#Car tinting in North Shore

[capricecarvalet]

Keep and Protect Your Car with Car Tinting, Paint Protection, and Car Grooming Services in North Shore

Having a car involves responsibility - an investment that you will want to keep and protect. Car tinting in North Shore, paint protection film in Auckland, and car grooming in North Shore ensure that your vehicle remains in minty condition and protected against wear and tear as well as environmental elements.

North Shore Car Tinting: Aesthetic, Comfort, and Protection

North Shore car tinting service is one of the options that car owners opt for in order to have their car windows beautified with comfort. It assists them in improving the car's windows' aesthetic value as it reduces heat and glare for a pleasant drive during sunny days. Quality car tinting in North Shore will, for example, prevent up to 99% of damaging UV rays from coming into your car to ensure further protection to you and the upholstery inside your vehicle against damage that could be incurred over time to fade or discolour the pieces.

Apart from the cosmetic benefits, tinted windows offer a higher degree of privacy and security. Because it's rather tough to see what goes on in there, thieves tend to keep away from cars whose windows are tinted. The feeling that all valuables would be well kept within will therefore leave people more safe and secure. Glare from lights shining into your car because of other peoples' headlights is done away with in car tinting, an aspect that protects the safety of the road navigators at night while on roads.

Paint protection film Auckland: The aesthetic appearance of your car should always remain flawless.

A must-have investment for any owner of a vehicle who intends to maintain the shine and condition of his car's exterior is paint protection film. Auckland roads are challenging; debris, stones, and weather elements all contribute to potential paint damage. Applying a paint protection film in Auckland provides an invisible shield against these hazards. Great PPF does withstand small scratches and doesn't create chips, scratches, and stains that might otherwise give your car an inferior appearance.

Paint protection film is not only strong, but it also heals itself by causing the scratches to disappear due to the impact of heat over time. PPF will ensure that your car looks brand new for many years and even become a haven for resale value. Regardless of whether it's in the city every day or frequent touring around the country, paint protection film in Auckland can save you from all the hassle and time money you'll be wasting for repair paint damage.

Car Grooming in North Shore: Complete Care Inside and Out

The best way to keep your car's interior and exterior clean is through regular car grooming. Car grooming in North Shore involves an all-out cleaning, detailing, and polishing that will make your car look great and put it in good condition. Professional car grooming services attend to every detail, including vacuuming and shampooing the interior to polishing paintwork on the exterior.

In North Shore, car grooming involves steam cleaning, deodorizing, and conditioning of seats and surfaces. The interior will feel new again after this. A clean interior and polished exterior mean you can drive your vehicle with pride. Moreover, car grooming extends the life of different parts since dust, grime, and stains are removed before they damage them.

Conclusion

For car owners in North Shore and throughout Auckland, the services of car tinting, paint protection film, and car grooming provide essential benefits. For car owners in North Shore, car tinting upgrades your car with added privacy, comfort, and safety, while paint protection film for Auckland protects your vehicle's exterior against chips and scratches. Lastly, North Shore car grooming keeps your car looking and feeling brand-new inside and out. These services are an investment in your value and the longevity of your vehicle, so you can enjoy every drive with confidence and style.

[richarddavies-ardn632]

WIP - IMAGE 2

This scene I have created from 2 images (below) is the start of a representation of the idea on how hobbies can get lost through life as we get busy and distracted. In this image, I looked at what a helmet may symbolise: Safety, motorcycles, riding, community, freedom. What does the tinted visor represent when photographed over my clear vision? To me, when photographed for a creative outcome, it represents the idea of hiding from the outside world. The freeing feeling that is accociated with this (in the riding community this is refered to as "helmet confidence") is strong, being able to see the world without the world seeing you is quite comforting. Representing this specifically through adding glare and reflections to the visor in digital post processing.

THE REASON FOR EACH IMAGE CHOSEN

First image: I invisioned a sunset and overall darker image for the composition, hence why I chose the sunset image I had taken overlooking fields (torbay area on the north shore, Auckland).

Second image: Adding a helmet to the sunset I felt as though well represented me as a rider and what I feel as though this symbolises. As discussed above the meaning behind my choice of a tinted visor, it felt necessary to place the helmet in a darker location where sunstrike may be an effect.

Personal connection: The personal connection to my choice to combine these images is because I love chasing sunsets on the bike or in my car, I find a lot of peace watching the sun setting at the end of the day. Recreating this feeling in an image was my reasoning for choosing both of these images.

[enigmasepiphanies]

Tart but not tarty nor tardy

I’m a Sabertooth

My smiles are as sweet as they are sour

I am a sour patch h kid as a smile

I’m never gonna change my future with that smile

Smiles are meant to bring a positive response

Mine makes others grimace or ask questions.

So here’s the explanation.

I had a lot of dental work done over the last 15 years. I am 41. I had a little crack in the very front tooth for awhile. I had a lot of dental work done on my front teeth for five to seven years before my front tooth split in half mid-flight in a cross country flight from FL. As the plane ascended into the skies my front tooth throbbed and I head a sharp shriek escape my lips as a bolt of lightning exploded form my front lip up and over my skull and into the back of my head. I passed out in excruciating pain. I woke up in excruciating pain and spent the next 3 hours and 2 days in agony while my front tooth scraped and moved in place. It didn’t bleed it just throbbed. I made a Dentist appt in Haleiwa while I was in San Francisco for the very first available appointment in Haleiwa on Oahu in Hawai’i. Upon having the front tooth removed, I was out of pain and so grateful. I started having regular cleanings and continued my dental treatments at a Waimānalo Smiles. The dentists advised me to keep working on cavities, extractions, periodontal work and healing the space where the front tooth used to live.

About a year later I was ready to get either and implant or a bridge to make my smile compete. I had new dentists a group of women which I was excited about having female doctors. Big mistake.

I broke out in a huge bacterial infection in my gums. There were pustules where each puncture wound from Novocaine. Within a day I was in excruciating pain in my mouth. A hard hook made of bonding popped into my top lip and a huge abscess formed. Within a few hours my jaw lymph nodes and neck swelled til I was afraid of losing my ability to take breath. My face began to swell and turn red and pink on my neck and face. Huge pimples broke out around my mouth corners. I began to panic and begged my mom to take me to the hospital. She wasn’t willing and I had to beg barter and seam and at high volume eventually to get her to take me to the ER.

I went to ER at Queens in Ewa. I was given doxycycline and cephlaxin and within a few days I was less inflamed. It came back within a month. My face first then my throat. It felt like a vice around my windpipe. Swelling as the heat rose in late summer. I lay panting in my parents north shore house that we have lived in since 2003.

