This post is going to be a little reiterating, but today’s prompt has remind me my recent visit to the house and atelier of the Croatian sculptor Ivan Meštrović in Zagreb.
There were beautiful sculptures in bronze and stone finished into the house along with furniture made by him, and also sketches and studies of pieces for larger monuments in the garden and the atelier. It was very interesting to see all this works of art and also to see the house in which he lived since 1920 till 1942, with his beautiful dinning room and his characteristic ceramic stoves.
In the picture, a study of a hand for a large statue and a sketch for a relief in the atelier
The violoncellist, by Ivan Meštrović
I have found this nice open window with views over Zagreb (Croatia) on the Upper City. Close to it there is a statue of the poet Anton Gustav Matoš sitting in a bench looking at the panoramic of the city. You can sit at his side and enjoy de view, above all at the sunset.
The parallel waves
are drawing horizontal lines
in constant motion
a close-up view
of the old stairs
at my friend’s house
New and old columns are here
the firsts have no more than twelve years
the others have seen many centuries.
A flower found at my feet
while I was walking
Trying to find a bit of peace
Slippery and treacherous
Beautiful and wild
The river in all my dreams
This is the door of a small church from the XIV Century in Idocin (Navarre) The arches are primitive Gothic. A treasure I found in my last outing.
a bit of colour,
a sleeping snail on the path
under the hot sun.
These are the three flags fluttering in the balcony of the Government of Navarre Palace: The red one is the Navarre flag, the red and yellow one is the Spanish flag, and the blue with the tiny yellow stars one is the European flag.
Folders containing my dad’s old manuscripts from sixty years ago.
This is an ancient public laundry I found in a village I visited the last week. When there was no such thing as a running water in the houses, the women came here to wash the clothes under a roof. I was surprised to see how the villagers were keeping this site, pretty clean and by no means abandoned, despite is no longer in use. I had thought that these structures have had disappeared long time ago. Close to the Laundry there is a well and a trough. The place was nice and fresh. How many stories could tell these stones!
A slight glimpse of Spring…
I’m living inland and I ‘m permanently longing for the ocean with its open horizon, its salty smell, its breeze, The sound of its waves…
I belong to a family with several centuries of history of marine tradition. We have lots of ship’s captains among our ancestors. But my father pursued other goals, in the field of literature and journalism, and besides he had to exile from his country In eastern Europe many years ago, persecuted by the communists. So we ended settled in a city far away from the sea in a new country.
Nevertheless, the call for the open horizons is in my blood and I return to the coast whenever I can, to enjoy that unique atmosphere, watch the ships, sail, and swim, and breath the clean air at the shore while the waves wet my feet.
The picture has been taken in Bermeo, Bizkaia (Spain)
Place in the World
Last Sunday I went for a walk to the country. The landscape was magnificent: Green meadows, powerful mountains, leafy forests… But I was caught like a child by the candid beauty of the little wild daisies I found along my path.
My mom passed away a few months ago. I miss her badly. Above all these days. Here she is solving crosswords at her desk. She was always busy with something. I like this picture because it conveys the cozy and peaceful environment she created with her presence. She was the soul of the house. Now the room is empty and cold without her. There are many memories, but my soul hurts.
Here is a portrait of my mom:
Today, when I left the hospital I was going to get back home, but something make me change directions. I wandered in one-way: the one of the sunset. The light was magic. I couldn’t stop myself pursuing the light until the sun disappeared behind the mountains.
This week is letter N. It needs to start with the letter N
I experimented with light and speed to take this photo
In this foto challenge challenge, this week the topic is Letter L – Needs to start with the letter L and have at least two syllables.
I love butterflies. Some of them only would live for a week or a month. I spotted this one last summer.
A man peeks to see the moats of the city walls
A dog peeks from behind a bush
The tower of the cathedral peeks above the roofs of the old quarter.
Needs to have the letter K anywhere in the word: Duck
The subject needs to contain the letter J and be at least 6 letters long
Japanese Cherry Bossom
If you have followed my blog you probably would recognised the man in the picture. He is the accordionist who plays every day at the Castle’s square in Pamplona, my city, to collect some spare coins from the passersby and the customers of a busy café. He’s a good street musician. Plays nice melodies. He’s an immigrant, old, and jobless. Barely speaks our language. He told me with broken words and signs that he’s homeless, and he needs 10 euros a day to pay a shelter to sleep . Today was a pretty good day for him. The weather was mild and by noon he had collected already more than 9 euros. But as ever, his gaze was distant, tired and sad. Life is difficult for the street people like him.
I took this picture last year July 6th shortly after noon in Pamplona, Spain. The San Fermin Fiesta had Just began. This young man with the traditional white clothes and the red bandana, comes from the city hall square, jubilant after the proclamation of the beginning of the celebrations that will continue for a week in the city.
I don’t know his name. I only know that he is poor and he seems extremely tired. He arrives every morning to the main square of my city, chooses an empty bench and begins to play his old accordion hoping to collect some coins from the people passing by, hurrying to get to their jobs or go shopping. There are many beggars playing the accordion in my city. They are terrible. A pain for the ears. But this one is different. This one is a real musician. He plays beautifully a wide repertoire of melodies. And he remains alone and silent in his bench, in a dignified attitude, while his fingers fly over the keys of the instrument, the look lost somewhere far away, maybe trying to remember the horizons of his lost homeland.