
u/RealVirginiaWoolf

I absolutely love the banter between Farmer Oak and the “girl”
I absolutely love the way Hardy describes Oak’s fascination with the “girl”! I love how she banters with him as she saves him from almost being suffocated! The way she playfully teases him to find her name!
This is a beautiful novel and I’m really enjoying it!🙏
Torre le las Damas- Palace of the Partal, Alhambra
Built centuries ago by the Nasrid Dynasty, the pool reflects the palace perfectly!
The “Torre le las Damas”, part of the Partal Palace, is the oldest surviving palace in the Alhambra .
The palace is named after its “portico” which is its defining feature (Partal coming from Arabic). The five arched portico opens in this beautiful pool with its towers providing beautiful views of the city below.
Beautiful gardens and mountains surround this place . Beautifully reserved. 🙏
My partner read Wuthering Heights!!!!😍
Silly rant but him reading Wuthering Heights made me soo happy! It’s NOT his genre and he read it despite having long work days and him travelling! The physical book he read is my book- gifted to me in 2012 by an aunt!
He actually enjoyed it and loved the haunting imagery and characters! We were in Haworth a few weeks back and that got him reading!
🙏
JAMAICAN (bam bam) - Hugel, Solto…The perfect song to get up and dance to! Makes me so happy!
I can’t stop dancing! 💃👏🕺👏💃🕺👏💃🕺👏💃🕺👏💃🕺👏💃🕺👏💃🕺👏
Enjoy!
A thousand years….
One of my fave Sting songs. “Brand new day” is an album I have listened to repeatedly in my younger days.
I find the song haunting. I find a strange yearning therein. A poignant longing. A declaration of unending love and devotion.
A song reimagining reincarnation- a life as a king, thief, soldier or a pilgrim with one common grounding reality- unshakeable love….longing, spirituality- a love not defined by constraints of time….
“I may be numberless, I may be innocent
I may know many things, I may be ignorant
Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands
Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands
I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times
Reborn as fortune's child to judge another's crimes
Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief
I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief
I still love you. I still want you
A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves, like galaxies in my head
On and on the mysteries unwind themselves
Eternities still unsaid
'Till you love me”
War and Peace! “The Standard of Ur”- c. 2600- 2400 BCE- The British Museum , London
The standard of Ur was excavated and found in the cemetery of Ur (modern day Iraq) by Leonardo Woolley in the 1920’s.
A hollow wooden box inlaid with shell, red limestone, and lapiz lazuli set in bitumen. The box has two sides or panels- one depicting the scene of a war and the other side depicting peace. The box was found crushed by the weight of the soil and stones. The arrangements of the inlay pieces were saved by Woolley by applying wax. Each side is divided into three registers. These two scenes refer to the two aspects of Sumerian kingsmanship- the ruler as a warrior and as a mediator between his people and the gods.
Picture 1- peace- scene of a banquet with figures being served- we see animals and porters bringing tributes and gifts.
Picture 2- war- we see a military procession- chariots , captives and the king.
The purpose of this “ box” is still debated. Woolley thought it was a standard carried on a pole but some scholars think it to be a decorative or a music box.
One of the most detailed discovery from Mesopotamia and I loved seeing this in person. Mad rush at the Museum but I tried taking a detailed picture to the best of my ability! 🙏🦋
Just two strangers….
York- a few days back. Cold wet rainy day.
I sit down outside my hotel to smoke. A woman comes sits next to me. Tall, English , strongly built!
Smiles at me and asks me what I’m smoking. We start talking and she asks me if I’m alone during my travels. I tell her I’m with my partner and she tells me her husband of 25 years passed away last year and she was travelling alone. I’m a softie. I kinda teared up…. Imagining her pain and her trials. I held her hand- just squeezed it. She had twisted fingers because of Rheumatism - I have it too! We discussed salves and things that work for us! Imagine lol!
She told me about her travels- all these beautiful places. She is a teacher like me! She lives fully honoring her husbands memory. We smoked together and I held her hand. I held her for a bit. I told her to live it up and visit all the places he wanted to go to.
She asked me if it was ok to solo travel to the Khaleej, to Istanbul and north of Pakistan. I gave her details of all my contacts who would help her stay safe and sound and take care of her travel arrangements.