I went insane at this point. I was terrified. I had a sun allergy from being in the sun for a few short minutes. I felt like I was on fire from within. I saw shooting stars and sparks leaving my arms in the sun that were in a car with no tint and no escape form the sunlight UV rays. I was screaming for her to turn around as we were in traffic at the bypass at Haleiwa and bumper to bumper traffic. Guaranteed an hour in the sun. I was in so much pain. I think someone put either RETIN-A or TRETANOTIN in my family’s water tank. My family had a disgruntled tenant in our back studio on Ke Nui Rd, and I think he might have retaliated against my Dad for making our brand new solar water heater have skin burning shit in our hot shower water. I almost died and I was so terrified. It was torture. This was late last summer 2023.

The tenant was Skyler M and his two daughters. It was also at this time that I walking into a disgusting scented cloud of mildew compounded with dog shit. I passed out on my bed. I awoke to a rash as red as rouge blusher upon my cheeks.

Two days later I was electrocuted on the way to the beach access on my lane at Rocky Point. The center lane. I was screaming for what felt like 20 minutes. I don’t remember breathing just screaming in pain and agony.

October 2023 I may have been arrested without cause at my home for being alive. I was then taken by police to the criminal crime psych unit at Adventist Health Castle Kailua Hospital. That’s not my hospital. I am a Queens woman. I was I. the wrong hospital for 10 days. I did nothing wrong.

[stixxxy]

Merry Siegemas All! Day 12.

Sorry for posting so late, but I finally got home- thank you so much to @dualrainbow for allowing me to take part in Day 12 of this fun r6s writing event. :D

And apologies in advance incase there’s any grammar errors- I write and grammar check myself.

Fun Short Story; about 1.5k words.

Promt: Unexpectedly spending the holidays together

——

"You'd recon these people have at least some families for Christmas," James 'Smoke' Porter sighed, rubbing his hands together in trying to warm up to the cold Northern British atmosphere.

The north was never actively warm, which actively meant that late December would (as James would say) cause you to "Freeze your tits off", it got cold and dark quickly with wind and rain but alas no snow, snow was rare to see despite the country's cold atmosphere. It was a few days before Christmas as well; so instead of being home or in the base with friends- Porter, Mark 'Mute' Chandlar, Dominic ‘Bandit’ Brunsmeier, and Sébastien ‘Buck’ Côté had been sent to the Shetland isles in hope that they could work on developing a secret base so to speak just as a last resort. The place wasn't so bad- it was just extremely freezing but at least the town was quite nice. At the centre there were bright lights hanging from the olden wind beating buildings, a large festively decorated tree sat in the opening besides the shore. Moods were high throughout the few townsfolk they saw- 2 days before Christmas always brought either stress or glee, which you clearly could tell by how the people commuted.

"They're terrorists," Mute responded, "they hate happiness. Be thankful we're just sorting out a base."

Mark spoke in a tone that was almost as bitter as the northern air which prickled at James’ skin. ‘Even if the white masks didn’t kill us before we get to the base, the cold sure would have’ the Londoner thought. James didn’t get why they needed yet another base- they already had England and Greece, they were about to colonise an island in north Scotland next. Harry had insisted that the base was meant for training in ‘harsher environments’, and since Russia probably would say no to a military group that wasn’t theirs, the next best thing was Scotland.

“I still think we could have bribed Jordan to come,” The voice of the German operator piped up, as he and their Canadian coworker, Sébastian, jogged up the small hill with their kit.

Smoke turned his head towards the duo approaching, “And have him complaining nonstop?”

“Source of entertainment I call it.”

Buck looked at the three other operators, “what did I do wrong to be picked with you people?”

——

The trip was originally scheduled for the 4 operators to camp overnight, get a feel for the place and then decide whether it would make a decent enough area for training with harsher/colder environments. The harsher and colder had already been challenging before the group even reached their site- there was no denying that fact. Sébastian had been the only one who hadn’t complained yet, that was until a certain shorter than average Brit accidentally got his clothes wet.. which lead to Mark reluctantly lending Buck one of his hoodies. So the trip was going swell.

“If i give you £20 will you let me share your sleeping bag?”

“Piss off.”

After the request, James received an elbow to the his side- a smile growing oh his face but again they returned back to their quiet. Sounds of the ocean they sat lulled the silence, distant talking and cars came and went as the minutes went by.

“How’s lily?” For a change Mark initiated a conversation, putting his phone down on the grass besides him.

James let out a sigh, bringing a hand to go through his hair. He paused.

“I promised her this year I’d be with her for Christmas, like- the whole 2 weeks she gets off,” he started, turned to his hands which he was fiddling with his sleeves with. “I don’t know how Zofia can do it- do this and then be a mother. What kind of parent am I if I barely even see my kid?”

Silence once again filled the air, Mute leaned back- his arms supporting his body as he thought. He was never one for emotional conversations, he could ramble about computer science for hours but the second it gets touchy and feely- his brain shuts off. Mark turned to James who’s face was the opposite of how he usually was, a frown plastered on his lips and his normally bright eyes were tinted dimly.

“I’m sure she understands, it is your job after all. She’s 16; when I w-“

“-She’s not like you Mark,” James snapped, turning to face the younger, “You’re practically a child genius who has no manners socially, Lily’s... you know what the kid’s like.”

James nuzzled his chin into his scarf, in a way to both shut himself off and to try warm himself up before he started to cry and freeze his cheeks off. He never felt homesick, James loved his job, but he just hated that he couldn’t keep a promise.

“At least you’ll be with her for Christmas Day.”

The only response was a small breath and a nod.

——

Sharing a tent with 3 other men was not Sébastians initial plan for Christmas eve’s eve- likewise having to borrow one of the others’ clothes because his own got soaked by a prank. He knew he wouldn’t get to visit home this year but spending Christmas with his friends wasn’t so bad, Sébastian was just lucky he had managed to visit Canada for his birthday a few months prior.

“Fucking freezing out here,” the words of Dominic alerted Séb from his book, a hint of tiredness in his voice.

“It’s not too cold,” Buck smiled, moving in his seat besides the small campfire.

The German scoffed, “because you have a hoodie which is too big, a beanie and gloves. My gloves to be exact.”

“You offered.”

Dominic pushed Sébastian’s beanie over Séb’s face as he walked by to sit on the seat besides his teammate. A small laugh coming from him while he watched the Canadian huff when he reorganised his beanie.

“Before I forget; Harry called- there’s a storm coming to welcome us a merry Christmas,” Séb knew where this was going. Bandit dipped his head and then leaned back, “he thinks we’re going to be stuck here for a few days longer than expected.”

“Typical.”

Dominic kicked his legs up onto the stand besides the fire, “he did say we could stay at a friend of his rather than risk being killed by the high winds of Scotland.”

“How thoughtful.”

It wasn’t long until Mark and James returned, the news hit James hard; being in the middle of nowhere for Christmas was never ideal- at least they weren’t alone in the middle of nowhere.

