I don’t really lament or as in German we say; jammern (yammer) but I’m really to be deplored! I have had planed since Wednesday when I came back from Prague trip to write a journal and the Saturday is for me the only chance but the God of luck wasn’t agreed to give me the chance and I had to fight all my morning and forenoon to get the pictures into my PC!! I have used a lot of tricks and ways which I knew but finally just could get them in an afternoon!
Anyway, let me try at least to begin it if I should make it as some partitions. As I still believe that I’m not a writer (as a professional at least) I need a longer time to write a story; (with a confess that I type with one finger each hand 😀 )
So; I wanted to see Prague because of my long but not lost interest since my youth. I know the city from its intelligence!; As I have heard of so many artists history and scene in the legendary pops; especially Franz Kafka’s tells. And also the 68’s Prague Spring with Alexander Dubček which it failed by the inversions USSR. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Dub%C4%8Dek
Alexander Dubček
Thanks my adorable wife, as she is caring for me and my wishes, arranged this short but amazing trip to see my idol(s). She knows me well as she might think that I have not so much time and must not take my all wishes with me into the grave. Please don’t think I’m exaggerating something; if you’d live in a country of the “so-called”; third world but have a brain on the beat, you’d surely have many wishes!
Before I share the pictures I want to show my appreciations to this; Czechoslovakia or these countries; Czech Republic & Slovakia for their separation in a peaceful condition which is unique in the human’s history. The Dissolution of Czechoslovakia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dissolution_of_Czechoslovakia
we can really recognize the whole city as a museum ❤
It is a really interesting question; I’d answer: Yes!
As we might know and history would show us, it is so and it has been all the time. We are all involved with the social fact as we are living in the mass of public!
…The cause of human-being coming to exist, however, is not clear. The only clearness is that this form of existence seems not to be what was required to be. This would be a case to discuss about, if we made a general consideration of human behavior and the path of indulgence and trespass that he has gone through his chronicle, in a serious way. To make it possible, the undeniable hostility between mankind and nature in general (in the order that one’s life means the other’s death), seems to be a proper clue for getting into a process which began when the first ape, if ever, in quest for meat climbed down his home-tree, and while missing his body hair and the other animal means, his mutation began. But this, either because of his mental disability or gradual lack of all necessary outfits (strong instinct and proper quality of senses, claws, teeth and body-cover) should have gone as a chaotic beginning, where our poor descending predecessor had no way but to somehow regain his missing necessary strength for survival. And since there was no natural way remained for this recovery process, he began to manipulate as well as to imitate nature, or in other words, he commenced to run for an unnatural life. It is simple to conceive that an abrupt fear took the new creature totally up, so that he felt himself defenseless and naked in confrontation with his apparently brutal and cruel environment. This is most likely that another result could or even had to be obtained if this misfortune in Man’s initial touch with nature had not obstructed the process. And this is also possible that a project had once been planned to create a special and extraordinary species to be able to engender an intellectual kind of harmony among the natural parts and elements on this planet.
This is a part of a roman “The Season of Limbo” which, my brother Al wrote in the 90’s.
Of course, it isn’t the whole of the article but, as you should mention it; it is something social therefore political. I mean; as we all once decided to live safety together as a social community on this almost unfamiliar terrain, we have chosen the communion way of life and as the art in us, is the communion way of our expression only as an idea to make it better!
As I lived in Iran, the great Political Idols for me were the artists in countries like: In the south Americas, or and so on!
finally; long talk short sense, I think the artists are growing up in the very society as they live, therefore, their arts come from their soul and I think that is the main point; Creation by one’s soul.
truly, I found this article and the memories of those days in which we were fighting against the dictatorship of the Shah’s regime (it wasn’t so fur worst as it is now!) and these activities like; Neruda, Garcia Marques, Milan Kundera, Ernest Hemingway, even Shakespeare were all the political activist. We all are Artists, who are trying to make a reason for our beings.
Does politics belong in art? The question arouses heated debate about creative freedom and moral responsibility. Assumptions include the idea that politics cheapens film, music, or literature, or that political art should abandon traditional ideas about beauty and technique. As engaging as such discussions might be in the abstract, they mean little to nothing if they don’t account for artists who show us that choosing between politics and art can be as much a false dilemma as choosing between art and love.