This is why I travel. Looking at this world through the lens of people who are just like me- happy, scared, exploring, in need of a hug often….
I introduced her to my partner and we told her she was welcome to stay with us if she was ever in our area! Smiles, hugs, just overall goodwill. Strangers . Complete strangers who bonded over a cigarette!
Talk to people. Often , we are just looking for little pockets of happiness! 🙏🦋
🔥Highland COO-thority🐮Meet the friendliest and fluffiest border patrol in the Scottish highlands!
Lochs, mountains and rivers scattered all the way from Broadford to Elgol in the Isle of Skye , Scottish Highlands - made more scenic by these gentle coos 🐮
Don’t worry- they don’t ask for papers! They are so calm and you just stop if they come too near your vehicle- a quick look at you and they keep walking !
[Poem]My Conscience ….. Javed Jabbar
My conscience is dying a slow death every day
By Javaid jabbar
Sometimes in the dark of the night
I visit my conscience
To see if it is still breathing
For its dying a slow death
Every day.
When I pay for a meal in a fancy place
An amount which is perhaps the monthly income
Of the guard who holds the door open
And quickly I shrug away that thought
It dies a little
When I buy vegetables from the vendor
And his son "chhotu" smilingly weighs the potatoes
Chhotu, a small child, who should be studying at school
I look the other way
It dies a little.
When I am decked up in a designer dress
A dress that cost a bomb
And I see a woman at the crossing
In tatters,trying unsuccessfully to save her dignity
And I immediately roll up my window
It dies a little
When I buy expensive gifts for my children
On return, I see half clad children
With empty stomach and hungry eyes
Selling toys at red light
I try to salve my conscience by buying some, yet
It dies a little
When my sick maid sends her daughter to work
Making her bunk school
I know I should tell her to go back
But I look at the loaded sink and dirty dishes
And I tell myself that is just for a couple of days
It dies a little
When I hear about a rape
or a murder of a child,
I feel sad, yet a little thankful that it's not my child
I can not look at myself in the mirror
It dies a little
When people fight over caste creed and religion
I feel hurt and helpless
I tell myself that my country is going to the dogs
I blame the corrupt politicians
Absolving myself of all responsibilities
It dies a little
When my city is choked
Breathing is danerous in the smog ridden metropolis
I take my car to work daily
Not taking the metro,not trying car pool
One car won't make a difference, I think
It dies a little
So when in the dark of the night
I visit my conscience
And find it still breathing
I am surprised
For, with my own hands
Daily, bit by bit, I kill it, I bury it.
میرا ضمیر ہر روز آہستہ آہستہ مرتا ہے
جاوید جبار
کبھی کبھی رات کے اندھیرے میں
میں اپنے ضمیر سے ملنے جاتا ہوں
یہ دیکھنے کہ آیا وہ اب بھی سانس لے رہا ہے
کیونکہ وہ ہر روز
ایک سست موت مر رہا ہے۔
جب میں کسی مہنگی جگہ پر کھانے کا بل دیتا ہوں
ایک ایسی رقم جو شاید ماہانہ آمدنی ہے
اس چوکیدار کی جو دروازہ کھولے کھڑا رہتا ہے
اور میں جلدی سے اس خیال کو جھٹک دیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں ریڑھی والے سے سبزی خریدتا ہوں
اور اس کا بیٹا "چھوٹو" مسکراتے ہوئے آلو تولتا ہے
چھوٹو، ایک چھوٹا بچہ، جسے اسکول میں پڑھنا چاہیے
میں دوسری طرف دیکھ لیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں ڈیزائنر کپڑوں میں سج دھج کر نکلتا ہوں
ایک ایسا لباس جس پر بے تحاشا پیسہ لگا ہو
اور میں چوراہے پر ایک عورت کو دیکھتا ہوں