James sighed, sitting up in his sleeping bag- the wind was already starting to pick up and the rain was battering the tens thin material. Silent breathing from the sleeping people continued, unfazed by the storm brewing. Smoke lay back down, staring at the green above him. Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach- anxiety from both Christmas being the next day and the fact he couldn’t keep a single promise towards his daughter. If only it wasn’t raining he could at least walk the nerves off.

—

“For professionals you all like to sleep in.”

A Scottish man let out a laugh, watching the four Rainbow operators crawl out of the tent in dampened clothes as the tent got ripped after something bumped into it due to the high winds the previous night.

“You try sleeping in a leaking tent,” The pleasant morning voice of Mute spoke, “then we can talk about ‘sleep in’.”

A hearty laugh came from the man, “well if it means anything, I’m sorry about your situation.”

Sébastian stepped up, apologising for the other three’s attitude- making some small chat to the Scottsman who was called Duncan.

—

“Hey Lilypad,” James stood in the hallway- looking around at the tinsel wrapped around the staircase, “so plans changed, I’m sorry.”

“You promised dad-“

“I know.. I know- there’s a storm and the boats been cancelled-“

Dominic appeared from the doorway, “Porter?”

“I’m coming,” James mouthed then turned to the phone,” I’ll hopefully be back for Boxing Day- we can get Gramps and everyone over. I’ll, I’ll make it up to you Lils.”

“It’s... Sorry’s not good enough okay?”

Before he could even mutter another ‘sorry’, the line went dead.

James sat on the staircase, letting his head fall into his hands. It was the one thing he and Lily had been looking forward too, 2 weeks together for Christmas and having the family over; god how he missed his own parents. A person slid down to sit a stair above, resting a comforting hand on James’ shoulder.

“Coming from someone who’s been through the same thing as Lily, she knows it’s not your fault,” the Quebec man let out a small laugh, “of course she’s hurt, but you’re her dad; she loves you and as long as you both have each other- she’ll forgive you. Just let her process.”

James nodded, inhaling a shaky breath. He patted the hand on his shoulder and stood up.

“Let’s make this a good Christmas from what we have,” he turned to Séb who promptly followed him down.

“You gehirnverweigerer! Just tell me what the fucking thing is! The zucker! STOP LAUGHING JUST TELL ME WHAT IT IS!” The voice of a very angry Dominic came from the kitchen.

Buck smiled and wrapped an arm around the English man, “Merry Christmas James.”

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

[atlantisaurum]

Lifetime

At 11pm he was digging up a hole in his own garden. Raindrops shattered on his face, mixing themselves under the tears, not to be distinguished here in the rain some February night in a year preceded by restless hours of isolation and pens in his hands, writing unspoken eulogies whenever he could not sleep. It´s hard to keep track of the order of all the deaths that happened throughout the last decade, all of his life.

Roots as thick as his forearms tormented his way down to a depth to lower the casket in, which he built, hoping it would make him feel less helpless, now, that another soul passed his still young being by. A flash light and an umbrella, held by his only remaining relative, kept him company next to a raging emptiness subsided by inner cries and screams. He had to keep digging otherwise it would be to late to do something, to help, to have a positive part in this inconvenient event in a row of even more inconvenient months.

Hope, first a stranger then a part of his family for 16 years, gone. Wryly and bitterly, he thought: “At least he doesn´t have to endure this anymore.” She cried night and day, crying for someone to give her love and company. His father gave it to her. Is there a place for humans and dogs next to the gods somewhere, anywhere that is not this place? Eternal solace and purity after one injection of sleep? Maybe they will find themselves together at a heavenly equivalent of north shore beaches of Germany in Spring and Autumn. “It doesn´t matter.” Nothing could sooth this loss, this last connection to his father. Sure, there still was the house, three times as old as him, built by his father blood, sweat and tears. It´s just not the same – empty, lonelier even more after his grandmother´s passing. Occupying her old room simply made him colder and his heart more cynical.

Hours passed before he was done digging this testimony of a lost cause, a withered away duo of a family. They lowered the baby-sized casket into the hole. He was silent, only muttering abbreviations of sentences and words as answers in the general direction of his blabbering mother. There are more than two ways to cope with situations like these. He and his mother lingered on opposite sites of the spectrum. One either turns into their parents or into the complete opposite. Both of his parents, marvellous in their own ways, imperfect as every other being as well. He feared to turn out like either of them. Where does one find the balance between obnoxiously loud and forever shut inside ones own head?

Fear and a promise urged his life forward for an unbearable amount of time. Stretched so thin he wasn´t even a person anymore. If one isn´t a person one will forget how to cry.

But he cried, at least he thought so or hoped so. Not crying meant it would kill him at some other point further in the future. He couldn´t bear it. When does it ever stop?

Continuously, every other week or month, he asked himself why he was the person he turned out to be. For these questions, bitter and melancholy answers are at hand but never satisfying enough to keep the doubts and hate from lurking back into his mind. Why couldn´t he accept a shoulder to cry on? It is simply easier to be quite than to explain anything at all. Every book, every last poem, piece of prose has its origins and its far fetched interpretations and general analysis but nothing that is not an exact copy of the authors mind can never fully explain the words felt and written.

Nothing ever will have enough matter to fill a black hole. It will suck in everything surrounding it, turning it into lifeless, non-existent, meaningless and fleeting occurrences. “It doesn´t matter”, he thought again. “My body is real, so is this soon to be covered in unwanted weeds and white wild flowers now filled up hole.” This existentialistic thought scratched at the walls of his head, ripping the wallpaper off and leaving behind but a white space once touched but now an unlovable place for non-permanent acquaintances of his life. Nothing stays, nothing lasts. `This too shall pass.´ But it never really seems that way in these awfully long lasting moments. Tomorrow he would still be existing and had to live the life given to him unasked for and unwillingly lead from crisis to crisis.

Soon, he knows, he would forget the tone of his dogs voice and the vibrancy of her fur in winter. So many memories repressed so he was able to breathe.

At 3am he opened the door of his car, leather gloves on his hands, but he knew his knuckles turned white by the way his hands started cramping after uncountable minutes of just holding onto the steering wheel, not even driving, just sitting, trying not to break down into even smaller pieces. His life was spread all over the globe, one chipped piece at a time. America, France, Spain, Italy, Germany - an endless list of places covered in blood only he could see. There was nowhere to go.

He turned the key around and starting driving. No specific aim, goal or place to end up at – driving simply so he wouldn´t be anywhere any time at all. Constantly moving in order not to linger.

