Cool Only Your Test images

A few nice only your test images I found:

current palettes
only your test
Image by Julie Paradise1
why so many colours? well, they accumulated over times, a holiday here, some money there, a sale and a gift and the neverending search for the perfect colour.

now I would say that no one needs so many colours, but to make the best out of it and to use them all it seemed best to sort them all in palettes, in thought over and well balanced palettes that are usable as they are.

what does it bring? rotating and rethinking the palettes every once in a while has taught me mixing and getting to certain colours from various starting points. it can be amazing how differently you can achieve shadows or greens or moods with about everything you see here. (I am still no friend of pre-packed palettes as there are some colours I will never like and there just not use.)

I have sworn that once some of them will be empty I will not refill them or stock up again as time will show which colours I really and alway like to use for various purposes. no one needs THAT MANY colours 😉

warum soviele farben? hmnja, es sammelt sich eben soviel an mit der zeit, rabatte, gutscheine, unverhoffter geldsegen hier, ein geschenk da … aber letztlich braucht eigentlich doch niemand soviele farben, das gebe ich hiermit offiziell zu.

was nun aber tun damit, denn herumliegen lassen wäre bei aquarellfarben zwar grundsätzlich möglich aber doch zu schade. ich habe mich vor einer weile dazu entschlossen, aus allen farben sets zu erstellen, für verschiedene zwecke und gelegenheiten, alle paletten sollten in sich selbst halbwegs vollstandig sein, "coloristisch sinnvoll" (so heißt es immer im schmincke-katalog).

was bringt mir das? ich wechsle die paletten alle paar tage bzw. nutze manche eher für unterwegs oder meine skizzen und andere für "richtig ernsthafte" bilder. die jeweils verschiedene auswahl an farben bringt / zwingt mich dazu, aus unterschiedlichen ausgangsfarben ähnliche ergebnisse zu ermischen, einige paletten enthalten zum beispiel kein grün (rechts unten), andere beinahe alle meiner lieblingsfarben, manche keine davon und sie "funktionieren" trotzdem. durch das rotieren lerne ich nach und nach alle farben kennen und manche sogar noch lieben, die ich eigentlich bereits abgeschrieben hatte. das erreicht man natürlich nicht, wenn man die farben gar nicht zur verfügung hat. mir hat es also sehr geholfen — und wahnsinnig viel spaß gemacht in diesen farbmassen zu schwelgen — dennoch habe ich mir vorgenommen, einige der paletten nicht aufzufüllen wenn sie leer sind bzw. manche der farben nicht nachzukaufen. mit der zeit wird sich zeigen, was ich wirklich benutze. soviele farben braucht also kein mensch, aber schön ist es trotzdem mit ihnen. 😉

Brooklyn Home Office, Minimized, At Night
only your test
Image by mkosut
I’ve spent the past few months figuring out how to scale down many of the things i don’t need and keeping my home office very minimal. That included ditching the large 30" apple cinema display (it blocked my view out the windows!) and going back to a simple laptop with two headless servers (on old G5 osx server pictured, and one ubuntu dual core 2.8ghz hp proliant server hidden behind the desk)

I’ve hidden my speakers behind the desk and stream via an airport express station to minimize cord plugins. The two cables visible below the desk have been hidden (ethernet for the osx server and some other cable) didn’t see them in the photo til it was too late.

I’ve purchased an all-in-one scanner/printer that fits comfortably in the sliding glass door cabinet for easy access.

My old and faithful aeron chair finally made it’s return home from vermont. Thank you for the gift adam, it’s lasted me years!

For white board drawings, i use dry erase markers on the glass windows. I make sure i don’t write any sensitive data on them as they’re clearly visible from the street 🙂

This provides maximum desk space to work with while not being distracted. i work from home occasionally (i’m a senior linux systems engineer for mtv networks/viacom) so i wanted someplace enjoyable to work without losing focus on my tasks.

I didn’t have any stones to put in the vase for the flower, so i ended up using all the silver change i could find. This works great because it looks interesting, but also makes it easy to ditch extra pocket change into it conveniently. No pennies allowed!


Bristol Cinema Then & Now – The Kings, Old Market
only your test
Image by brizzle born and bred
The King’s Cinema in Old Market, Bristol BS2, once one of the city’s stalwart picture houses which after 70 years, made way for yet another office block? – in its declining years it was home to sleazy sex films and horror movies and dirty old men in rain coats just like The Tattler round the corner.

image top left: British Electric Theatres owned this small cinema, which was originally called King’s Hall. It was built on the site of a cemetery, between Old Market Street and Redcross Street, and when it was demolished, bones from the cemetery were discovered and removed. It was British Electric Theatres who put a test case for Sunday opening in 1910. The inspector went to another cinema, saw some nudity and a scene in which a vicar kissed a woman and promptly objected. The case was refused.

After the First World War, Ralph Bromhead, who was later a leading light in the Gaumont empire, took over the King’s and changed it beyond recognition. He purchased the shop next door and gave the building a new frontage, with a wide foyer and low canopy outside. Inside, the balcony area was decorated with ornate brasswork. In order to obtain planning permission, Bromhead had to employ fifty demobilised men as labourers. The work took less than a year and cost £15,000.