پھٹے پرانے کپڑوں میں، ناکام کوشش کرتے ہوئے اپنی عزت بچانے کی
اور میں فوراً اپنی گاڑی کا شیشہ چڑھا لیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں اپنے بچوں کے لیے مہنگے تحفے خریدتا ہوں
واپسی پر، میں آدھے ننگے بچوں کو دیکھتا ہوں
خالی پیٹ اور بھوکی آنکھوں کے ساتھ
لال بتی پر کھلونے بیچتے ہوئے
میں کچھ کھلونے خرید کر اپنے ضمیر کو بہلانے کی کوشش کرتا ہوں، پھر بھی
وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میری بیمار ملازمہ اپنی بیٹی کو کام پر بھیجتی ہے
اسے اسکول سے چھٹی کرا کر
میں جانتا ہوں کہ مجھے اسے واپس بھیجنا چاہیے
لیکن میں بھرے ہوئے سنک اور گندے برتنوں کو دیکھتا ہوں
اور اپنے آپ سے کہتا ہوں کہ یہ تو بس دو دن کی بات ہے
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں کسی بچی کے ساتھ زیادتی
یا قتل کے بارے میں سنتا ہوں
مجھے دکھ ہوتا ہے، پھر بھی تھوڑا سا شکر بھی کہ یہ میری بچی نہیں ہے
میں آئینے میں خود کو نہیں دیکھ پاتا
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب لوگ ذات پات اور مذہب کے نام پر لڑتے ہیں
مجھے دکھ ہوتا ہے اور بے بسی محسوس ہوتی ہے
میں خود سے کہتا ہوں کہ میرا ملک برباد ہو رہا ہے
میں بدعنوان سیاستدانوں کو الزام دیتا ہوں
خود کو تمام ذمہ داریوں سے بری کر دیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میرا شہر دم گھٹنے لگتا ہے
اس دھوئیں سے بھرے شہر میں سانس لینا خطرناک ہوتا ہے
میں روز اپنی کار پر کام پر جاتا ہوں
میٹرو نہیں لیتا، کار پول کی کوشش نہیں کرتا
ایک کار سے کیا فرق پڑے گا، میں سوچتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
تو جب رات کے اندھیرے میں
میں اپنے ضمیر سے ملنے جاتا ہوں
اور اسے اب بھی سانس لیتے ہوئے پاتا ہوں
تو مجھے حیرت ہوتی ہے
کیونکہ، اپنے ہی ہاتھوں سے
روزانہ، تھوڑا تھوڑا کر کے، میں اسے مارتا ہوں، میں اسے دفناتا ہوں۔
[Poem]My Conscience ….. Javed Jabbar
My conscience is dying a slow death every day
By Javaid jabbar
Sometimes in the dark of the night
I visit my conscience
To see if it is still breathing
For its dying a slow death
Every day.
When I pay for a meal in a fancy place
An amount which is perhaps the monthly income
Of the guard who holds the door open
And quickly I shrug away that thought
It dies a little
When I buy vegetables from the vendor
And his son "chhotu" smilingly weighs the potatoes
Chhotu, a small child, who should be studying at school
I look the other way
It dies a little.
When I am decked up in a designer dress
A dress that cost a bomb
And I see a woman at the crossing
In tatters,trying unsuccessfully to save her dignity
And I immediately roll up my window
It dies a little
When I buy expensive gifts for my children
On return, I see half clad children
With empty stomach and hungry eyes
Selling toys at red light
I try to salve my conscience by buying some, yet
It dies a little
When my sick maid sends her daughter to work
Making her bunk school
I know I should tell her to go back
But I look at the loaded sink and dirty dishes
And I tell myself that is just for a couple of days
It dies a little
When I hear about a rape
or a murder of a child,
I feel sad, yet a little thankful that it's not my child
I can not look at myself in the mirror
It dies a little
When people fight over caste creed and religion
I feel hurt and helpless
I tell myself that my country is going to the dogs
I blame the corrupt politicians
Absolving myself of all responsibilities
It dies a little
When my city is choked
Breathing is danerous in the smog ridden metropolis
I take my car to work daily
Not taking the metro,not trying car pool
One car won't make a difference, I think
It dies a little
So when in the dark of the night
I visit my conscience
And find it still breathing
I am surprised
For, with my own hands
Daily, bit by bit, I kill it, I bury it.