A lightning struck above his head, enlightening the hardened lines of his face. He knew the roads, where they would eventually lead him. Every path has its end, every turn he made unconsciously brought him closer to where his heart needed to be in that very moment, after all of this morbid digging and the cries of his mother still ringing in his ears. A trip he had taken one too many times that led him to the grim realisation that he made a crucial mistake at being a person befriending another one. Taking anything, anyone in particular, for granted. Nothing ever is granted. Everything is temporary, time is fleeting and the air passing every single being by is only a recollection of what had been, could have been and something of what may never be.

The car seemed to shiver as he turned left and drove up the agricultural road, opening the scenery up to see a horizon waiting for the sun to touch its colours and tint it with its warm beams. He turned off the car. The breath he took did not help his lungs to steady themselves. Heavy was the weight sitting on his chest as the tried to open the door and begged his legs and feet to move him out of the car, onto the mushy and dirty field, awaiting the light of the new day to come.

His feet sunk into the dirt, covering his shoes in mud and torn off grass. “It doesn´t matter”, he thought again. “No one ever profited off of Nihilism.” He moved to the front of the car and leaned again the it, feet still on the ground. He needed to feel the ground beneath him, needed to feel the connection to something that wouldn´t die on him. “We´re killing this planet.” But the earth always had the remarkable ability to recover from any form of human interference. Chernobyl, only 30 years later nature recovered, animals repopulated themselves and it is now a fully functional and living place for nature and its inhabitants. But who is a boy compared to the wonders of the earth? Everyone can only ever endure and hope the pain eases. What is the last straw?

Miserable to his core, sinking deeper into the mud, the sun started to rise. Fog appeared at the horizon behind the trees in the forest that was before him. He couldn´t even count anymore how many girls he had taken to this place. He didn´t even know why he had taken them in the first place. To impress, to share, to show sparks of depth that he usually would not let anyone see? He was fooling himself. He took them them just so didn´t feel as lonely as he did now seeing this astonishing view all by himself, wondering why no one stayed long enough to see the sun set again with him. He could never to honest with himself. Lies followed lies followed lies followed by a dead end. So many things had ended when he had tried to fix them. “You cannot keep lying to everyone just because it seems like it is more convenient for you. If you keep lying, you´ll get lost in your lies and might never find your way back to the truth and to those who are sincere”, she had said to him once. “I´m sick of being treated like a secret. Stand for what you do, whom you´re with and why.” How was he supposed to tell the truth if he did not even knew it himself?

Truth is simple once one acknowledges that anything that differs from its pure form will ultimately lead one into a false perception of reality. Reality, just as time, is relative. Factual reality and emotional reality are two completely different things. “I cannot stay here”, he muttered, got back into his car and took off.

[kyber-kisses]

Toes in the Sand

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: it be both fluffy and angsty. prepare for feels.

Summary: Dean was always talking about how he wanted to go to the beach with you, Sam, and Cas. But things don’t always go as planned.

A/n:This has been sitting in my drafts for ages and I finally finished it! I hope yall enjoy, and please tell me what you thought!

You never thought in a million years that you would actually make it. That you would get to have an actual vacation. For hunters, that wasn’t usually something that was in the books for them. . . But here you were, toes in the sand and sitting next to your favorite person in the whole world. It almost felt like a dream.

Dean let out a sigh, leaning back on his hands as he stretched his legs out, the heels of his feet digging into the slowly cooling sand. “This nice. I’m glad we decided to do this.”

“Agreed. Are Sam and Eileen still on that scenic hike?”

“Hell if I know.” Dean shrugged, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, soaking in the final rays of the setting sun.

The sky before you was painted a light apricot color, streaks of dusty pink mixing together to form a spectacular sunset as the blazing orange ball of fire began to sink below the palm trees to the west. Somewhere in the distance a band of katydids and crickets struck up a tune, the sound mixing perfectly with the gentle crash of waves hitting the beach. The water itself was a beautiful turquoise blue that put other shades to shame.

For the first time, in a very long time, everyone was relaxed. It was almost eerie in a way. You had gotten so used to the stress of hunting that the feeling was foreign. . . But you welcomed it greatly.

“We should probably start heading back.” You sighed, brushing the sand off your hands as you stood up.

The Winchester besides you let out a groan, grabbing onto the hand that you extended to him so you could pull him up, “Do we have to?”

Letting out a light laugh, you kept your fingers tangled with his, beginning your walk down the shore line, “Yes, we do. We promised we would meet back up with Sam and Eileen for dinner.”

“Right.”

A soft breeze rippled across your skin as you walked, making the loose fabric against you flutter slightly. The tropical printed shirt was about two sizes too big for you, but it worked as an excellent cover up, plus, it was almost an identical match to the one Dean was wearing. Though he would never admit it out loud, you knew he loved it.

“At some point, I’m gonna have to take you surfing.” You smiled, eyes shifting to watch the whitecaps on the horizon.

“You know how to surf?” Dean questioned, turning to look at you with a slightly shocked expression.

“Yeah, when I was younger and living with my aunt for a few months, she taught me. I got good at it pretty quick.” You shrugged, feeling your feet sink into the wet sand as the tide came in, soaking your ankles.

“Okay, but me on a board? That’s just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, Winchester.”

“Alright. Fine.” Dean smiled, leaning over to plant a soft kiss to your temple.

Up ahead, you watched as a group of sandpipers danced across the sand, their little legs taking them quickly towards the retreating tide. The small shorebirds undoubtedly going in search of food.

“Are you happy, Dean?” You spoke suddenly, tearing your eyes away from the birds to look up at him. When he locked eyes with you, you felt your breath catch in your throat. The usual dullness in his eyes was gone, once again filled with the vibrant green you had missed so much.

He smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he did, “Yeah, yeah I’m happy. Are you?” He breathed, giving your hand another squeeze.

You nodded, finding his smile to be infectious as he looked at you with that oh so familiar soft gaze. It felt like someone was waving sparklers inside your chest. You could feel the white hot stars jumping off of them.

He was happy.

You almost caught him off guard when you stopped in your tracks, moving to the latch your arms around him, pulling him into an earth shattering hug.

“Woah! What’s this for?” He wheezed, not hesitating to wind his arms around your waist, resting his chin in the crook of your neck.

“I just love you. That all.”my mumbled, breathing in the scent of the coconut body wash he had been using, “and I’m glad that you're happy.”

You allowed Dean to pull away after a moment, his jade irises locking onto you with what could only be described as full adoration, and then he was sealing his lips against your own. His arms stayed locked around your waist as he picked you up, spinning you around with a light laugh against your lips.

He seemed so much younger in that moment. Like he hadn’t just lived through a lifetime of pain and monsters. There was something almost childlike to it all.

“Y/n, don’t leave. Not yet. Not like this.” Dean spoke suddenly, setting you back down on the damp sand.

Drawing you eyebrows together, you tilted your head, looking up at him, “What are you talking about? I’m right here-“

And then the landscape flickered.