In the work of writers as varied as William Blake, Muriel Rukeyser, James Baldwin, and James Joyce, for example, themes of protest, power, privilege, and poverty are inseparable from the sublimely erotic—all of them essential aspects of human experience, and hence, of literature. Foremost among such political artists stands Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, who—as the TED-Ed video above from Ilan Stavans informs us—was a romantic stylist, and also a fearless political activist and revolutionary.
Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971, and, among his many other literary accomplishments, he “rescued 2,000 refugees, spent three years in political exile, and ran for president of Chile.” Neruda used “straightforward language and everyday experience to create lasting impact.” He began his career writing odes and love poems filled with candid sexuality and sensuous description that resonated with readers around the world.
Neruda’s international fame led to a series of diplomatic posts, and he eventually landed in Spain, where he served as consul in the mid-1930s during the Spanish Civil War. He became a committed communist, and helped relocate hundreds of fleeing Spaniards to Chile. Neruda came to believe that “the work of art” is “inseparable from historical and political context,” writes author Salvatore Bizzarro, and he “felt that the belief that one could write solely for eternity was romantic posturing.”
Yet his lifelong devotion to “revolutionary ideals,” as Stavans says, did not undermine his devotion to poetry, nor did it blinker his writing with what we might call political correctness. Instead, Neruda became more expansive, taking on such subjects as the “entire history of Latin America” in his 1950 epic Canto General.
Neruda died of cancer just weeks after fascist dictator Augusto Pinochet seized power from elected president Salvador Allende in 1973. Today, he remains a beloved figure for activists, his lines “recited at protests and marches worldwide.” And he remains a literary giant, respected, admired, and adored worldwide for work in which he engaged the struggles of the people with the same passionate intensity and imaginative breadth he brought to personal poems of love, loss, and desire.
It is really an interesting question; I think that the answer is somehow relative! I said this because I have tasted the two different world to praise one’s life and it is different. The picture above is the girl or woman, who burned herself before the “Judge” because she disguised herself as masculine to get into the football stadium as in Iran the women are not allowed to watch the half-naked men!! It might be a laughingly easy joke for the world, but actually, I asked myself after shockingly read this news, how much worth is one’s life;
This question once become in my head when I left Iran, a so-called third world country, in Germany. There I’d see how life could be worthy.
In Iran we have taken it much easier when someone died, it sounded so naturally, but here in Germany, I mentioned that it isn’t!
Here, as C.G.Jung says; It is the point; We are all individual in a self-living insistence: Cogito, ergo sum as René Descartes had said;
This is an idea of thought, which isn’t current in the “Third words” The mass of people is the main thing and not their individuality.
Anyway, my wonder has begun with the self-burning of a Tunisian at the beginning of the “so-called Arabic Spring”! But that was; in my opinion, a radio in an almost hot situation which had brought almost nothing in the end.
at the end; long talk short sense; I think the life every individual is worthy, but unfortunately this girl’s life has been lost into an unworthiness. I hope her soul will be blessed by all goodness.
As I try to take the benefit of my golden Saturday, minute by minute, let me show my deeply feeling for this fascinating complex of the soul; Fredric Nietzsche. Stunningly, I’m knowing him again and again as a Macho, about at the beginning to an opened minded man as new!
the first record;
And the second record;
I fell in love with the philosophy as I might once write, was a book which I’ve got in hand from my brother named; The History of the Philosophy. Plato’s Socrates Socrates · Republic (Plato) was not new for me but there were some new ones: Spinoza Baruch Spinoza was my first love, and it went further with Schopenhauer Arthur Schopenhauer , Nietzsche Friedrich Nietzsche , Kant Kant , Russel Bertrand Russell, Sartre Sartre etc.
To put it bluntly, I think that philosophy is the door to open the dark side of the soul, to recognize the self, to think: Cogito ergo sum;;
And the last but not least;
Here is a nice animation to introduce him in another line; Acceptance! The Acceptance is not to give up! 🙂 ❤
The idea of acceptance has found much, well… acceptance in our therapeutic culture, by way of Elisabeth Kübler-Ross’ five stages of grief, 12-step programs, the wave of secular mindfulness practices, the body-acceptance movement, etc. All of these interventions into depressed, bereaved, guilt-ridden, and/or anxious states of mind have their own aims and methods, which sometimes overlap, sometimes do not. But what they all share, perhaps, for all the struggle involved, is a general sense of optimism about acceptance.