میرا ضمیر ہر روز آہستہ آہستہ مرتا ہے
جاوید جبار
کبھی کبھی رات کے اندھیرے میں
میں اپنے ضمیر سے ملنے جاتا ہوں
یہ دیکھنے کہ آیا وہ اب بھی سانس لے رہا ہے
کیونکہ وہ ہر روز
ایک سست موت مر رہا ہے۔
جب میں کسی مہنگی جگہ پر کھانے کا بل دیتا ہوں
ایک ایسی رقم جو شاید ماہانہ آمدنی ہے
اس چوکیدار کی جو دروازہ کھولے کھڑا رہتا ہے
اور میں جلدی سے اس خیال کو جھٹک دیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں ریڑھی والے سے سبزی خریدتا ہوں
اور اس کا بیٹا "چھوٹو" مسکراتے ہوئے آلو تولتا ہے
چھوٹو، ایک چھوٹا بچہ، جسے اسکول میں پڑھنا چاہیے
میں دوسری طرف دیکھ لیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں ڈیزائنر کپڑوں میں سج دھج کر نکلتا ہوں
ایک ایسا لباس جس پر بے تحاشا پیسہ لگا ہو
اور میں چوراہے پر ایک عورت کو دیکھتا ہوں
پھٹے پرانے کپڑوں میں، ناکام کوشش کرتے ہوئے اپنی عزت بچانے کی
اور میں فوراً اپنی گاڑی کا شیشہ چڑھا لیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں اپنے بچوں کے لیے مہنگے تحفے خریدتا ہوں
واپسی پر، میں آدھے ننگے بچوں کو دیکھتا ہوں
خالی پیٹ اور بھوکی آنکھوں کے ساتھ
لال بتی پر کھلونے بیچتے ہوئے
میں کچھ کھلونے خرید کر اپنے ضمیر کو بہلانے کی کوشش کرتا ہوں، پھر بھی
وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میری بیمار ملازمہ اپنی بیٹی کو کام پر بھیجتی ہے
اسے اسکول سے چھٹی کرا کر
میں جانتا ہوں کہ مجھے اسے واپس بھیجنا چاہیے
لیکن میں بھرے ہوئے سنک اور گندے برتنوں کو دیکھتا ہوں
اور اپنے آپ سے کہتا ہوں کہ یہ تو بس دو دن کی بات ہے
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میں کسی بچی کے ساتھ زیادتی
یا قتل کے بارے میں سنتا ہوں
مجھے دکھ ہوتا ہے، پھر بھی تھوڑا سا شکر بھی کہ یہ میری بچی نہیں ہے
میں آئینے میں خود کو نہیں دیکھ پاتا
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب لوگ ذات پات اور مذہب کے نام پر لڑتے ہیں
مجھے دکھ ہوتا ہے اور بے بسی محسوس ہوتی ہے
میں خود سے کہتا ہوں کہ میرا ملک برباد ہو رہا ہے
میں بدعنوان سیاستدانوں کو الزام دیتا ہوں
خود کو تمام ذمہ داریوں سے بری کر دیتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
جب میرا شہر دم گھٹنے لگتا ہے
اس دھوئیں سے بھرے شہر میں سانس لینا خطرناک ہوتا ہے
میں روز اپنی کار پر کام پر جاتا ہوں
میٹرو نہیں لیتا، کار پول کی کوشش نہیں کرتا
ایک کار سے کیا فرق پڑے گا، میں سوچتا ہوں
تو وہ تھوڑا سا مر جاتا ہے۔
تو جب رات کے اندھیرے میں
میں اپنے ضمیر سے ملنے جاتا ہوں
اور اسے اب بھی سانس لیتے ہوئے پاتا ہوں
تو مجھے حیرت ہوتی ہے
کیونکہ، اپنے ہی ہاتھوں سے
روزانہ، تھوڑا تھوڑا کر کے، میں اسے مارتا ہوں، میں اسے دفناتا ہوں۔
Inverness - Loch Ness monster, Macbeth, a Jacobite battlefield and of course the “coos”! 🐮
Picture the capital of the beautiful Scottish highlands-you stroll along the River Ness minding your business and suddenly you are struck by the misty skies, the castle with the realisation that Macbeth murdered Duncan in his Inverness castle (Shakespeare probably never stepped his foot here!!!). If you watch Outlander, the show heavily features the highland culture, history and legends.
Speaking of legends, none is bigger than Nessie. She has been out there for centuries, doing her thang! Think about it- she isn’t trying to scare ya or drag sailors to their doom- she is just enjoying the deep dark waters of the Loch- minding her own business sometimes coming up maybe for a blurry photo taken by a shell shocked passerby!!! Love her or hate her, she has become a mascot for Inverness!