The apricot sky fizzled out, and the palm trees faded into nothing, drowning you in a starless night sky. The breeze suddenly much cooler. A clap of thunder overhead made you jolt, successfully drowning out the harsh crash of waves momentarily. There was a storm nearby. You could smell it in the air.

It was all so loud, and frightening and nothing like the paradise you were just living in.

You tried moving, but you were suddenly stopped short by a pair of hands gripping your shoulders, “Y/n, I need you to stay still for me, okay?”

Dean.

Through blurred vision, you blinked, trying to take in your surroundings.

“What’s happening? Where are we?” You breathed.

And then you felt it. The pain rippling through your body in dense waves. Slowly, you raised a shaky hand to your abdomen, immediately regretting it when your finger grazed the deep gashes. You let out a sharp yell, head falling back onto the sand.

You were injured. Badly.

“It hurts. God, it hurts so much.” You breathed, unable to fight the pain coursing through your body.

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. Just stay with me.” Deans voice was heavy with panic as he looked down at you. The flannel he had used earlier to try and slow the bleeding was now completely stained crimson.

He should have been more alert. The werewolves had come almost out of nowhere, completely catching you guys off guard.

This was all his fault.

You flinched at the sudden contact of a calloused set of hands cradling your face, Deans silhouette hung over you, his face drawn up in worry.

“Y/n, I need you to stay awake okay? I need you to stay awake for me.”

“Where are we?”

“Ludington, remember? We were hunting a couple of werewolves.” His voice shaky as he tried to explain it to you.

And then it all came flooding back to you, and suddenly you were drowning in memories. You were never on vacation. You, Sam and Dean had gone to work a werewolf case up in north western Michigan. You eventually ended up chasing a couple of them down the beach.

You remembered passing by an empty boardwalk, and an old playground partially lit up by yellow tinted street lamps. There was a slide. The kind that was made of metal and was a nightmare on stilts during the summer. The kind that you looked at and knew that if you slid down it, your shorts and skin would undoubtedly catch fire.

You don’t know why you latched on to that recent memory, but you did.

And then you realized what had happened after that. They were stronger than you had predicted. The claws sharper than you remembered. And the pain worse than ever.

The gashes on your stomach. That’s what they were from. A werewolf.

“Y/n, dammit! I need you to listen to me!” Deans voice cracked again as he lightly slapped your face, pulling your attention towards him.

“Sam. Where is Sam? Is he okay?” You muttered, feeling your body slowly begin to relax. This wasn’t good.

“He went to go get the car. Your losing a lot of blood, y/n. I need you to stay awake.” He demanded, desperately trying to hide the fear in his tone. Even through the darkness and your slowly blurring vision, you could see the panic in his eyes.

“You were so happy.” Your breath coming out shallow as you spoke, mind going back to the paradise you had been residing in.

“What?”

You took a shallow breath, wincing as another wave of pain shot up your body. God, you were tired. You were so tired. And cold. Very, very cold.

“On the beach. You kept holding my hand.” You sighed, your body growing heavier by the minute.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re always talking about how you want to go on a vacation. Somewhere tropical. . .I dreamt about it.” You swallowed slowly, feeling the first tears race down the side of your face to collect on the damp sand. “We were wearing matching Hawaiian shirts. We were happy.”

Dean had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking down in sobs. You were losing so much blood, and he had no clue how long it would be until Sam got here. One of his hands fell from your face, reaching for your hand. The color was beginning to drain out of your features and you had a dazed, yet sad look in your eyes. You were fading quickly, he could feel it in his bones.

He needed to keep you talking, keep you awake. “Tell me more about it.” He breathed, squeezing your hand, which you returned, except with only a quarter of the force.

“Sandpipers. They kept strutting across the sand. You found them amusing. I thought it was adorable.” You smiled weakly, eyelids growing heavy as you looked up at him.

“Sound about right.” He chuckled, his own eyes darting down to the deep gashes torn into your stomach.

With each passing second, he was getting closer and closer to losing you.

“Maybe when I’m better, we can go.” You mumbled. You couldn’t feel the pain anymore. You were just numb now. It almost felt like you were drifting in the waves that were just out of reach from where you lay.

“Yeah, yeah let’s do that. You, me, Sam and Cas. Eileen too. A proper vacation.” Dean nodded, feeling his own tears leave his cheeks to collect on yours. His thumb moving to stroke them away and his breathing quickened, “Toes in the sand, how bout that?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but instead you were taken over by a small fit of coughs, the taste of copper flooding your mouth. You were burning at the very end of your wick now. You weren’t going to make it. But at least you didn’t hurt anymore.

Dean had never known fear like this before as he looked down at you, lips painted crimson as you continued to cough up blood. As gently as he could, he shifted from his position, wrapping his arms underneath you so he could partially pull you into his lap, your head resting in the crook of his elbow.

“It’s okay. I got you. I’m right here.” He swallowed, trying not to let his voice crack as he looked down at you. He needed you to know that you weren’t alone. That he was still with you.

His heart was breaking off in pieces though, as he kept his gaze on you. There was nothing he could do to help you here. He had no clue how long it would be until Sam got here.

Mustering what strength you had left in you, you raised a shaky hand, resting you palm against his cheek, his big green eyes full of pain as he looked down at you.

“Toes in the sand.” You smiled weakly, using the pad of your thumb to wipe away the tears trailing down his cheek.

You took another shallow breath, the air coming out shaky, and your hand slid from his face, and the last bits of his heart that had been breaking shattered.

“No,no,no y/n stay with me! I need you to stay with me!” He breathed, panic seeping into his bones as he went into begging mode, slightly shaking you in his arms. “Just for a little longer, please.” His voice cracked.

But deep down, he knew it was too late. Your breathing had stilled, mouth still partially open as your eyes glazed over, the light in them flickering out.

Dean tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he shook his head in defeat, his forehead coming to rest against you own, “Don’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.”

It was ten minutes later that Sam found his brother in that same position, his arms locked around you as he held you against his chest, his lips pressed to your temple as his eyes remained shut, in fear that if he opened them the tears wouldn’t stop falling.

The younger Winchester let his feet carry him quickly across the sand, falling to his knees in front of him, “Dean, is she still ali-“

“No. She gone.” He sighed, moving once more to rest his head against yours.

Sam slid his hand into your limp one, squeezing it lightly he tried to fight back his own tears, “I’m sorry. I tried to get here as fast as possible.”

Dean slowly shook his head, his jaw clenching almost as if it were a shock absorber for his pain. You were supposed to live. You were supposed to be happy and full of life. Not an empty shell in his arms. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Slowly he opened his eyes, looking down at you. He had closed your lids, hoping it would make it look like you were sleeping. . . But it didn’t work. He brushed a stand of loose hair away from your face, fingers skimming over the cool skin.

“I’ll see you on the other side. Toes in the sand.”