The King’s reopened in 1921 and became a landmark in Old Market Street.

The cinema suffered a fire in 1926 but soon reopened with new owners, Enrico Carreras and his son James. They had their own orchestra, the King’s Symphony Orchestra, consisting of twelve musicians. The orchestra played twice a day every day and were paid £68 per week between them, which was better than most musicians were paid at that time.

The King’s cinema’s biggest competitor was the Regent in nearby Castle Street. A gimmick was needed to put the King’s in front, so they took a gamble and tried the talkies. They were the first in Bristol to do this and changed the face of Bristol cinema for ever. In March 1929, they opened with the film The Singing Fool, starring Al Jolson.

The queues went all the way up Old Market Street and they packed in four performances a day for five weeks. They counted 50,000 admissions in the first two weeks, figures unheard of before. It was the end for silent films.

By the end of the 1930s, the ABC Group, under John Maxwell, had taken over the cinema and it continued to be popular. It survived the Second World War but the surrounding area and, following the redevelopment of the area and the building of the new road system, the cinema became isolated. It closed on 4 December 1976 with a double bill of Hot Dreams and Man Hungry.

image top right: c1968 The construction of the roundabout and pedestrian walkway system, in the 1960s. The Stag and Hounds is now the first building on the right. Note left of photograph: The King’s Cinema.

image bottom left: The cinema stood empty for a while, and was demolished in December 1981 for an office block named King’s House to be built on the site, located on the corner of Old Market Street and Bond Street at Old Market Roundabout.

image bottom right: "Yet another office block, just what Bristol needs?"

The Sad Decline of Bristol Cinema

The years after 1945 were hard for Britain. The country was in debt after the strain of war, and there was a severe housing shortage. Both of these factors affected cinema business.

The Entertainment Tax, which was added to the price of a cinema ticket, was raised. It was nearly 47% on the price of an expensive seat. At this rate people could not afford to keep up the twice-a-week habit of pre-war years. Smaller audiences meant that owners had to keep putting up the prices to make any profit.

Building materials, money and labour were channelled into house-building. This meant that very little was available for building new cinemas or even repairing old ones. No new cinemas were built in Britain until 1954. Old ones became increasingly scruffy.

Slum clearance and rebuilding programmes left many inner-city cinemas without a local audience.

From August 1947 to March 1948 US film distributors boycotted Britain because the government proposed putting a high import duty on imported films. Robbed of Hollywood films, British cinemas had to fall back on old copies and poor quality films. Cinema audiences never recovered.

There were only 15,000 television sets in Britain in 1945, but by 1955, when commercial television started, there were 5 million. By 1961 there were 11 million sets and cinema admissions had fallen by 75%.

All these factors together meant that cinemas were not able to compete very well with television. Who would want to go out to a cold, draughty cinema, with decor that had not been painted or repaired since the 1930’s, and pay prices that had risen much faster than inflation, when television could entertain you more cheaply in the warmth of your own fireside every night?

Filmmakers tried to fight back by taking on techniques that could not be copied on TV. 3-D films appeared, requiring the use of special projectors, screens and expensive glasses. It was a short-lasting gimmick. Cinemascope brought wide-screen ‘epics’ that only big cinemas could manage to show effectively. Some new cinemas were built, usually on the same lines as 1930’s cinemas. Some older houses tried to catch a paying audience by showing soft porn films which could not be shown on TV.

Cinema owners were sometimes slow to see that times had changed. The chain system, in which all the cinemas in a particular company would show the same film in the same week might have saved some money in distribution costs. However, the result was that the new car-owning public, perhaps wanting a change from TV and willing to drive across town to see a film, were faced with less choice than there could have been. Only later did owners think of splitting large cinemas up into two, or even three separate, smaller cinemas, thereby offering more choice and cutting running costs.

The rise of video hire in the 1980’s was a further blow to the cinema. At the lowest point, about 1985, there were less than 1,000 cinemas open in Britain.

What happened to the cinemas?

The two most common fates of old cinemas were demolition or bingo. The bingo craze started in 1961 and turning cinemas into bingo halls at least kept them more or less intact. The other fates of old cinemas are too many to list. They have become shops, carpet warehouses, chapels, bowling alleys, temples, even car showrooms.

Then & Now

Two photographs depicting the same view, one taken a period of time after the other, give us an instantaneous impression of ‘ then ‘ and ‘now ‘. Some comparisons show old views that are instantly recognisable, where the natural passage of time and technology has made only slight changes.

Other views illustrate major change and it can be difficult to comprehend that an area has altered so much. Unless you have lived through a change and can remember what was there before, there is often no reason to question what building was replaced or how the area functioned in the past.

Nice Only Your Test photos

Check out these only your test images:

Chicken, Ham and Leek Pie, with Mash
only your test
Image by Wootang01
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.

Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80’s and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.

Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.

Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul’s is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer – couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I’ll test for next time.

Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch – the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn’t seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!

Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one’s eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.