One cannot say this definitively about the Stoic idea of amor fati—the instruction to “love one’s fate”—though you might be persuaded to think otherwise if you google the term and come up with a couple dozen popularizations. Yes, there’s love in the name, but the fate we’re asked to embrace may just as well be painful and debilitating as pleasurable and uplifting. We cannot change what has happened to us, or much control what’s going to happen, so we might as well just get used to it, so to speak.
If this isn’t exactly optimism in the sense of “it gets better,” it isn’t entirely pessimism either. But it can become a grim and joyless fatalistic exercise. Yet, as Friedrich Nietzsche used the term—and he used it with much relish—amor fati means not only accepting loss, suffering, mistakes, addictions, appearances, or mental and emotional turbulence; it means accepting all of it—everything and everyone that causes both pain and pleasure, as Alain de Botton says above, “with strength and an all-embracing attitude that borders on a kind of enthusiastic affection.”
“I do not want to wage war against what is ugly,” he wrote in The Gay Science, “I do not want to accuse; I do not even want to accuse those who accuse.” Readers of Nietzsche may find themselves picking up any one of his books, including The Gay Science, to see him doing all of the above, constantly, on any random page. But his is never a systematic philosophy, but an expression of passion and attitude, inconsistent in its parts but, as a whole, surprisingly holistic. “My formula for greatness in a human being,” he writes in Ecce Homo, “is amor fati”
That one wants nothing to be different, not forward, not backward, not in all eternity. Not merely bear what is necessary, still less conceal it… but love it.
Although the concept may remind us of Stoic philosophy, and is very often discussed in those terms, Nietzsche saw such thought—as he understood it—as gloomy, ascetic, and life-denying. His use of amor fati goes beyond mere resignation to something more radical, and very difficult for the human mind to stomach, to use a somewhat Nietzschean figure of speech. “It encompasses the whole of world history (including the most horrific episodes),” notes a Leiden University summary, “and Nietzsche’s own role in this history.” Above all, he desired, he wrote, to be a “Yes-sayer.”
Is amor fati a remedy for regret, dissatisfaction, the endlessly restless desire for social and self-improvement? Can it banish our agony over history’s nightmares and our personal records of failure? De Botton thinks so, but one never really knows with Nietzsche—his often satirical exaggerations can turn themselves inside out, becoming exactly the opposite of what we expect. Yet above all, what he always turns away from are absolute ideals; we should never take his amor fati as some kind of divine commandment. It works in dialectical relation to his more vigorous critical spirit, and should be applied with a situational and pragmatic eye. In this sense, amor fati can be seen as instrumental—a tool to bring us out of the paralysis of despair and condemnation and into an active realm, guided by a radically loving embrace of it all.
Carl Gustav Jung is best known as one of the fathers of modern psychotherapy alongside his erstwhile associates Sigmund Freud and Alfred Adler. He introduced such terms as introversion and extraversion, the collective unconscious, archetypes and synchronicity into the popular vocabulary. But beyond that, most people today probably know little about the man. Understanding something of his profound influence, however, is critical for anyone who wants to better understand the current state of Western culture.
After his departure from Freud’s Vienna Psychoanalytic Society in 1910, Jung founded an approach he named Analytical Psychology, many tenets of which have not only led some to refer to him as a “founding father of the New Age” but also prevented much of the scientific community from taking him seriously.
Stung by his lack of acceptance as a scientist, Jung hated being called a mystic, a label which nevertheless clung to him throughout his life and beyond. Even his secretary, Aniela Jaffé, acknowledged that “the clear analogies that exist between mysticism and Jungian psychology cannot be overlooked,” although she insisted that “this fact in no way denies its scientific basis.”
Likewise Gary Lachman notes in his 2010 biography that despite Jung’s assertion to the contrary, “he would, by his own definition, be a mystic.” He openly admitted to having paranormal experiences and participating in séances. Lachman also attributes the psychologist’s reputation as a mystic to the fact that he claimed special, secret knowledge or gnosis “not obtained through the normal methods of cognition.” In fact, “Jung’s link to Gnosticism was so significant,” observes Lachman, “that one of the Gnostic scrolls making up the [Nag Hammadi] library was purchased by the Jung Foundation in 1952 and named the ‘Jung Codex’ in honor of the man many saw as a modern Gnostic.”