The End.

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[notesfromthefielddesk]

Episode 1 - Malinowski

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/6nIUBg5IthVY6F1caobf1N?si=04759ed73f474e39 

We hear the fizz of the surf and some seagulls

John

Imagine yourself set down surrounded by all your gear alone on a tropical beach, close to a native village, while the dinghy which brought you sails away out of sight.

Now imagine, you look down that beach and see a man. He’s sat behind a desk wearing a tweed suit. Is that a microphone? You head over to investigate and realise he is narrating your actions.

Hi! this is notes from the field desk.

Theme

John

Why don’t you grab a seat… I guess on the sand. I’d offer you a chair but honestly getting this one here was hard enough. It’s a good one though, one of those ones with lumbar support. I insisted on it.

I said “if i’m going to sit behind a desk on a tropical beach for months you better believe i’m having lumbar support.” The guys on the fishing boat were not impressed. You should have seen their faces when they saw the desk.

Oh.. I seem to be sinking in the sand a little, would you mind, yeah if you just grab the other side. (Skuffling) Okay should be good now.

Transport and sinking aside it’s a pretty good office though right? I know you can see it but do you mind if I just describe for the benefit of the tape?

I am sat on Maliu Island just off the coast  of Papua New Guinea. We’re at the North West Shoreline. It’s early morning the sun still rising. Looking out over the bay the lightly rippled sea shimmers in a thousand tints caught briefly on it’s continuously moving surface. In shallow spots amid turquoise vegetation, you see rich purple stones overgrown with weeds. Where the water is smooth unruffled by wind the sky and land are reflected in colours ranging from sapphire to the milky pink shadows of the mist enveloped coastline.

brief silence just washing of waves

John

I know what you’re thinking. Why the desk? I actually think this is a stroke of genius. I was talking to my supervisor, Susan, and she told me theres a debate in anthropology about the separation between field and desk.

You know anthropology? We’re like sociologists who like travel and hate maths.

Just so you know in academic circles that joke kills.

Anyway, apparently theres loads of articles about how anthropologists go to the field and they meet all people. Then they go back to their desks, in the universities and libraries and whatever. And then they write things that don’t relate to the people. Which makes going pointless in the first place. At least I think that’s what they were getting at, I sort of skimmed them, and they seemed to fit with this other idea of mine so… Sort of just ran with it.

My main idea, was that i’d recreate the research of the first anthropologist. Sort of a peer review, what did he get right, what did he get wrong. So i’m recreating “Argonauts of the Western Pacific” By Malinowski.

There were others before him, some old english blokes called Taylor and Frazer. Some people even say this Greek fella Herodetus was the first. But Malinowski was the first one to get the travel bit down. Before him most of these guys relied on reports they got from colonial officers or missionaries or even worse amateurs, usually wealthy people, running around writing nonsense.

Nowadays we’d call Taylor or Fraser armchair anthropologists. Taking the observations done by others and theorising about it. AKA philosophers, am I right?

Not a joke fan, noted.

Malinowski thought that the studies done before him were theoretically strong but the data unscientifically gathered. To successfully study the “other” you had to go and live with them see the world through their eyes. If you lived with them and participated in their community you could make objective observations about how their society worked. He said this becoming native was key and to achieve it you have to stay in the field for at least a year.

So the problem of early anthropology was people not leaving their desks to collect data, and the problem of modern anthropology is people leaving for the desk and forgetting the field. I thought two birds, one stone. I’ll bring the desk to the field.

(Disappointed) Oh. You were wondering about the tweed on a tropical island. Well in scientific study you control the variables right? If I want to see the Trobriand Islands like Malinowski did I need to recreate his experience. He was a posho, and in the photos he wore this weird colonial outfit which I couldn’t find but I figured this would work just as well.

Same deal with my travel route. I flew to Brisbane, not clear how he got there but we will say Brisbane was the starting point. I sailed up the coast from there to Cairns. From there I chartered a boat to Papua New Guinea. I’m not really a big boat guy and it was a lot longer than I expected so I was sick most of the way. But good news, so was Malinowski so we’ll count that as scientific accuracy.

We arrived pretty late at Port Moresby, the capital of Papua New Guinea. Malinowski doesn’t describe it but to be honest, I was a bit disappointed. It’s a massive city. I was sort of hoping to be far flung you know, cut off from civilisation the way Malinowski says you should be. I knew this was a risk though, in the intro to Argonauts Malinowski mentions that even back then in 1915 Native communities were melting away.

I tried to put my disappointment aside. After all, this wasn’t my final destination. And hey look at this, pretty cut off right? I took a car the following morning down the coast to Deba, I know that’s not how he would have done it but I couldn’t find a boat willing to take my desk. At Deba, I managed to bribe my way onto a fishing boat. Now here I am.

I know it’s not really the Trobriand Islands. But Malinowski hung around here and Moresby for a while and with the desk this is as far as I can get. I have now, in the words of Malinowski “spread my nets in the correct place” now it’s time to wait and see what falls into them.

Waves washing on the shore. Drag this out 10-15 seconds, see how it feels in the edit.

John

Seems like no-one coming. So Let’s go over some theory in the mean time. Don’t whine we’ll keep it light. You can paddle while I talk it’s mostly for my notes anyway.

Sound of someone paddling in sea

Malinowski was a functionalist, which means he thought all our social behaviour is an extension of our physical needs. He argued that thinking about it this way you could understand any behaviour, however strange, by understanding what need it filled.

Example, magic, weird right? Malinowski said no. It’s a response to emotional distress. When something bad happens that you can’t explain it’s comforting to fill that void of understanding, with Magic. Malinowski says that’s why magic persists in modern society. Like when you have a shit month and say it’s because mercury is in retrograde, it’s comforting even if you don’t fully believe it.

But this doesn’t just happen after the fact, participating in magic can make us feel like we’re in control of the future, which is strange and scary. That’s like saying “Next month Mercury is in retrograde get the incense ready.”

Remember that guy Frazer I talked about earlier? This is basically his theory of magic and religion. He said people realise they aren’t powerful enough to control nature so they ask higher powers to help. Malinowski loved Frazer, total fan boy, used to carry his book around, so it’s not surprising he borrows a lot of his ideas.

That other guy, Taylor, he would say we’ve advanced as a society beyond the need for magic. Through industrialisation we can control nature. Any magical belief left over in society was a “survival.” It used to serve a useful function in society but now it doesn’t, it’s just a silly ornament that we should throw out. Imagine a twitter atheist bro, “uhh horoscopes are stupid, haven’t you heard of this thing called science.”

Malinowski, not so much a fan of Taylor. He said no Taylor you dummy, society is functional. How can there be a social behaviour that doesn’t have a function. Doesn’t make sense. He said the function probably just changed to serve a different purpose.

