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Northern lights above loch Inver in the Scottish Highlands.

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Enjoy with me!

This beautiful Scottish stream on a dreich day with only the sounds of nature...

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Ai is killing creativity and raising the level of human stupidity

(Share if you agree and spread the awareness)

Socmed platforms like Facebook are being spammed with images created by ai and pretending to be real photography, events or even sad little children with birthdaycakes, claiming nobody showed up at their party.

It’s unimaginable how many people react to those fake images, sharing them in the tens of thousands and posting reactions to them.

Congratulating a child that never excisted on a birthday that never took place, and never will.

As a creative person myself I’m in awe by these events. Real people struggling to get their artwork appreciated are being set aside by these soulless imagery.

I’m not totally against ai. Even I use it sometimes in daily life, but never for the photography I post online. Use it as a tool but not to falsify history or to make people believe that what they see is real. It’s not. Sadly, a lot of people fall with their eyes wide open in to the trap called ai.

The only reaction to these ai postings claiming to be real would be: Bullshit!

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"Reality star" the soulless news article raved.

But aren't we all reality stars in the same sky?

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The hills lay sleeping

Under an azure-like gown

My mind still dreaming

Of an imminent dawn

Where stars guide the sun

To the place of it's spawn

And then, at her birth

I woke up with a yawn

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Still one of my favorite shots. My son, 10 years old at the time, just enjoying a wonderful sunset on our favorite beach, Camperduin, in North Holland.

Standing there at the edge of mainland Europe, with no thoughts and not a care in the world. Would love to swap places with him right now. 😍

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This short story.. compelling?

"The red stone ritual"

The heartless voice behind her spoke in a tongue she didn't understand and gave her a hard push in the back that nearly made her stumble and fall.

Holding her balance with her hands bound behind her back wasn't easy but she managed to stay upright. Also, she now understood that he was urging her to walk on in his language...

It was unusually cold this morning. It was autumn, she could tell from the colour of the leaves, and it would be her last. It would have taken maybe one or two seasons for her to become a woman, but she won't be around that long, she thought while regret and fear filled her. No rites for her, no fest with good food and singing, no braided hair. 

For many years she lived with her tribe high in the hills until those men came and invaded their dwelling, slaughtering everyone but her, her sister and two other young girls. After the attack they took them to a large gathering of their own people, a seven days walk from her home. 

The girl wasn't pretty like the other ones. She didn't realize that, with that, her destiny was set.

Along the way it became clear that the men showed a bigger interest in the other girls than in her. At first she found that to be okay but when they arrived at the camp she was locked in with two other girls, who were already there and both of them also not as pretty. It made her worry. The other, pretty, girls were all taken to the tents of the men who took them. Her sister too.

After a few days with almost no food or water but some scraps, one of the girls in her cage was roughly taken by two grim looking men, her hands tied behind her back and a rope around her neck with which they forced her to follow. 

Later that day she could hear the  sound of drums in the distance with a gradual growing excitement in their rhythms.

The girl didn't come back that evening.

This morning it was her turn. After a short walk through the woods they came to a large clearing in which a circle of large stones rose from the wet grass.  Several men and women were gathered there already. Dressed up as grotesque forest animals. One wore the antlers of a big deer on his head, another wore the skin and the head of a bear. Others had skins and feathers of various animals  bound to their bodies. Their faces were painted black with red streaks. Animal bones were worn on strings and necklaces and all bore a weapon of some sort.

One of the stones, laying flat in the middle of the circle, was also red. But a different kind of red than the paint she saw on their faces. She knew this colour from the stone in her village where they slaughtered cattle like goats and deer. The dark red color of dried blood. In awe she stopped, the strength left her legs and she had to make an effort to keep standing. With fear in her eyes she turned to the man guiding her, only to be shoved forward again.

She started to cry in despair. 'Please, please, I can work for you!' She pleaded to indifferent ears. The man showed no understanding of her words, showed no emotion, nor mercy.

Suddenly those drums started sounding again, slowly at first, just like the day before when she has heard them when the first girl was taken away. Some of the beastlike figures started dancing around the stone circle, slowly by the rhythm of the drums, their eyes void of humanity, like in a trance. The bones hanging from their costumes clattering in unison with the rhythm of the drums.

With another push the man directed her towards the large stone in the middle of the circle and forced her to lay on it, on her back. Her hands were cut free with a stone knife only to be tied again. This time to the stone. The same thing happened to her legs.

The stretching of her limbs caused her to cry out.

The man with the antlers stood next to the stone to her left and started speaking in that horrible unintelligible language. His hands raised to the sky, his eyes closed.

The sky, to which, as a small girl she looked so often to look for clouds that looked like an animal, or a flower. Some even looked like humans. That sky, now white, grey and empty, as if it looked the other way to just not see what tragedy was unfolding beneath it.

The drums started to speed up, and she could hear the cries from the dancers as they started to speed up their dance.

Ecstatically.

Then, all of a sudden the drums stopped......

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The smell of the ocean

Seagulls laughing in the Applecross bay

And the last rays of sunshine

Coming over the mountains of Skye

Warm her Scottish heart

Enough for the approaching night

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Enjoying the silence in a small cottage somewhere on the outskirts of the Veluwe for some writing time..

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This beautiful sunset in glen Strathfarrar, Scotland. Almost outer worldly 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

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Stop what you're doing. Put on some headphones and watch this video. Sadly it can only relay a small percentage of how I felt while making it but rest assured, it will comfort you!

After watching the video please read the words I leave here for you .❤️

"Where the burn speaks of tales from the hills, taking them to the Loch for storing them in the oceans vault.