“Recollection of the outward events of my life has largely faded or disappeared. But my encounters with the ‘other’ reality, my bouts with the unconscious, are indelibly engraved upon my memory.” C.G. JUNG, MEMORIES, DREAMS, REFLECTIONS (1961)
Jung’s use of religious terms has sometimes encouraged the misconception that his idea of spirituality is somehow compatible with a biblical view; but in Jung’s writings, the subjects of God, Christ and religion in general were invariably presented as mythology.
So who was this ambitious loner? Most biographies focus on the relational history of their subjects—the families into which they are born and the later encounters that influenced their development, but a sketch of Carl Gustav Jung’s life, by necessity, is bound to have a slightly different focus. The experiences that had the most profound effect on him were, by his own account, those that occurred within himself; people and the physical trappings of everyday life were relatively uninteresting to him.
“The very things that make up a sensible biography,” said Jung in the autobiography he dictated to Jaffé, had become for him mere “phantasms” compared to one’s inner developments. These consisted of his experiences in the form of dreams, visions (some might characterize them as hallucinations), interplay between his two inner “selves” (one of which, dubbed “No. 2,” he described as an authoritative 18th-century character with a white wig, who traveled in a coach and wore buckled shoes), and other active imaginings that formed inner pathways to what he would later term “individuation,” or the process of becoming who we are by integrating the conscious with the unconscious.
Nevertheless some aspects of a sensible biography of Jung can be collected and narrated. His birth on July 26, 1875, for instance, was certainly no phantasm, at least so far as his mother, Emilie Preiswerk Jung, must have been concerned. Carl was her fourth child, but two daughters had been stillborn and another son had died soon after birth. The children’s father, Paul, was a Protestant minister, but he was unhappy both in his profession and in his marriage, which could not have been pleasant for his wife either. Described as depressed, and more interested in the occult than in showing any affection to her son, Emilie had to be hospitalized for a period after suffering a breakdown when Carl was about three, an event that made a lasting impression on him. Jung records that he was never able to trust women again.
He grew up essentially an only child, and the arrival of his sister Gertrude when he was 9 changed little. Jung says, “I played alone, and in my own way. Unfortunately I cannot remember what I played; I recall only that I did not want to be disturbed.” Lachman observes that this preference for isolation “stayed with Jung throughout his life.” Albert Oeri, a lifelong friend, remarked retrospectively that he and Jung were initially brought together to play because their fathers were “old school friends” and both men hoped their sons would also form a close relationship. This hope was at first dashed, however; Carl continued to concentrate on his solitary pursuit, refusing to notice Albert. “How is it that after some fifty-five years I remember this meeting at all?” Oeri mused. “Probably because I had never come across such an asocial monster before.”
Even after his marriage to Emma Rauschenbach and his ensuing fatherhood, Jung retained his general disinterest in others. In A Life of Jung, Ronald Hayman notes that while Jung sometimes went sailing with his son Franz (perhaps more out of a love of sailing than out of any particular interest in his son), he generally kept his daughters at arm’s length. On one rare occasion when he included them on a boat trip, he bought them a treat. “Look,” exclaimed eight-year-old Marianne to her mother, “Franz’s father bought me a little cake!” Emma took advantage of the occasion to explain to her daughter that Jung was her father too.
Jung’s wife and five children learned to accustom themselves to the wide range of his eccentricities. In addition to being required to accept one of his mistresses as a member of the household, they also lived with the paranormal phenomena which seemed to increase in the household when Jung would shut himself away in privacy to practice “active imagination”—inducing a state somewhere between waking and sleeping (hypnagogia), in which he would commune with his inner voices in order to resolve any conflicts between the conscious and the unconscious. Jung’s autobiographical descriptions of the visions he experienced in this state might come across as somewhat bizarre to many readers, particularly considering the fact that his ambition was to be seen as a man of science.
“It seems to me as if that alienation which so long separated me from the world has become transferred into my own inner world, and has revealed to me an unexpected unfamiliarity with myself.” C.G. JUNG, MEMORIES, DREAMS, REFLECTIONS (1961)
However, his apparent affinity with the spirit world had a long and even familial history. His mother was the daughter of a Hebrew scholar who maintained a chair in his study for the convenience of his dead first wife’s ghost. He was visited by other figures as well, and it was Emilie’s job to shoo them away so he could work on his sermons. Eventually Emilie herself developed “mediumistic powers,” including a second personality who was observed regularly by young Carl in the years leading up to the apparent emergence of his own “No. 2.” Jung records that between his eighth and eleventh year, “the nocturnal atmosphere” at home “had begun to thicken.” Describing the events as “incomprehensible and alarming,” Jung says: “From the door to my mother’s room came frightening influences. At night Mother was strange and mysterious. One night I saw coming from her door a faintly luminous, indefinite figure whose head detached itself from the neck and floated along in front of it, in the air, like a little moon. Immediately another head was produced and again detached itself. This process was repeated six or seven times.”
