Wooden Ships
Self Portrait
Fire and Ice
The Window Lady
The Right Stuff
Michael the Unready
Oh Captain! My Captain!
The Long Day's Journey into Night
Male Enhancement
Sanctuary of Athena Pronaia
Summer Foliage
Siesta is Over
Late Summer Palette
Faygo Boy
Twice Bitten
A Gift of Tongues
Late Autumn Palette II
The Sweet Taste of Freedom
Glories we have Known IV
Rock Steady
Straddlers in Sepia
Straddlers
Enigma
Taking a Moment to Remember...
It's Only Rock n' Roll...
Old Friends - the Return of Fitted Jeans
Rebel Music
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
Beauty is Everywhere
New Reflection
Local Fauna
Solar Honey
The Seeding
Late Autumn Palette
Wounded Soldiers
The World is Not Enough
Purple Haze
Frank was a Contemplator
Autumn Pallete
Summer Sweat II
¡Viva España!
Paused
Arriving Team
Blushing Flowers
Location, Location, Location
Sweet Bird of Youth II
Ethnic festival - June, 2010
(Please view in larger sizes for best effect)
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night,
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard:
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow,
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence.
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 12
(Please view in larger sizes for best effect)
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night,
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard:
Then of thy beauty do I question make
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow,
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed to brave him, when he takes thee hence.
William Shakespeare - Sonnet 12
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