Despite that little spat, they all basically agreed in an evolutionary perspective. That less advanced societies are what our society looked like in the past. By studying other people maybe it can help us understand the weird things we do now.

So i’m here to take an objective look at Malinowski’s objective look. A hundred years ago he was on the Trobriand Islands, so now they should look like the UK did in 1920. I suppose that big city at Port Moresby was a good sign they were right.

Oh shit, I’m actually late to teach my tutorial. Just gunna Skype in. In the mean time i’ll leave you with a recording of a passage from “Argonauts of the Western Pacific.”

Waves washing on shore maybe ten seconds

“The goal is, briefly, to grasp the native’s point of view, his relation to life, to realise his vision of his world. We have to study man, and we must study what concerns him most intimately, that is, the hold which life has on him. In each culture, the values are slightly different; people aspire after different aims, follow different impulses, yearn after a different form of happiness. In each culture, we find different institutions in which man pursues his life-interest, different customs by which he satisfies his aspirations, different codes of law and morality which reward his virtues or punish his defections. To study the institutions, customs, and codes without understanding the desires and feelings of these people is, in my opinion, to miss the greatest reward which we can hope to obtain from the study of man.

These generalities the reader will find illustrated in the following chapters. We shall see there the savage striving to satisfy certain aspirations, to attain his type of value, to follow his line of social ambition. We shall see him led on to perilous and difficult enterprises by a tradition of magical and heroical exploits, shall see him following the lure of his own romance. Perhaps as we read the account of these remote customs there may emerge a feeling of solidarity with the endeavours and ambitions of these natives. Perhaps man’s mentality will be revealed to us, and brought near, along some lines which we never have followed before. Perhaps through realising human nature in a shape very distant and foreign to us, we shall have some light shed on our own. In this, and in this case only, we shall be justified in feeling that it has been worth our while to understand these natives, their institutions and customs.”

Waves washing on shore for maybe ten seconds

John

Well…that was… an interesting tutorial. In the end we talked a lot about Malinowski’s diaries rather than argonauts. They were published in 1967, a while after he died. In part probably to protect his reputation, as it turns out. To be honest, I hadn’t read them in depth. But my students said they show he was kind of a racist. More like he was a racist, throughout. He curses the Trobriand Islanders, calls them lazy and stupid. Also it seems like all through his research he was bribing the islanders with tobacco to include him, and dance, or do magic. It all comes across… unscientific.

But I said to them, this is just his diary, his private thoughts. I’m sure, when he went to the field he was able to set his personal prejudice to the side and carry out good research.

They didn’t agree. First they said, objectivity wasn’t possible because people know their being watched and that changes things. They gave the example

From of a photo from Argonauts of the Western Pacific with the caption “A Ceremonial Act of the Kula." A shell necklace is being offered to a Trobriand chief. Behind the guy presenting the necklace is a row of six bowing boys, one of them sounding a conch. All the figures stand in profile, their attention apparently concentrated on the rite of exchange. But if you look again, you see one of the bowing Trobrianders is looking at the camera.

To be honest when you look at the other pictures, Malinowski does look awkwardly out of place. Hardly, a member of the community. And Malinowski definitely skewed the results with the bribes.  

Sorry, the tide is coming in and the waves are now washing onto my brogues. Would you mind helping me shift the desk a bit further up the beach.

General awkward moving the desk sounds.

Sorry where was I? Right, secondly, they said Malinowski was wrong. Those colonial officers and missionaries, it wasn’t that they couldn’t be objective because they weren’t scientists. But because nobody is objective, we’ve all got baggage, things that have happened to us that make us think a certain way.

He couldn’t just leave his racism in the diary because it effected the way he thought about everything. They said when you claim something is objectively true you’re really making a claim about authority.

Remember, before, how we were talking about the evolutionary stuff. They said that is based on the assumption that European civilisation was the peak of human society and everything else is on the same track to becoming that.

They said that’s what colonialism was, British people going around the world claiming they were the height of civilisation so they should be in charge. By being in charge they’d make them better. They called that “The White Mans Burden.” Not the students, the colonial officers. What Malinowkski’s diary proved was that he was just as prejudiced, just as guilty of this way of thinking. He saw them as savages and backwards, less evolved. and that wasn’t just a private opinion, that formed the basis of his theories.

I said, wasn’t that just cancel culture?

They groaned at that. One of them said really cancelling someone was just challenging the authority of their statements and actions. When Malinowski was “cancelled” it challenged the authority of colonial racism. Even if he only thought in private that the Trobriand Islanders were lesser it still effected how he treated them and described them. The same way it effected British colonial officers descriptions and treatment those they ruled.

That’s why anthropology is suspicious of objectivity, because objectivity is a claim to authority and authority leads to misrepresentation and mistreatment. In other words, arriving as an anthropologist and claiming to be able to see someone else society objectively is like saying “I’m big your small, I’m smart, you’re dumb and there is nothing you can do about it.”

They stumped me a bit at the end there, couldn’t really follow, but I did feel hurt. I said “if that’s all true and I’m replicating his work then how am I different from Malinowski. Am I a racist?” It got a bit awkward after that.

Still, I think there is some merit in what I’m doing. I’m not a racist. So I can asses Malinowski’s work, see the flaws. Societies still advance so, i’ll just see how things have changed, have they become like us? I told them I would carry on and prove I could be objective.

Anyway a lot to think about. [Phone ring]

John

Apparently, the students have complained. And Susan has reminded me that my contract requires I teach the tutorials in person. That this fieldwork was not cleared and that I have not done an ethics form. Further, she reminded me that the department does not subscribe to a teleological perspective. I asked what that meant and she said to do some fucking reading for once.

Still, Malinowski teaches us a lot. Fieldwork is still really important in anthropology, you’ve got to go and talk to people and understand their perspectives. That’s his lasting legacy more than the theoretical work. Plus, I suppose his diary teaches us that we should keep an eye on our assumptions. And remember that no matter what we do, like bring a desk to the field, we always sneak into our work. So maybe we should just be upfront about that.

So - would you mind helping to carry this desk to that village? I need to get back or i’ll get fired.

more desk moving noises

I just realised I never asked what you were doing here.

Really!? that’s disgrace-

Theme

This was notes from the field desk written by me John McGrail.  

This episode references

Clifford, John (1983) On Ethnographic Authority in Representations, No. 2 (Spring, 1983)

Dahl, Roald (1988) Matilda published by Jonathan Cape

Malinowski, Bronislaw (1922) Argonauts of the Western Pacific Routledge

Malinowski, Bronislaw (1948) Magic, Science and Religion Waveland Press

Malinowski, Bronislaw (1967) with introduction by Firth, Raymond (1989) A Diary in the Strict Sense of the Term Stanford University Press

Tylor, Edward Burnett (1871) Primitive Culture published by the Cambridge University Press

Young, Michael W. (2004) Malinowski: Odyssey of an Anthropologist 1884-1920 Yale University Press

The sounds were all taken from Freesound. If you can donate to them you totally should, I would not have been able to make this podcast without it.