Considering such experiences together with Jung’s subsequent interests and practices throughout his life—including his clearly Gnostic late-life work, Answer to Job (1952)—one assertion Lachman records him as having made in a 1957 interview seems extraordinary. On that occasion Jung declared, “Everyone who says that I am a mystic is just an idiot.”
But then, by his own estimation, Jung was not the best one to summarize his life. “I am incapable of determining ultimate worth or worthlessness,” his autobiography records; “I have no judgment about myself and my life. There is nothing I am quite sure about. I have no definite convictions—not about anything, really. I know only that I was born and exist, and it seems to me that I have been carried along.” Despite his uncertainty on this issue, Jung nevertheless expressed his conviction of some kind of continuity of being, whether through reincarnation or something else. Many of the concepts he coined for his particular philosophy, at any rate, do seem destined to remain a part of the popular vocabulary.
SELECTED REFERENCES
Ronald Hayman, A Life of Jung (1999).
Aniela Jaffé, Was C.G. Jung a Mystic?and Other Essays (1989).
C.G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections, recorded and edited by Aniela Jaffé, (1961, 1995).
Gary Lachman, Jung the Mystic: The Esoteric Dimensions of Carl Jung’s Life and Teachings (2010).
AlbertOeri, “Some Youthful Memories,” in C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, edited by William McGuire and R.F.C. Hull (1977).
You know what?: I have enough of the Fu,,,ng stuff called; trademark!
As I remember, in the end of the 60’s I was about 17th years old and was one a few western companion of the “Hippy-time in that period, in which the Shah’s regime tried to keep the relationship to the west but in a controlled way.
in this situation, I got the moving in the west; Love. Peace, Freedom.
I had a hard way to look after it and also to fight against the mute people around. we were a few in those days but very powerful!
Anyway, I know this song by the C. S. N&Y and I get to know that it is written by another one. I really don’t care though, I am happy it is written by a woman ❤
So, in my opinion there is not the matter of who take the winner card. It is a wonderful song which described us all:
We are stardust, we are golden We are billion year old carbon And we got to get ourselves back to the garden
Among the slew of iconic late-60s acts who played Woodstock 50 years ago, one name stands out conspicuously for her absence: Joni Mitchell. Was she not invited? Did she decline? Was she double-booked? Mitchell was, of course, invited, and eagerly wanted to be there. The story of her non-appearance involves alarming headlines in The New York Times and an appearance on The Dick Cavett Show the day after the festival that her manager, Elliot Roberts and label head David Geffen, decided she simply couldn’t miss.
Her significant other at the time, Graham Nash, reached the upstate New York festival with CSNY, “by helicopter and a stolen truck hot-wired by Neil Young,” reports the site Nightflight. But Geffen and Mitchell, seeing the headline “400,000 People Sitting in Mud,” and a description of the roads as “so clogged with cars that concertgoers were abandoning them and walking,” decided they shouldn’t take the risk. (She described the scene as a “national disaster area.”) Instead, they watched news about the mud-splattered event from Geffen’s New York City apartment (other accounts say they holed up in the Plaza Hotel).
So how is it Mitchell came to write the definitive Woodstock anthem, with its era-defining lyric “we’ve got to get ourselves back the garden”? In the way of all artists—she watched, listened, and used her imagination to conjure a scene she only knew of secondhand. CSNY’s version of “Woodstock” (live, below, at Madison Square Garden in 2009) is the one we tend to hear most and remember, but Mitchell’s—her voice soaring high above her piano—best conveys the song’s sense of youthful hippie idealism, mystical wonder, and just a touch of desperation. (At the top, she plays the song live in Big Sur in 1969.) David Yaffe, author of Reckless Daughter: A Portrait of Joni Mitchell describes the song as “purgation. It is an omen that something very, very bad will happen with the mud dries and the hippies go home.”