Nessie is not the only beast of Inverness though… highland coos also give her a proper competition! Intimidating but such gentle giants- love em!
All in all , a nice little stop if you are in the highlands.
Picture 1- installation around River Ness
Pictures 2 and 3-A walk around the River ness
Pictures 4,5 and 6- Wolves at the door- common in Scottish myths and legends we see them guarding the Flemish- Baronial style Town house .
Picture 7- view of the city from the Inverness Castle.
Picture 8 and 9- the Inverness Castle
Picture 10- searching for Nessie at the Loch!
Picture 11- Coos busy eating!
🦋🙏
Rannoch Moor- Scotland’s Great wilderness and perhaps the last of its kind..
Driving around in the Scottish highlands , if you venture far off on the A82, you come across peat bogs, lochans and heather sitting on a plateau that stretches forever-no villages, no fences- just water, rock and sky doing whatever they want!
This is the Rannoch Moor- perhaps one of the last great wildernesses of our planet.
Rannoch Moor sits on solid granite which means all that rain water never gets soaks but just pools away-that’s its whole story really. At the end of the last Ice Age, this spot was the center of a vast ice cap covering western Scotland, in places over 400 metres thick. As the ice ground across the granite for thousands of years, it scoured out the hollows that are now the moor’s hundreds of lochs and lochans.
Robert Louis Stevenson’s Kidnapped features the highlands heavily and describe the Moors through David Balfour’s eyes as “a weary, endless desert”.
The peat here is so deep and unstable that building anything here is nothing short of an engineering marvel. In the 1890’s when engineers were building a railway track, they simply had to “float” it on tree roots, earth and ash just packed enough to carry the load of a train!!!! That train still runs - Corrour- one of the most remote stations in the world and that’s what we saw in “Trainspotting”!
I was right in the Loch Linnhe and used A82, which skirts the moor’s western edge on its way to Glen Coe and Fort William en route Isle of Skye.
It’s the only place in the country where the Rannoch-rush grows, and scattered remnants of Scots pine still stand as leftovers of the ancient Caledonian Forest that once covered much of the Highlands.
It is a magnet for filmmakers too — scenes from Outlander and Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 1 were shot here, drawn in by scenery that needs no prep!
You stand here and marvel at the beauty or its history or the fact that it’s one of the few places left where you can stand in Scotland and see almost nothing built by human hands in any direction. The scenery changes very hour in every weather!
Put it in your itinerary if you visit the highlands🙏🦋
Loch Lomond- Scotland’s moodiest lake!🦋
Loch Lomond is Loch Ness’ older moodier, more mysterious sibling with actual documented mysteries!
Since I was young gal, my nan took me to Loch Lomond to swim for “good luck”- telling me stories of the kelpies and the islands with monks and nunneries around it.
Lomond was our family fave - vacations were planned sound it and when I left the nest, I chose to study at Glasgow because Lomond is a short drive away and I could drive whenever I wanted and remember nan and all her stories - like a warm hug .
Lomond is the largest lake in the uk by surface area. Its monsters are all lurking under its dark waters. There are waves with no winds giving rise to is seismic tremors reasoning for its waves.
Home to 30 islands which hosted monks, churches, castles, nunneries and even nudist colonies. Inchtavannach (“Monk’s Island”) is said to be where St. Kessog based his mission in the 6th century, before being martyred nearby.
My first time visiting with my partner this year. We swam our hearts out and just sat absorbing its misty vibes… the waters, the clouds, the mountains and all its islands and legends!
If you visit, stay in Balloch if u like late night vibes. If you want a nice romantic hiking or lake swim vibes, stay in Balmaha. We stayed in Oak Tree Inn cottages , Balmaha. You can even choose luxury pods- quiet and calm with excellent forest vibes and views right on Lomond.
Pictures can’t do justice to the beauty of this lake.
Olive Trees, 1889 (oil on canvas)
Oh Van G! I had the absolute privilege to stand in front of this today and admire this utter masterpiece at the Scottish National Gallery, Edinburgh.
This is one of a series of canvasses of olive trees which Van G painted while at the asylum at Saint -Remý in Provence. For him, the olive tree symbolized the region, as well as being associated with the story of Christ’s passion.
Van G’s technique is highly expressive, much of the pigment directly applied from the paint tube (yes, I was actually listening!). The swirling strokes (impasto) generate a feeling of agitation , compounded by the deeply steeping slope.