And the gentle breeze stirrs the hairs on my arm, reassuring the imminent arrival of spring, emphasized by the soft drone of a bumblebee searching the first nectar.

Here where birds serenade the rolling landscape and the cool nights are scented with the smell of coal and wood fires.

Where there are so many horizons.

And life is pure

That is where I want to be..."

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As I am writing this, I’m in my beloved Scotland.. Only two days left before I have to go back to the hectics and responsibilities of every day’s life.

For now I will leave you with this wonderful image of a Highlander Cow that I took while in the small town of Applecross. Situated on one of Scotlands mesmerizing peninsulas.

I will miss the peace and embrace of this country when I’m back on the mainland, but mark my words, I’ll be back! 😁🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

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I shot this compelling photo of my son, drawing during the covid lockdowns, with my Rolleiflex camera. An analog TLR (Twin Lens Reflex).

I can recall the moment vividly.

The pale sun dropping in from the window, lighting his face by bouncing from the paper he is drawing on. His small face fixed in a concentrated frown. One can only imagine on what he's contemplating about.

I hold this image dear. As I do my son himself of course 💛

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Writing

I love to sit at my favorite spot in a little restaurant in the commercial area of my hometown.

With my noise canceling earbuds and some relaxed music, slowly growing my story as the world passes by at the window. Ignorant of what I'm doing and the hardship that the characters in my story have to go through.

Well, have to go through? It's me who puts them through it. Comfortably sitting at a table with my macbook, typing away at their futures and pasts.

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Follow me down this road, the forest smelling like wet leaves, wood and coal fires from houses nearby. Where the cosy warmth tries to keep you indoors. But the call of nature is stronger and urges you to push on towards newer adventures beyond the curve of the road.

Keep on seeking those adventures and may you encounter many beautiful vistas on your way in 2024!

Best wishes for the new year!!

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Robert Frost??

I posted this photo I shot in Scotland online, and someone commented that it reminded him of a poem that Robert Frost wrote.

I didn’t know the poem in question (The road not taken) and looked it up online, and indeed, this could be one of the roads that Robert Frost wrote about! 😁

So, take in this beautiful scene from Balquhidder in Scotland and read the poetry Robert Frost wrote and make your conclusions… could this be a poetic road?

BY ROBERT FROST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

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"The red stone ritual"

The heartless voice behind her spoke in a tongue she didn't understand and gave her a hard push in the back that nearly made her stumble and fall.

Holding her balance with her hands bound behind her back wasn't easy but she managed to stay upright. Also, she now understood that he was urging her to walk on in his language...

It was unusually cold this morning. It was autumn, she could tell from the colour of the leaves, and it would be her last. It would have taken maybe one or two seasons for her to become a woman, but she won't be around that long, she thought while regret and fear filled her. No rites for her, no fest with good food and singing, no braided hair. 

For many years she lived with her tribe high in the hills until those men came and invaded their dwelling, slaughtering everyone but her, her sister and two other young girls. After the attack they took them to a large gathering of their own people, a seven days walk from her home. 

The girl wasn't pretty like the other ones. She didn't realize that, with that, her destiny was set.

Along the way it became clear that the men showed a bigger interest in the other girls than in her. At first she found that to be okay but when they arrived at the camp she was locked in with two other girls, who were already there and both of them also not as pretty. It made her worry. The other, pretty, girls were all taken to the tents of the men who took them. Her sister too.

After a few days with almost no food or water but some scraps, one of the girls in her cage was roughly taken by two grim looking men, her hands tied behind her back and a rope around her neck with which they forced her to follow. 

Later that day she could hear the  sound of drums in the distance with a gradual growing excitement in their rhythms.

The girl didn't come back that evening.

This morning it was her turn. After a short walk through the woods they came to a large clearing in which a circle of large stones rose from the wet grass.  Several men and women were gathered there already. Dressed up as grotesque forest animals. One wore the antlers of a big deer on his head, another wore the skin and the head of a bear. Others had skins and feathers of various animals  bound to their bodies. Their faces were painted black with red streaks. Animal bones were worn on strings and necklaces and all bore a weapon of some sort.

One of the stones, laying flat in the middle of the circle, was also red. But a different kind of red than the paint she saw on their faces. She knew this colour from the stone in her village where they slaughtered cattle like goats and deer. The dark red color of dried blood. In awe she stopped, the strength left her legs and she had to make an effort to keep standing. With fear in her eyes she turned to the man guiding her, only to be shoved forward again.

She started to cry in despair. 'Please, please, I can work for you!' She pleaded to indifferent ears. The man showed no understanding of her words, showed no emotion, nor mercy.

Suddenly those drums started sounding again, slowly at first, just like the day before when she has heard them when the first girl was taken away. Some of the beastlike figures started dancing around the stone circle, slowly by the rhythm of the drums, their eyes void of humanity, like in a trance. The bones hanging from their costumes clattering in unison with the rhythm of the drums.

With another push the man directed her towards the large stone in the middle of the circle and forced her to lay on it, on her back. Her hands were cut free with a stone knife only to be tied again. This time to the stone. The same thing happened to her legs.

The stretching of her limbs caused her to cry out.

The man with the antlers stood next to the stone to her left and started speaking in that horrible unintelligible language. His hands raised to the sky, his eyes closed.

The sky, to which, as a small girl she looked so often to look for clouds that looked like an animal, or a flower. Some even looked like humans. That sky, now white, grey and empty, as if it looked the other way to just not see what tragedy was unfolding beneath it.

The drums started to speed up, and she could hear the cries from the dancers as they started to speed up their dance.

Ecstatically.

Then, all of a sudden the drums stopped......