Mitchell did make the Cavett Show gig, alongside Stephen Stills, David Crosby, and Jefferson Airplane, all just returning from the festival. But she didn’t have much to say. Instead, the gregarious Crosby does most of the talking, describing Woodstock as “incredible, probably the strangest thing that’s ever happened in the world.” Surveying the scene from a helicopter, he says, was like seeing “an encampment of a Macedonian army on a Greek hill crossed with the biggest batch of gypsies you ever saw.” Later on the show, Mitchell played “Chelsea Morning” and other songs, after performances by Jefferson Airplane.
“The deprivation of not being able to go,” she remembered, “provided me with an intense angle” on the festival. “Woodstock, for some reason, impressed me as being a modern miracle, like a modern-day fishes-and-loaves story. For a herd of people that large to cooperate so well, it was pretty remarkable and there was tremendous optimism. So I wrote the song ‘Woodstock’ out of these feelings, and the first three times I performed it in public, I burst into tears, because it brought back the intensity of the experience and was so moving.”
She did finally get the chance to play “Woodstock” at Woodstock, in 1998 (above, on electric guitar), for an appreciative long-haired, tie-dyed audience—many of them nostalgic for a moment they missed or were too young to have experienced. The performance highlights the “sense of longing that became essential to the song’s impact,” as Leah Rosenzweig writes at Vinyl Me, Please. “Sure, it was the irony of the century”: the song that best captured Woodstock for the people who weren’t there was written by someone who wasn’t there. “But it was also a perfect recipe for Mitchell to do what she did best: draw humans together while remaining completely on the sidelines.”
Hi dear friends, it is again weekend and I can try to continue telling about my holidays trip to beautiful Greece.
Of course, I must tell you about my shocking moment yesterday, as I finished my work happily to begin my lovely work on my PC but couldn’t believe the screen on the monitor before my eyes show a blue shit and telling me that the Windows couldn’t get opened and it needs a repair! 😲
I just optimistically clicked on the repair button but after a few minutes got the info; Windows can’t be repaired! I tried many times with no positive result. 😒
I tell you how I missed my brother in this terrible minutes more than ever because he was a genius also in what so ever mattering on PC.
Anyway, I dared to try by myself (whom else!) and finally got the way to restore it again 🙂 😜
So! Now to the story; to put it bluntly, I am not a man of much activity 😏 I mean a little bit lazy 😎 but my wife is a kind of action; she can’t stay inactive just maybe for getting rest! Therefore, when we get together on a vacation, she plans all the “Activities” on the journey and I confess that I’m happy about that; it brings me to move. (look! She is eight years younger than me.) 😁😂
The first few days we have stayed in our place to get the common view around us then she put the first activity; On the search of the Old Wall of the Town, which was intact long time ago and now was apart and one must track down this at the edge of the city; Regina, my wife has always a relevant book about our aiming place in which we want to spend our vacation and there was a mini scribble about the old wall and where it begins and get forwards.
On this small map it looked so easy and also the beginning with the God & the Goddess of all Gods; Zeus & Hera it looked all so fine. But I tell you after that the way didn’t get so easily straight ahead, it got straight upwards!!
But I tell you, as It went higher and higher, I found it more enjoyable. It was really a wonderful adventure as we must try to find the next step to go further; it was not marked or no shields to show the right way, and after we went downwards on the other side of the height, we’ve found out that there is the comfortable, touristic shown way to climb! But I’m happy that we didn’t know it and we began from the unknown side 😉 though, we’ve got it happily and successfully. 🙂
Now there are some pics about this adventure, hopping you’d enjoy 🙂 ❤
me-Lady is waiting for me 😀 And I’m waiting now 😉
there we’d got the top! A very beautiful Butterfly. Now getting downwardsI am not tired 😉There we are on the earth again ❤
Hi lovely friend, I’m back now from my holidays trip and want to share some of the events and pics about this vacation.
Though, to put it bluntly, I’ve got such a day in which have not so much energy! I don’t know if you might experience such days; I feel arrrggg…brrrgh!! not the lust of doing something
Anyway, at least I begin with some nice pictures of the arrival and the first days. That’s why I named this Nr; 1 😀
On the ferry from mainland to the Island The first day and the first and the only visitor on our balcony 🙂I have taken a short video which I will share it later separately 😉 from our placethe wonderful calm Aegean (I’m sunbathing 😀 )
lampmagician 
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