media had the election wrong all along. This wasn’t about personalities. It was about the impersonal. It was about fifty million people whose names no one except a server will ever know fighting back. It was about the homeless woman guarding Trump’s star. It was about the lost Democrats searching for someone to represent them in Ohio and Pennsylvania. It was about the union men who nodded along when the organizers told them how to vote, but who refused to sell out their futures.

No one will ever interview all those men and women. We will never see all their faces. But they are us and we are them. They came to the aid of a nation in peril. They did what real Americans have always done. They did the impossible.

America is a nation of impossibilities. We exist because our forefathers did not take no for an answer. Not from kings or tyrants. Not from the elites who told them that it couldn’t be done.

The day when we stop being able to pull off the impossible is the day that America will cease to exist.

Today is not that day. Today fifty million Americans did the impossible.

Midnight has passed. A new day has come. And everything is about to change.

Now is the Time To Bind The Wounds Of Division


„They said we could never do it. But last night you showed the world that America will once again be a country of, for, and by the PEOPLE.

You fought like a winner, you defied all odds, and history will forever remember the role you played in taking our country back. I never could’ve done it without you, Oana. Last night we learned that America is still a beacon of hope where the impossible is possible.

For far too long, we’ve heard Washington politicians give the excuse that “it can’t be done.” They say we can’t balance the budget, we can’t stop corruption, we can’t control the border, we can’t bring jobs back to our country.

I REFUSE to accept that it can’t be done. This is the country that declared its independence, won two world wars, and landed a man on the moon. This is America. We can and we WILL get it done. Now it’s time to start uniting our country and binding the wounds of our divided nation.

I promise to be a president for ALL Americans. I will work for you. I will fight for you. And I will win for you. You will soon remember what it’s like to win as an American.

Thank you and God bless you,

Donald J. Trump”


Black tea, white light (Kerala, India)

Tea house, Munnar, Kerala state, SW India

Some 35.000 Tamil workers from nearby Tamil Nadu state have been relocated on the tea plantations in the mountains near the city of Munnar. Workers come here with their families or establish one here. They are provided with housing, baby care facilities, health care facilities in several colonies located a few kms from each other.

Each colony has a communal building serving as caffe/tea house, meeting hall etc.

One cup of black tea (excellent, by the way) has a price of 5 rupees for locals (and 10 rupees, unofficial price, for tourists – not very frequent though). One euro equals 70 rupees…

Tea plantations are the property of Tata Chai (70%) and Kerala state government (30%). The Govt here os run by the Communist Party. Seems like even the Commies are not what they used to be.

Anyway, working people seem to be taken care of here.


The Doll

2015-09-22 Malta 021_resize“I still need the camera because it is the only reason anyone is talking to me.”

  • – Annie Leibovitz