The sounds were;

Water Lap by snog https://freesound.org/people/snog/sounds/67031/

Sand slidding out of shovel slowly by XfiXy8 https://freesound.org/people/XfiXy8/sounds/467301/

Tropical Ocean Waves » Mau U Mae Beach Waves by tombenedict https://freesound.org/people/tombenedict/sounds/397594/?page=2#comment

Tropical Island by rich wise https://freesound.org/people/richwise/sounds/451743/

The theme music was dark side of my students, posted by Mia Stodzwiekow created by Tadeusz Maszewski https://freesound.org/people/miastodzwiekow/sounds/341770/

[capricecarvalet]

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[alihsx]

Two drifters off to see the world...

Northeast USA with Davis, Early Summer, 2018

Light electronic beats of the Kygo and Sam Feldt variety thumped lightly through the car speakers as we drove northward along the asphalt grey roads of Route 7. This was our Kerouac moment. With our bags, our car (which we had rented for about 2 weeks) and each other, Davis and I had left Providence in Rhode Island about 2 days ago with a half-blurry sense of where we were headed. The only concrete thing we knew was the Airbnb we had reserved in Portland (the one in Maine), though that wasn’t until 8 or 9 days later so it was promptly thrown into the back of our minds.

I had insisted on a short detour southward to the shores of Newport before we headed towards the Green Mountains up north in Vermont. We read The Age of Innocence back in school and that secret kaleidoscopic world of Wharton’s gilded age had stood glittering in my mind ever since. 

And I realised, good books have such a marvellous effect. They gently tint the past with alluring shades of mystery and beauty such that when you actually walk, with your own two feet, through the intricate hallways that were painstakingly described and stand on top of the soil in front of the stone mansions that you had read about, it just becomes funny and strange how we end up making museums of things. 

“It seems cruel that after a while nothing matters... any more than these little things that used to be necessary and important to forgotten people, and now have to be guessed at under a magnifying glass and labelled: 'Use unknown."

Wharton was right about that. 

Time seemed so silly just then because all I wanted to do was dive in and soak up a lifetime of Wharton’s world, and yet all I could think about was that we had to get to our motel in Vermont by night. The reality was that, when pitted against practicalities of the world, anything worth everything romanticising about becomes worthless in less than an instant.

But on we go, trying instance after instance, road after road, to beat time and find our moon rivers. There's just such a lot of world to see.

[mumsports]

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Individuals are truly into their vehicles in Atlanta, and the suburban urban communities are very staggering, there are major areas of strength for a class, and a mind-blowing number of BMWs, Mercedes, Porsche, Cadillacs, and top-of-the-line SUVs. The midtown Metro region is very great also, as there are numerous experts, and gigantic stopping structures which are full all during the week - simply consider the number of structures Tramwell Crow possesses or every one of the large companies there.

When you get outside the Atlanta region the sticker costs can't be kept up with, yet I would submit to you that Savannah, Macon, Columbus, Augusta, and Valdosta are excellent also. Savannah Georgia presently has 400,000 individuals in the region, and it's not at all like the "Profound South" used to be, this is an area of strength for a class region. Likewise, assuming you are working here you will take note that there is a lot of work supply, and a lot of individuals as of now have auto enumerating abilities, making them ideal for a versatile vehicle wash business.

Likewise, Georgia is a simple spot to carry on with work, as long as you adhere to the guidelines for the DEP and keep the wash water out of their tempest channels. Around a long time back, I plunked down with a DEP provincial ecological control supervisor in Macon Georgia we discussed his difficulties, and the amount of opposition was not washing in a naturally right manner. This invited our organization, since we were keeping the guidelines, and the DEP chief was happy to send us references.

There are likewise an exceptionally enormous number of more modest urban communities all through Georgia, and it is very astonishing to converse with individuals there, and in these more modest towns everybody knows every other person, so on the off chance that you accomplish great quality work, the references simply continue to come. There are likewise areas of strength for a presence along the shore of Georgia, and obviously beyond Atlanta, and there is a Public Watchman base in Valdosta, a Flying corps Base beyond Macon, and another only north of Atlanta.

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[beyondthetemples-ooc]

I’m literally so excited to go to the ocean, though, that I’m literally feeling this magnetic pull under my skin, in the direction that I assume is the ocean.

(Update: I just checked. I’m feeling drawn north, northwest. That’s where the beach is! HELLLLA. Water woman for life, guys.)

Anyways, I decided I’m going to make it an evening trip~ One, the sun will be less direct, so hopefully, with liberal application (and re-application, and re-re-application) of spf60 sunscreen, I won’t risk getting sunburned as badly. The heat is also supposed to be less around 3-4 than it is right now (about noon-- it’s literally 90 degrees right now!), so that’ll be easier to bear while I’m waiting for the buses.

Plus, I really want to witness an ocean sunset...~<3

And, also? Meditation at sunset, twilight, dusk... is amazing. Entering the night-time is always when I become my most calm, alert, energized and sincere self. 

One of my most magical memories is the night I stood on the shore of Lake Erie, under a sea of stars, with the moon shimmering on the water. I was left alone for a moment. And I felt... The immensity. The eternity. The lights and smog to the Eastern shore may have tinted the horizon, but ultimately, they held no power here, over the moon, the stars, and the water. I felt myself a part of three worlds at once. Like straddling the veil. I wanted nothing more than to step into the water, and physically feel the pull of the tide... (But I was at a party, and I didn’t have clothes to change into... My mother wouldn’t have let me back in the car if I was wet. And unfortunately, there’s a good chance the water was grossly polluted, anyways.)

The moon and the ocean have an undeniable bond, though, and my bond with the moon is immense, It runs deep. Going into the water feels like coming home. Settling into the currents is like breathing, like a new heartbeat, like being swept up in a favorite song.

...Well, in case you can’t tell, I love water, and I love swimming.

I’ve also picked up, somehow, that the tides tend to be gentler in the evening? (No idea if that’s accurate or specific to any location, or where I picked it up from, but that information is In Me somehow.) So it’ll be quite nice for meditation.~

My only touch of sadness comes from the fact that I’ll have to leave by 9, 9:30 at the ABSOLUTE latest, to catch the last bus back. I’d love ot stay until well past sunset... but I really don’t have money for a Lyft. ;;

[capricecarvalet]

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Car detailing in North Shore offers a comprehensive approach to maintaining your vehicle’s appearance and value. This service encompasses both interior and exterior detailing, ensuring your car looks its best inside and out.

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[nosephineorlok]

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[banyodakiceset]

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