My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey – on sale, of course – for good measure.

I’m sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I’ve been verily impressed with what I’ve seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace – his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.

For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold – 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I’ve had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.

Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket – if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That’s how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.

The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating – the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.

At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned – China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one’s mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!

We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn’t as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.

I celebrated Jesus’ resurrection at the St. Andrew’s Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that’s what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 – what is that to you?

Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that’s Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde’s Wherry, I’ve had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.

I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp’s DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.

My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history – the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering – and photographing – into every nook and cranny.

There are no rubbish bins, yet I’ve seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white – the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.

People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.

I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.

Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city’s love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.

Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.

I’m nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.

Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba – repeated in clever variants – and parodies of other masters’ works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson – I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.

I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.

Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge – for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.

I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn’t dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we’ve grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere – London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn’t add up for me.

I’m in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.

Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street – yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle – they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!

Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air – fantastic! Taliban beware!

I’m leaving on a jet plane this evening; don’t know when I’ll be back in England again. I’ll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I’m grateful for God’s many blessings on this trip.

On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley’s home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine – I’m happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.

John Wesley’s home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display – I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.

I found Samuel Johnson’s house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.

There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!

I regretfully couldn’t stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen’s take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.

I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies – I got no game – booyah!

Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn’t make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.

At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.

That’s all for England!

Cool Only Your Test images

A few nice only your test images I found:

On the road, from Roswell to Riverside – Apr 1992, #1
only your test
Image by Ed Yourdon
After I had seen everything I wanted to see in Roswell, I hit the road again — and started driving west towards California, which is the direction that my family took when moving from Roswell to Riverside, CA in the spring of 1954.

We drove through the Alamagordo site of various missile tests, not too far from where the original atomic bomb test had taken place in the 1940s.

This photo was taken about 50 miles west of Socorro, NM — between the towns of Magdalena and Datil. You’ve probably never heard of those towns, but it’s also in the general vicinity, on the Plains of St. Augustin, of the Very Large Array (VLA) radio astronomy observatory. Of course, the VLA wasn’t here when we drove through this area in 1954: its construction did not begin until 1973, and it was formally inaugurated in 1980.

I know you’re thinking to yourself, "Where have I seen those VLA radar dishes before?" (There are 27 of them, in case you wondered, and each one weighs 209 metric tons.)

The answer, of course, is Contact — the 1997 movie starring Jodie Foster and Matthew McConaughey. (Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the movie. Shame, shame! Go buy it or rent it or stream it right now. Here’s the URL to learn more about the movie: )

As for the VLA, you can read more about it in this Wikipedia article:


Most of the photos in this album were taken nearly 40 years after we first moved to Roswell, as part of some research that I was doing for a novel called Do-Overs, the beginning of which can be found here on my website

and the relevant chapter (concerning Roswell) can be found here:

Before I get into the details, let me make a strong request — if you’re looking at these photos, and if you are getting any enjoyment at all of this brief look at some mundane Americana from 60+ years ago: find a similar episode in your own life, and write it down. Gather the pictures, clean them up, and upload them somewhere on the Internet where they can be found. Trust me: there will come a day when the only person on the planet who actually experienced those events is you. Your own memories may be fuzzy and incomplete; but they will be invaluable to your friends and family members, and to many generations of your descendants.

So, what do I remember about the year that I spent in Roswell? Not much at the moment, though I’m sure more details will occur to me in the days to come — and I’ll add them to these notes, along with additional photos that I’m tweaking and editing now (including some of the drive from Roswell to Riverside, CA where our family moved next), as well as some “real” contemporaneous photos I’ve found in family scrapbooks.

For now, here is a random list of things I remember:

1. I discovered roller skates while I lived here — perhaps aided by the presence of nice, smooth, wide sidewalks throughout this whole area of town. Sometimes my mother sent me on a small shopping expedition to the local grocery store, about two blocks away, to buy a quart of milk or a couple of other minor things. The shorts that I wore had no pockets (I have no idea why), so I put the coins that my mother gave me into my mouth, for safekeeping. That way, I had both hands free in case I tripped and fell … but if I had done so, I probably would have swallowed the coins.

2. For Christmas that year (i.e., Christmas of 1953), I was given a .22-caliber rifle. Even today, it would cause only a shrug in many rural parts of the U.S.; and it was certainly unremarkable in the 1950s. My dad felt that every boy should have a rifle, and should learn how to shoot it, clean it, and take care of it in a responsible fashion. I think his intention was to take me out into the open area outside of Roswell, to shoot at rabbits or gophers; but we ended up shooting at cans and bottles in the local dump.

