“Wait, wait, wait. They did what???”
#england #london #incredulousreactions (at St Pancras Church)
Edward Alexander Crowley (1875-1947) writer, mountaineer and occultist who pioneered guideless alpine accents. With Oscar Eckenstein, inventor of the crampon, Crowley was part of the first expedition up K2, in 1902. His interest in human intelligence morphed into an obsession with the occult. Considered by many to be a fraud, his behavior was often outrageous, a reputation Crowley encouraged.
Painted by Leon Engers-Kennedy 1902-1903.
#england #london #art #meditation (at National Portrait Gallery)
Bookstores inspire dreams.
#england #london #bookstore (at Daunt Books)
The future.
#spain #madrid #girlmeetsworld (at España Madrid)
Quiet amidst the noise.
#spain #madrid #citypark #peace (at Puerta del Sol Madrid)
“Ring the bells that can still ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”
Leonard Cohen
#spain #madrid #leonardcohen #findpoetryeveryday (at Madrid, Spain)
Make art to elevate the spirit.
#spain #madrid #streetart #makeart (at Puerta del Sol Madrid)
Localita.
#italy #piedmont #tinystreetsfortinycars (at Bossolasco)
A rainy Saturday morning breakfast of purple artichokes steamed in old white wine and lemon and finished in a maniacally stoked fireplace; eaten with blazing red cheeks and blackened fingertips only occasionally wiped on a frayed and tattered housedress smelling of wood smoke and garlic.
#eatlikenobodyswatching #italy #piedmont #autumn #artichokes #carciofi (at Bossolasco)
Hard pears and soft cheese.
#italy #piedmont #autumn (at Bossolasco)
Spent hazelnut orchard.
#italy #piedmont #autumn #nocciola (at Bossolasco)
Autumn’s final throes.
#italy #piedmont #autumn #nature (at Bossolasco)
Sunset over St. Magdalena Church.
#italy #piedmont #autumn #nature (at Santo Stefano Belbo)
I never tire of church bells
echoing through the valley during late afternoon walks in the fog.
With each strike of the lip,
the clapper issues a reverberation,
a reminder
of the immensity of life,
the nearness of death,
and Nature’s indifferent,
non-discriminatory
and eventual reclamation
of the entire circus.
#italy #piedmont #autumn #nature
(at Bossolasco)
Satsuma orange.
#italy #wintercitrus (at Castello Dogliani)
The hills admiring the sunset.
#italy #piedmont #autumnsky (at Bossolasco)
Italian humor.
(at Milan, Italy)
The farmer was mostly toothless, his skin pruned from the sun, the dirt of his fields permanent planted in the crevices of his hands.
His Piedmontese dialect was strong, and my grasp of classic Italian embarrassingly weak. But he was kind, proud to make it understood that his apples and onions were grown with only sunshine, rain and earth. Excitedly, he pointed to several ginormous clumps of unrecognizable mushrooms with bluish centers piled in an old wooden wine crate, their thick, fused stems spotted with the wet soils of his orchards; fungi bouquets gifted from the rains of autumn and found blossoming at the base of Piedmont’s ubiquitous hazelnut tree. The Clitocybula familia mushroom grows in groups or in keeping with the culture, en familia. The old man explained they’re best prepared simply with olive oil and salt and cooked over the fire, his dirty hands making flipping motions to emphasize technique.
I bought them all.
#italy #piedmont #mushrooms (at Piazza di Dogliani.)
Italian humor.
#italy (at Milan City - Italy)
Barolo vineyards, end of our day, end of their season.
#italy #piedmont #barolo (at Barolo Provincia di Cuneo)