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West Pier, Sunset, Starlings and two paddle boarders - If you wish to buy this photo follow this link






















Taking time to make space for endeavors, which I haven’t been making enough time for... received positive news and very tragic news this week. Reminder that life is too short to be overwhelmed by anxiety. – at Montrose Mercantile







Our Anna Upcoming Movie Post Production Works Going On Super Speed💥 Planning To Release On 2020 Summer😎 No Title Font , First Look Release As Of Now But The Movie Hold Very Good Hype👍




Our Anna Upcoming Movie Post Production Works Going On Super Speed 💥 Planning To Release On 2020 Summer😎 No Title Font , First Look Release As Of Now But The Movie Hold Very Good Hype👍




Winter on the Road in Michigan 47: Winter on the Road in Michigan 47 A Journey down US 23 towards Ann Arbor Michigan This photograph is from a series traveling through Chicago and on the Chicago River Life Photography…



























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Ty-Gwyn Prehistoric Standing Stone at Night, Anglesey, North Wales, 19.1.20.

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Bryn Celli Ddu Prehistoric Burial Chamber at Night, Anglesey, North Wales, 19.1.20.

No filter! That sky was something else tonight!

There are alot of butts in your ashtray

There’s alot of butts in your ashtray. Alot of platforms in the station for the trains to pass through. Alot of jobs on the noticeboard, books on the shelf, tables to sit at, places to lay root.

Fate’s wheel continues to spin so many options so little choosing, not enough time. YOLO. Be careful you make the right one. How do you feel? So many ways though, why not adventure you have so many more years to go yet. So many options too few choices. So much thinking through options so much thought. Blinking and ticking, alarms and new years, sunrises, sunsets it’s all just a blur. Waiting to stand on a balcony above all the choices, after the committee have made the recommendations and summon forth this new era like some Roman emperor. The Christolian century. The Christful decade. The Topherian period. So far we just passed the dark ages. With the pitiful literature left we build on the deficit trying to decipher what has been left to us in books and spurious web searches. Somewhat lost in the beauty and deadness of it all.

The rising calls to be creative sound all the more fictious and contrived. Lets get a better creative routine. Lets see more theatre. Lets tick some other box which will get me towards that marvelous miraclous creative career. I mean they will help writing will help seeing things will help but only doing something substantial will help matters. Get a routine? Well isn’t that more difficult than buying it at Tesco. It’s about persistence resistance and fortitude. It’s nota bought off the shelf ready made job with a clear route and obvious progression routes. It’s precarious. It’s scary. It’s being willing to let go. It’s the not knowing. It’s the nuance and excitement. It’s a ball-ache. It’s surrendering to the never certain. A space of exploration but the more is found the more you don’t understand.


Ideas in the works about tangible things.

What about a gallery showing? - need new laptop

A script for Kasper by August

We sit together on the high deck of the summer house. Our feet dangling over the edge, looking out at the water. She has her arms resting on the middle bar and seems intensely focused on the small cabin across the bay. It was derelict, the dock falling away and the cottage unpainted and weary looking.

I am focused on the large rock across the bay next to the small decrepit cottage. There is a tall flag pole, painted white and naked without a flag. The cicadas sound their cacophonous symphony off in the distance and we say nothing. She is just as lost in thought as I am. She turns her face to me, a smile dancing across her lips before she leans in and slaps me upside the head. I blinked, confused.

“Mosquito,” she murmurs and goes back to staring across the bay.

He was simply exhausted. The funeral had been tiresome. People and their condolences over his daughter. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He comes home to an empty house. He sits down in the breakfast nook, and stares at the tabletop for a moment. His phone had been vibrating in his pocket intermittently throughout the funeral and even now. He reaches into his pocket and sighs.

His phone is filled with text messages from friends concerned, and more condolences. He is too mentally exhausted to read them all. He presses DELETE ALL and goes to put the phone down. One message is left behind. A voicemail. It’s a last message from his daughter, left before she passed and it is still marked as ‘new’. He would have to listen to it in order to delete it, so he plays it. Her voice sounds in his ear, and she simply says,

“Hey dad, I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay, and I’m home now.”

“You think he’s falling for you?” Drew asks after their stereotypical conversation of ‘how’s your love/sex/everyday life’ had been summed up.

“I doubt it,” Emily smiles into the phone.

“Everyone falls for you, even if you are a teacup human. Why d'you think he wouldn’t?”

“Teacup human?“

"Like a human. Just,” and she can practically see him as he shmooshes his hands down vertically, “-smaller.”

She laughs, and shakes her head.

“I’m emotionally greedy and my prognosis is bad. But he likes my face,” she offers up.

“We’re all emotionally greedy. And everybody likes your face,” Drew coerces another unseen smile from her.

“Tisk,” she makes a disagreeing sound. “I should go. Methinks I should give my pillow some head.”

“Alright, teacup,” Drew teases gently. “Sweet dreams, bella.”

She does a little twirl and gives a smile. She’s dressed to kill in a little black dress and a pair of black ankle-boot six inch stilettos. Her hair is smooth and silky; her make-up: immaculate.

“How do I look?” She winks.

“Delicious,” he comes up beside her and pushes her hair behind her ear. She fidgets and shakes her head, shaking the hair loose—so that it falls back in a thick dark brown veil, concealing her blush over the brief touch. “Don’t do that,” he says softly.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t hide behind your hair,” he persists and tucks her hair behind her ear again. She feels her face grow warmer still, and there is a long pause. She gets flustered and smiles nervously.

She clears her throat after the long pause, “We’re going to be late. Let’s go.” 

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Just felt like drawing my character Wounded Minotaur and his guardian spirit. The idea for the spirit’s design was a Minotaur statue that had a hammer taken to the left arm and shoulder.
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#sketch #painting #draw #instaart #creative #arte #ink #webcomics #color #sketchbook #artoftheday #paint #doodle #contemporaryart #pencil #artsy #manga #characterdesign #originalcharacter #instaartist #watercolor #video #artistic #arts #gallery #fineart #artgallery #oc #graphic #illustrator
https://www.instagram.com/p/B7guMRKHzgi/?igshid=sb73g5gd1j6d

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‘Timeless Beauty’

CREATIVE 

My theme for these pictures was ‘Timeless beauty’ for my creative class.

I’ve decided to take pictures of a friend’s grandma. Pictures of her looking at old pictures of herself in her early 20′s in a mirror, in some of the pictures a clock is visible to to remind that ‘time’ notion.

 In some of the pictures My friend is in the picture with her gran, the Idea was to show beauty no matter what age you are.

I used a small f number (wide aperture) to get as much light as possible which made a really shallow depth of field, I had ti either focus on the picture she’s holding or in her face. I really like the ones where the picture is focus and she’s out of focus but we can still see her smile.

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instagram

Made this little promo for my friend Kevin’s gaming channel.
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#creative #videoeditor #nashville #gaming #gamer #video (at Nashville, Tennessee)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B7gpBfJJise/?igshid=3u9xuodat82o

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