3. In 1953, Roswell had not acquired any fame or attention for its proximity to the alleged alien landing in 1947. Trust me: if there had been even a hint of a rumor, the young kids in that town would have heard about it. Whatever may (or may not) have happened there . If you have no idea what this is all about, take a look at

4. For young boys, it was great sport to shoot at moving creatures. Dogs and cats were considered off-limits; and as implied above, we were not allowed to wander the streets with a .22 rifle. But we all had slingshots, and there were an infinite number of lizards in the area. Unfortunately, lizard were far too quick to hit with a relatively inaccurate slingshot (especially if shot with an unevenly-shaped rock; and it was only a year later, in California, that I began shooting marbles). Our greatest success was actually with slower creatures: horned toads, usually referred to as “horny toads,” or just “horns.” Indeed, they were slow enough that you could capture them with bare hands. You probably have no idea what I’m talking about, so take a look at this National Geographic article:

123/365 Deaf awareness week
only your test
Image by clogsilk

This week is Deaf Awareness week. In the UK there are almost 9 million deaf and hard of hearing adults of which nearly 7 million are severely or profoundly deaf.

1 in 1000 children are deaf at the age of 3 and currently there are around 20,000 children who are moderately to profoundly deaf covering the ages of 0-15 years old. Only 12,000 of these children were born deaf.

It is important to raise awareness, never underestimate how being Deaf can affect somebody’s life. Just learning the alphabet in sign language, or learning how to speak clearly, facing the person you are speaking to, can make a huge difference. Being patient, innovative and calm also helps.

The NDCS have announced that the theme for this year’s Deaf Awareness week is "Look at Me".

"This theme aims to improve understanding of deafness by highlighting the range methods of communication methods used by deaf children, such as sign language and lip reading."

The RNID provide a completely confidential "Check your hearing" test. Give it a go, it may be the best thing you did. See

For more information about what you can do to help Deaf people, or where to go if you’re worried about your hearing, see the following links:

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Some cool only your test images:

Tangled up in blue
only your test
Image by Rob de Vries,
Hello out there..

I got tagged, as they call it. On Internet one has an avatar, and mostly not for nothing. Now people started a game asking one to remove the veil as much as one dares. It is like the old game of Play Tag, so, "being it" I must tag some other recluse, who is undoubtedly going to kill me, so I picked someone who could only do so by using a bomb-letter.
Here comes my nineteenth nervousbreakdown, as Mr Jagger once said.

1. I was born in januari 1941, at about 01.30, after six month of marriage of my Christian born parents, weighing remarkably much for a premature. Nothing I could do about it and I did not question my name, Robert, in contrast to the rest of the family, who were trying to figure out who this Robert must have been in the past of my rather Victorian mother. No Faith was mentioned after that, the families’ reaction on the issue had not amused her.
My little sister, who could count, reveiled me the situation afterwards, when I was about 30.
I am maybe a little naive.

2. My first four years I lived happily with my parents, while the outside world was in flames. We lived in Deventer, which had two bridges, an attractive target for the Allies. There were no Smart Bombs then.
We moved to the centre in november 1944; the next day our old house was bombed, killing some collaborators, but not me. Our new house had shelter, I still remember the faces of the people hiding in our big cellar during the raids.
I knew what happened, I am not thát naive.

3. My kindergarten-teacher describes me as an intelligent kid, living in his own phantasyworld, sensitive, very honest, with a veil that could be seldomly lifted, difficult for himself and others, very exstatic at times, with a good sense of humour. I drew and painted a lot and had a keen interest in learning.
I was a little naive too.

4: After the usual quiet years before adolescense I went to secondary school, where, besides learning some languages, I got in touch with chemistry and became an Alchimist.
My father being a medical doctor, I could get almost everything I wanted with his prescription papers. Very fortunate. I had a lot of luck, nearly blowing myself up a couple of times, after which my parents asked me kindly to do other experiments. I did not, I was somewhat naive in those days.
I also met my Partner for Life. It was 1959. And I started with photography, and loved details and composition.

5: I was called into militairy service in 1960. The army and me did not quite match, as I had learned to reason at home and at school. My primary question was "Why?", not always acceptable for my superiors. I was kicked off from officerstraining after three month, under suspicion of sabotage. I was removed to an open prisoncamp for the rest of my service, wich tested my sense of humour somewhat.
But then, I always wàs a bit naive
I also got to be an Anarchist, theoretical, fundamental, not aggressive.
I kept painting and drawing and was interested in explosives. Photography was out of the question.

6: As my teacher found me a bit too impulsive and sloppy to study Chemistry, and my request for the Academy of Art bounced because of a Lacking Future (my father thought), I went to the University of Groningen to study Law, the idea being that that was easy and I could find out what I wanted. It was 1962. I had no ambition at all.
I got into a students-house in a starters-room of about 3x3m, without natural light fortunately, so I made it my Workplace and Darkroom too. My Other Half joined me there a year later. It was quite cosy. Later we moved into better rooms, but the 3×3 stayed as a darkroom.
She was a teacher, and combining students-hours with her job was rather tiring. I also made it a point to wake her up enthousiasticaly in the middle of the night with a new product.
Call me naive. We got married in 1967.

7: I became infatuated with the 60-ies more and more. I also got more interested in people than in black characters on white paper. My final degrees were in Penal Law, Criminology and Forensic Psychiatry.
I tried to continue my studies in criminology or the deeper parts of crime. I DID get to teaching Law and Social science at a secondary school.
Being anarchist by heart, I had my own way with my pupils, and my "dialogues" with my director and other colleges were considered to be a bit provoking, so, in spite of having delivered good grades to my pupil-friends I was removed, for doing my best, for the second time.
I felt naïve for the first time and went hopping mad.