I feel this painting carries such a restless energy. The tress writhe, pulse and are almost feverish. They show his own state of mind. The whole landscape is alive with tension! Van G also wrote about the olive trees to his brother about how much he loved olive trees. You see real tenderness, turmoil and agitation in this painting.
I’m elated I saw this today. 🙏
Yes I lost my composure at the Jane Austen Centre in Bath!!🤪
One of the reasons I am in Bath, England, besides soaking in those thermal springs, is Jane Austen and her works… I wish I was more dignified than enthusiastic when I ventured out to the Gay street in Bath (that’s the actual street name) where the Jane Austen centre is located.
A gentlemen in full Regency dressing stood outside the Centre and I have no qualms in admitting that I curtsied at him!!! With full zeal and feeling very lady like! He was not surprised at all- I am sure he has seen far worst than me!
I first started from the quaint little gift shop! My partner made sure I got every merch that said “obstinate headstrong girl”- no fiction here! If I didn’t have to fly back home eventually at the end of my trip (which has just started), I would have just purchased one of every book, every tote bag, every notebook, ink, quills, teapots, jewellery etc etc etc! Yes I did lose the plot a bit!
Now the actual tour! A lively gentleman in full Regency clothing greeted our group and introduced himself as Mr Woodhouse. Delightful man really! Started with Jane’s family tree and spoke about her inspiration and short life. I was fascinated by her portraits and the details around her life in Bath. We were then led to the Regency Tea Room where I completely felt like Jane herself!
We also wrote letters in a room with actual
Ink and quills in Jane’s study! The most fun we had was dressing up and having our pictures taken! It’s a story for another day how I convinced my partner to dress up and act as Mr. Darcy! I was helped in this by Mr Woodhouse because I did answer some questions correctly during his discussions on Jane and he did stay with us quite a bit… he was the one taking our pictures when we were dressed up- and yes I wore lace and hats and held a fan too!!!! And no- those pictures will not ever be on Reddit!
All in all- what fun! Theatrical! Educational. Most of all- a fond way to remember Austen herself. I mean imagine if I could drag my folks who have ZERO interest in Austen’s work and if they enjoyed it- these guys must be doing something right!!!
Do visit if you are ever in Bath. Sorry for my excited babbling! 🦋🤪🙏
Happy fourth Birthday to my Leo boy!
Mango is four years old today!
Born in the toy room in my house between Woody and Buzz lightyear!!! My fave of the litter! He has travelled with me… my constant companion and the apple of my eyes!! Affectionate when he wants to be! Talks constantly! Sleeps on me and lets me know what he wants! I love my bond with him…. Hard to explain how I will always need him more than he needs me! He is a goofball who plays with anything!
Happiest birthday, Mango. Mama loves ya!
Edit- he is a Leo sun - his name is MANGO!
Look what I found in my old photos! Ozzy’s star!🌟🖤
2019 summers - Hollywood walk of fame , LA! Flocked to Ozzy’s star!
🖤
Rest in power our Prince of Darkness🖤
There will never ever be another Ozzy.
How can anyone else be that raw, strange, unforgettable? That raw genius, that haunting quality to spit out hits that resonate with people even today- Young and old alike. Timeless.
What can I write about a man whose music has been a source of comfort to me growing up and even now? How can I pay tribute to someone whose last act of kindness was to sing one more time before he finally left us for good?
Chaotic. Self destructive. Achingly human! A true Sagittarius (I’m biased because I’m one too!). Biting heads of bats , stumbling through addiction, unravelling yet remaining human despite all his flaws in full public view….
And that voice! That nasal wail! That vulnerability! That unmistakable voice- fragile yet so so powerful!like a siren!
One year since he is gone! A few days before he passed away, for some reason I just kept listening to “crazy train” over and over and over. Changed all my pfps on socials to his picture. I guess my heart knew💔
Ozzy, I’m just one of kajillions who love ya and your music. Rest in power! I will love you and listen to your music forever! 🖤
Here we go!
Of late, I have commented a bit on Reddit as to how my favorite Charles Dickens book is “Great Expectations ”.
I found two prints on my shelf and I am gonna read it together with my partner. Nothing like the feeling of physical books . 🙏
What do you guys think of this one? Fave character? Fave story arch?