Allen took these photos of an abandoned constructivist monument in Bulgaria. the scale of this building set to a backdrop of a snow smothered mountain range creates a very dramatic impact. i wish to also visit this beautiful place. hopefully by then it will not have been neglected so much that it would be unrepairable. i do however enjoy the building as is; lonely standing on a hill gazing at the passing of time.
op 'n stoel in 'n krit het die woorde "inquiring 'iets'" gestaan. in my kop deur my oë het ek 'dolphin' gelees. "hmm", het ek gedink, "dit klink vriendelik." TADA!!! my blog se naam... in case you were wondering.
Thursday, 11 October 2012
Timothy Allen
Allen took these photos of an abandoned constructivist monument in Bulgaria. the scale of this building set to a backdrop of a snow smothered mountain range creates a very dramatic impact. i wish to also visit this beautiful place. hopefully by then it will not have been neglected so much that it would be unrepairable. i do however enjoy the building as is; lonely standing on a hill gazing at the passing of time.
Labels:
landscape,
loneliness,
monument,
photography,
sci-fi,
snow,
spaces,
Timothy Allen
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ozymandias
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Jason DeCaires Taylor
I don't know where this guy finds the time. but his work is amazing. particularly enjoyed these photographs.
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