8: Realizing that if I had these troubles in the relatively safe surroundings of an educational institute, I would meet the same people elsewhere, and being quite recalcitrant, I decided to go to the Academy of Art. This upset my Other Half because she had expected something quite different, and she left.
I left, that is, because the little house I had taken over for her from a squatting junk made her cry. Couldn’t have that happen.
The only fight we had dividing the stuff was over a Dylan-record (Subterrenean Homesick Blues) We have it double now.
I understood her perfectly too. Wished her well. Naive ass.

9: So I went to paint and took pictures, even professionally for a time, but my love for experiment and New Ways did not always lead to acceptable images at the times it counted.
I once screwed up a Wedding-job because I found a new developer and film that should work better. But of course it did not. Fortunately the marriage turned sour too, quickly.
I left the Academy in 1978.
I earned my money as a teacher, but every single job blew up for the same reasons as the first one.
Finally, in 1982, I ended up, at an Institute that accepted my ways, as an advisor in Art at primary schools.
My very first class consisted of pupils of 6 years old, whom I presented with a lesson about dots and lines, realizing halfway my introduction, that I looked at a lot of blank faces. I got quite warm.
To my surprise they took to drawing like wild animals, and I was presented, accompanied by a lot of proud grins, with 20 drawings of a very sweaty teacher, droplets all over the place.
That tought me not to be so naive.

10: The divorce went as wrong as the marriage, so we lived apart together for a long time. My Other Half loved travelling to far away places, while I see cutting off a corner in the wood as Adventure.
In the beginning she went on her own, Iran, Pakistan, India, Afghanistan. Later she tricked me into coming with her. I went as far as India, Nepal, Malawi and Tibet. Morocco came last.
I liked it all.
We bought the house I squatted in and started living together again. With a good workplace. It was then I bought a computer.
Can’t escape being naive.

11. The first Gulf War began and I went bonkers when the bombing started. I looked with horror, got bombed myself again.
Difficult times followed: depressions, manic periodes, hallicunations.
Lost my official job but stayed at the Institute as graphic designer, being payed partly by the Ministery of Health, partly by the Institute. In these times I got to Nepal and Tibet. It was difficult but comforting.
The mentality of the Nepalese and Tibetans and the principles of Buddhism were a lot like what I saw in my "Dreams". After 12 years or so, it all got better and better. I learned a hell of a lot during this period. Maybe not so naive anymore.

12: Then some old friend gave me the gift of Flickr. I like it a lot, it challenges me to no end and I am very fond of the comments and discussions. My Alchemists soul rejoyces in photo-editing.
I can feel my work gets better by observing and weighing the work and comments other people make. It inspires me, in short.
So: if you are still awake, thank you for your interest and comments. And your pictures.
If you want my unprotected face: I look remarkably like my buddy-icon (~_*)

横批:后果自负 || No parking
only your test
Image by _Ardu_
A funny couplet which is not representing any best blessing whereas it is only a WARNING: no parking in front the door. Because the ecnomic develops and the government encourages people to buy the cars in order to stimulate domestic demand, more and more cars appear. The side effect has gradually shown up: no parking area. Someone might take every little piece space to park without considering whether the location is allowing parking. It has a rumor Xiamen is going to restrict releasing the license of car. Someone has started panic asking me why I don’t buy a car after passing the driving test and having the driving license. Reason is simple: without buying a car, I only have a concern that is the license, but if I buy a car, I have several concerns: where to parl, money to run the car including gasoline, parking expense, some other regular expense, probably some small accidents… Of course, someone will argue you might extend your circle of live, yes, but now I am fine. Let me be a small frog in the well. Not yet time to jump out.

poor sweet prince
only your test
Image by praline3001
Prince is a 3-4 month old terrified boy. He isn’t feral as he bonds quickly to people but he is TERRIFIED. He was found at an Exxon station and God only knows what happened to this boy before he was rescued. He needs a very special person to love him. He rubs against me, climbs in my lap and wants me to scratch this ears. He needs a quiet non threatening home that is dog free. You will have to earn this boy’s love but when you do you will never regret it! I am half in love already. Best LAP CAT EVER

All kittens are vaccinated, wormed, microchipped and spayed/neutered prior to adoption. Also included is blood test for FELLUK and FIV as well as flea prevention. Adoption fee is for 1 or 0 for 2. If you are interested in adopting please fill out an online application here :

Cool Only Your Test images

Check out these only your test images:

Red Jaguar XK140
only your test
Image by pedrosimoes7
Cascais. Portugal

in Wikipedia

The Jaguar XK120 was a sports car manufactured by Jaguar between 1948 and 1954. It was the first post-war sports car from the marque, succeeding the SS 100 which ended production in 1940 with the start of the war in Britain. The XK120 was launched at the 1948 London Motor Show as a test bed and show vehicle to highlight the new Jaguar XK engine. The car caused a sensation, which persuaded William Lyons to put it into production as a standard model.
The first cars manufactured in 1948 and 1949 had hand built aluminum bodies on an ash frame. Jaguar built 240 of these alloy bodied cars prior to moving to a more mass production XK120 in order to meet the demand for this popular model. With the 1950 model year a production version had a steel pressed body with alloy doors, bonnet, and trunk skin. Other features included torsion bar front suspension, and a removable windscreen.
Power came from a dual overhead cam 3.4 L straight-6 engine, Jaguar’s famous XK engine. With an alloy cylinder head and twin side draft SU carburators, the XK engine was very advanced for a mass produced unit, developing 160 bhp with the standard 8:1 compression ratio. This same basic design of the XK engine was used in 3.8L and 4.2L versions into the late 1980s.
The XK120 name referred to the vehicle’s impressive 120 mph (193 km/h) top speed – even faster with the windscreen removed – and at the time of its launch it was the world’s fastest standard production car[1]. It was available as a coupe (FHC or Fixed Head Coupe, introduced in 1951), convertible (DHC or Drop Head Coupe, 1953), or the original roadster (OTS or Open Two Seater). An XK120 FHC can claim the only import win in NASCAR when it won NASCAR’s first road race at Linden Airport, New Jersey, June 13th, 1954 with Al Keller at the wheel. Earlier in the year, on 31 January / 1 February, an XK120 Coupe driven by Mrs D Anderson, Chas Swinburne and Bill Pitt had won the first 24 hour car race to be held in Australia, the 1954 Mt. Druitt 24 Hours Road Race.
The Roadster had a very light weight canvas top and removable side curtains screwed to the doors, which had no external handle – to open them you reached through the screen to pull a cord on the inside. It also had a removeable windscreen, which could be removed so that "aeroscreens" could be fitted. The DHC or Drop Head Coupe had a padded top and roll up windows. Both the FHC and DHC had an elegant wood veneer dash, whereas the roadster’s was leather. All models were manufactured with spats to cover the back wheel arch which enhanced the streamlined look, but when optional (from 1951) wire wheels were fitted, the spats had to be removed to make room for the hub spinners. There was also an M version (called SE for Special Equipment in England) which included increased power, stiffer suspension, dual exhaust, and wire wheels.

Well done. Interesting note, I only created this test to watch test subjects fail and you didn’t.
only your test
Image by eldeeem
You must be very, very proud. I’m building the world’s smallest trophy for you.


Well that was fun. I’ll post an overall photo tomorrow, along with close-ups of other details. Cheers!

Wonderful night
only your test
Image by NeeZhom Photomalaya

A night shot beside the beach. Thanx to my buddy Mr Nasir TX2642 for accompanying me to go out for night shot couples days ago. This photo was shot by him actually, i gave him to test night shot, and i don’t expect that the result really satisfied me 😀 He beats me!! duuhhh

Sony Alpha 200 , 166 seconds exposure (don’t have to expose longer because that night is full moon) + kit lense + shutter release cable + tripod

I just enhance this photo a bit (adjust curve only) in Photoshop. All original colours 😉

Download wallpaper size photos =

Thanx for all comments and faves, all the best. Have a nice days ahead! We’re all belong to each other and came from same father and mother (Adam and Eve), so peace and justice for all 🙂

"O God You do not create this to waste , The Exalted One please protect us from hellfire" SubhanAllah …….

Cool Only Your Test images

Some cool only your test images:

Yellow Jumping Castles
only your test
Image by pango inflatable
Product Name: Yellow Jumping Castles
Product No: GL157
Size: 5.2mLx5.2mWx4.5mH
Pack: 134x85x85cm
Weight: 184KG
Material: 0.55mm PLATO PVC Tarpaulin
Cert: CE,EN14960,EN71

