Simancas (Valladolid - Castilla y León), Spain |
Sunday, May 31, 2015
Saturday, May 30, 2015
among the pine trees
Friday, May 29, 2015
a building full of history
Simancas (Valladolid - Castilla y León), Spain |
The Archive of Simancas holds and catalogs many of the historical documents that made Spain what it is today.
Thursday, May 28, 2015
General Archive of Simancas
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
medieval bridges
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
the land of clay roof tiles
Monday, May 25, 2015
Sunday, May 24, 2015
sky
Saturday, May 23, 2015
crossroads
Friday, May 22, 2015
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Monday, May 18, 2015
Sunday, May 17, 2015
nature's peace
Saturday, May 16, 2015
the earth's beauty
Friday, May 15, 2015
always flowers
Thursday, May 14, 2015
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
connect with nature
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Monday, May 11, 2015
moments...
Sunday, May 10, 2015
Happy Mother's Day!!!
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Friday, May 8, 2015
Thursday, May 7, 2015
Wednesday, May 6, 2015
The secret of the sea
Liencres (Cantabria), Spain |
“my soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.”
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (The Secret of the Sea)
Tuesday, May 5, 2015
Sonnet CXVI
Liencres (Cantabria), Spain |
SONNET CXVI
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
–William ShakespeareAdmit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Monday, May 4, 2015
The Old Man and the Sea
Sunday, May 3, 2015
Happy Mother's Day...
Saturday, May 2, 2015
Friday, May 1, 2015
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