Contact Site:
Not just fit and finish, Pango make a second blower tube and hide it if not use. We make the two tubes on different of the bouncer so that could fit the power location. Looking down the road you will find you need a second inflation tube. We want to make sure clients could use the bouncer convenient.
Stronger Baffles
Baffles that are secured by a 840 denier material that provides the MAXIMUM strength of the internal baffling of every inflatables. This material upgrade is unmatched by anyone else in the industry. This material is key to the overall durability of the products we sell.
D Ring Expose
Take a close look at the construction of the "d" rings in the products we sell. A tether system is only as strong as its weakest link. Tether points on the inflatable are extremely durable. The "d" ring tethering System have been laboratory-tested and certified by Professional Engineers for use on all giant slides and all other types of inflatables.
Vinyl(PVCTarpaulin) Expose
At Pango Inflatable, the only products we sell are constructed from the finest coated vinyl. Unlike other vinyl producers, the Coated Vinyl are Lead-Free in addition to meeting the EN71 test by SGS. Lead-Free vinyl are a standard that has been that way since day one. Exposure to lead is dangerous to children. The products Pango Inflatable sell are safe from the effects of lead. As for durability, the materials are a weft inserted substrate, which makes any possible rips virtually impossible.
No Wax Surfaces
We provide removable sliding surfaces for every slides we made, While other only provide the normal vinyl, Inflatable vinyl is not naturally slippery, therefore, waxing has become a normal preparation for getting a slide ready for use. The removable sliding surface found the on the products we sell is a high polished urethane coating, which in turn reduces the need to wax.
Zipper with Flaps
Unlike others, Pango Inflatable sells products that are easy to use. For example, the deflation zipper utilizes a Velcro flap that covers the zipper, thus, less air is lost and zippers are not exposed to abrasion or mischief.
Blower Tube Strap
While most manufacturers tie their blower inflation tubes to the blower system, however, the products Pango Inflatable sells, utilizes a universal sleeve with a cinching Velcro strap. One- handed operation keeps the tube securely attached to the blower system.
Liquid Laminator
DWe do the Digital Printing in our factory, unlike most factory here in China, they do the printing outside and could not control the delivery time and the quality. igitally printed graphics are one thing, keeping those beautiful images durable as well scratch and fade resistant is quite another. Every digital image used within an inflatable sold by Pango Inflatable is clear-coated with a special liquid laminate that is vulcanized to the vinyl surface.
Finger-Safe Netting
Most bouncer manufacturers use 1" or 2" netting. A child bouncing can easily catch their fingers in that size of netting, thus serious injuries can happen. Only the Pango Inflatable could provide netting that even a small child’s finger cannot penetrate. Yet, the netting is still transparent enough to allow for easy viewing.
Removable Covers
Virtually every area that your customers step, slide or climb upon is on a replaceable & easily removable vinyl cover. From climbing stairs, to entrance tunnel sleeves to sliding surfaces, Pango Inflatable only sells products that are designed for high-volume traffic.
Safety Door on Bouncers
Worried about children possibly falling out of a bouncer? Don’t be. We got 3 points of reinforcement on the entrance of the bouncer which make the entrance very strong. Also we add the step outside the entrance following the AU and USA standards of jumping castle.
On-Staff Engineering and Designing
We do reinforce stitching at the fixion of D-ring. Four stitching line will share the tension of the bouncer. This made the D-ring last much longer and stronger. Other factory use other design of the fixion, but will not good for the tension sharing. Could find the differnce in the attached photos.
Cushion Designs
We do cushion between the wall and the base. When the kids bounce on the bouncer this parts bear most of the pressure, so this new design will make this parts much more strong and safety, while other factory only stitch to the base.

Faded Freeway [Faded Monochrome]
only your test
Image by edwardconde
Testing out some new photo editing applications only iPad. This filter is called Faded B&W. it reminds me of some old B&W magazines or book covers. What do you think? Does it work for you?

only your test
Image by 143d Sustainment Command (Expeditionary)
CAMP BLANDING, Fla. – After a punishing, 72-hour challenge that started with an Army Physical Fitness Test and weapons qualification, continued with warrior skill stations and an air assault obstacle course, and concluded with a 10-mile ruck march and sergeants major appearance board, 12 Army Reserve Soldiers can proudly say they completed the 2017 143d Sustainment Command (Expeditionary) Best Warrior Competition.

Brig. Gen. Deborah L. Army Brig. Gen. Deborah L. Kotulich, commanding general, 143d ESC, personally congratulated the participants during an awards ceremony conducted March 11, 2017, at Camp Blanding, Fla.

“I am thrilled by what you did to get here and impressed by what you accomplished here,” said Kotulich, a career officer who completed Air Assault school while attending West Point and, decades later, earned the German Armed Forces Badge for Military Proficiency. “I encourage everyone to share your experiences with your fellow Soldiers. The skills you demonstrated during this competition may one day save your life or the lives your battle buddies in combat.”

Although all 12 Soldiers received and deserved high praise from the 143d ESC’s senior leadership, only two earned the right to earn the title, “Best Warrior.”

Spc. Alisha Howell, an Orlando, Fla., native serving as a Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear specialist at Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 143d ESC, won first place in the Soldier category, while Sgt. James A. Smith, a Bay Springs, Miss., native assigned to the 647th Transportation Company as a motor transport operator, took home the trophy in the noncommissioned officer category. Howell and Smith will leave for New Orleans in April to compete at the 377th Theater Sustainment Command level.

“I am confident that these two Soldiers will proudly represent the 143d ESC at the next level,” said Kotulich. “I am also especially honored to be associated with every Soldier here who took precious time from his or her job, school and family to participate and support this annual event. Your courage and commitment exemplify the finest qualities of an Army Reserve Soldier.”

Story by Sgt. John L. Carkeet IV, 143d ESC

Photos by Sgt. John L. Carkeet IV, 143d ESC, and Spc. Aaron Barnes, 321st MI BN

10 Things a man will do only if he really loves you

10 Things a man will do only if he really loves you

To learn more about the 10 things a man will do only if he really loves you, CLICK HERE:

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And get Your FREE ebook ‘How to Get a Man to Love You”

I believe that among many types of relationships we have today is easy to get confused and forget about the features that really add value to a relationship. When someone really cares about you and loves you because he loves you and not because expect something from the relationship that begins to develop, it takes a completely different tint: there is nothing forced, concern is honest and genuine and there are no hidden reasons to be or not be with that person. Tampering games are not present and is accepted that everything will have its time. When you finally meet a person who is able to love selflessly you realize that there’s really not love like this one.

1. Never push you to do things you do not want.

Someone who truly loves you will always respect your decisions and will never push you to do things that are not for you, that could hurt you or you’re not ready for.

2. He will listen carefully.

This person will not only pretend to listen but also will really hear you, understand what you say, what you think and give answers accordingly. Conversations often only become an exchange of words in which you wait for your turn to speak again, but with this person will never be like this.

3. He’ll give you space for you to develop yourself as a person.

Part of love means never clip the wings of the other person nor take her needed personal space to keep developing as an individual.

4. He’ll take care of you whatever that means.

Perhaps for him to care of you involves lying next to you and listening to you talking until you feel better, it may be leaving you alone for a weekend while you manage to understand and process what just happened in your life. Whatever it is, whoever loves you will respect it.

5. He’ll embrace you only to prove you his love.

Physical contact goes to another level and although privacy is still important, often he’ll want to touch you just to remind you how much he loves you and how important you are to him.

6. He’ll write to you to remind you how much he misses you.

I do not mean your phone to be inundated with texts, but rather those little messages “have a nice day” or “I miss you” to remind you that wherever you are he’s still thinking of you and wishing you the best.

7. He’ll remember you during the day.

It is inevitable, it may not always be evident or not always tell you how much he dad you in his mind during the day, but if he loves you, you will always appear in one form or another in his thoughts.

8. He will help you in every possible thing.

He’ll be there to support you with any kind of crisis, whether material, emotional or physical. He’ll never choose to leave you alone when “not appropriate”.

9. Always worry about what you feel and think.

He will worry about your thoughts, how you see the world and what you think. He’ll want to know about your goals better and understand deeper of what moves you to act and live the way you live.

10. He’ll love you the way you are.

If there is a sign of love that trumps all others, is this: when someone accepts you as you are, with virtues and defects, and does not ask you to change or to do things you would not do, they love you for who you are today and not for what will be in the future and feel blessed to be at your side.

To learn more about the 10 things a man will do only if he really loves you, Just CLICK the Book image on the RIGHT or the link in the description BELOW.

To learn more about the 10 things a man will do only if he really loves you, CLICK HERE:

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Ant get Your FREE ebook ‘How to Get a Man to Love You”

6 Ways to know if a man really loves you

This presentation contains images that were used under a Creative Commons License. Click here to see the full list of images and attributions:
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Math trick questions- only a genius can answer – IQ test questions(brain teasers)

Math trick questions to test your intelligence and it will blow your mind. 90% will fail.

If you are a Genius, you should try and answer all the riddle questions. This is a brain teasers and test your memory and test your mental age. This is unbeatable and math puzzle for kids and also for adults.

Math is a hardest subject if you don’t understand. But here the explanation will teach you math.

Don’t forget to like, share and Subscribe.

Math trick puzzle teaser | brain teasers and riddles | brain games to test your intelligence | math trick and riddles puzzle for kids | iq test questions and answers.
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It Only Takes a Moment (Key News Thrillers)

It Only Takes a Moment (Key News Thrillers)

It Only Takes a Moment (Key News Thrillers)

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A seasoned television professional—the host of the top-rated KEY News morning show—Eliza Blake has reported on tragedies many times from behind the anchor’s desk . . . and she has survived devastating crises of her own. But only now is she learning the true meaning of terror when her seven-year-old daughter, Janie, is kidnapped from summer camp. Forced to suffer through a mother’s worst nightmare in the glare of the camera lights, Eliza finds herself trapped in a media circus as the police a

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Premium MCT Oil derived only from Organic Coconuts – 32oz BPA free bottle | The only MCT oil certified Paleo Safe and registered by the Vegan Society. Non-GMO and Gluten Free.

Premium MCT Oil derived only from Organic Coconuts - 32oz BPA free bottle | The only MCT oil certified Paleo Safe and registered by the Vegan Society. Non-GMO and Gluten Free.

  • BENEFITS: Medium-chain triglycerides (MCTs) are burned by the body for energy, or ‘fuel’, instead of being stored as fat.*
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Medium-chain triglycerides (MCTs) are fats with an unusual chemical structure that allows the body to digest them easily. Most fats are broken down in the intestine and remade into a special form that can be transported in the blood. But MCTs bypass the digestion process intact and taken into the bloodstream where they are used as quick energy for the body. LAURIC ACID & OIL PULLING
Coconut oil pulling has been used in Ayurvedic medicine for nearly 3000 years. The main reas

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Bentley Rhythm Ace CD album For Your Ears Only, tested and plays well.

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Access only test route

Look out for the access only sign when taking your test at the Newcastle Driving Test Centre at Trentham.
Tricky, but remember when you’ve passed your test its up to you to read road signs.
So when your on your test, remember check your mirrors, signal right and act on the signs and turn right when safe to so….Good luck

this is a TEST
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