#Si Richardson

[digitalfountains]

Ashley Richardson, Shana Zadrick & Vendela Kirsebom by Robert Huntzinger

- SI Swimsuit, 1992

[magicarpedore]

Quand je regarde La Tosca pour la première fois sans rien connaître à l'histoire et qu'elle plante Scarpia.

[alapagedeslivres]

CHALLENGE Petit Bac 2024 : si j’avais participé… Ma première LIGNE aurait été...

Sur le blog de Light and Smell, j’ai découvert le Challenge Petit Bac 2024, défi créé pour la quatorzième édition par Enna lit, Enna vit. Découverte tardive qui ne m’a pas permis de m’inscrire à temps pour cette année mais qui m’a vivement intéressée. J’ai consulté toutes mes lectures de 2024 et j’ai essayé de trouver un titre par catégorie, l’objectif étant de remplir une ligne après l’autre,…

[emjayewrites]

the best gift • jules koundé one shot

SYNOPSIS: Jules and Maya celebrate Christmas together…Sequel to Turkey Day

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Maya Richardson (fc: Ebonee Davis)

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @cranberryjulce

Jules watched from his kitchen as his mother, Sophie, fussed over the already immaculate house for the third time that morning. Her nervous energy was palpable as she adjusted throw pillows and muttered in rapid French about wanting everything to be perfect for Maya's parents' first visit to Barcelona.

"Maman," Jules called out gently, "tout a l'air magnifique. Veuillez vous asseoir avant de porter un chemin dans mon sol” ("Mom, everything looks beautiful. Please sit down before you wear a path in my floor.")

Sophie turned to him, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Je veux juste qu’ils se sentent les bienvenus, mon chéri. Et mon anglais... ce n’est pas aussi bon que le français de Maya." ("I just want them to feel welcome, mon chéri. And my English... it's not so good like Maya's French.")

Jules smiled, remembering Maya's first meeting with his mother six months ago. Despite the language barrier, Maya had charmed Sophie with her attempts at French and her genuine interest in family photos of a young Jules. This time would be different though – Maya's parents would be joining them.

"Le Dr et M. Richardson vous aimeront, Maman. Tout comme Maya." ("Dr. and Mr. Richardson will love you, Maman. Just like Maya does.")

His phone buzzed with a text from Maya: "Just picked up my parents from the airport. Dad's already commenting on all the soccer stuff everywhere 😂 Be there in 30!"

Jules checked his watch. The timing would be tight – they had his match against Leganes that evening, and he'd need to leave for Camp Nou in a few hours.

The door opened exactly twenty-eight minutes later. Jules turned to find Maya beaming at him, her parents behind her looking jet-lagged but excited. Dr. Angela Richardson immediately moved to hug him while Miles Richardson extended his hand for a firm handshake that felt warmer than their first meeting at Thanksgiving.

"Welcome to Barcelona," Jules said, ushering them inside where his mother waited.

"Bonjour!" Sophie stepped forward, her smile bright if slightly nervous. "Welcome, welcome! Please, come in!"

Maya hugged Sophie warmly, switching to French. "Sophie, c'est si bon de vous revoir!"

Sophie's face lit up at the familiar language, and she launched into rapid French that had Maya nodding along, occasionally asking for clarification.

"Your home is beautiful," Angela said, looking around the modern space with its floor-to-ceiling windows displaying Barcelona’s skyline. "And what a view!"

"Merci," Sophie replied, then looked at Jules for help.

"Maman helped me decorate," Jules explained. "She has much better taste than I do."

Miles was examining the wall of Jules' framed jerseys – his first Bordeaux shirt, his Sevilla kit, and several Barcelona and French national team jerseys. "Quite a collection you've got here, son."

"Those are just the special ones," Maya said proudly. "You should see the storage room."

Jules led them on a tour of the house, ending in the kitchen where Sophie had prepared a light lunch of quiche, salad, and fresh bread. She'd been cooking since dawn, determined to make a good impression.

"This is delicious, Sophie," Angela said after her first bite of quiche.

Sophie looked to Jules for translation, beaming when he conveyed the compliment. "Merci beaucoup! C'est une recette de ma grand-mère."

The conversation flowed surprisingly well despite the language barrier, with Maya and Jules acting as translators when needed. Miles, to everyone's surprise, revealed he'd been using a language learning app to pick up basic French.

"Merci pour le repas," he said carefully, making Sophie clap in delight.

All too soon, Jules had to leave for the stadium. "I've arranged for a car to take you to Camp Nou," he told Maya's parents. "Maya knows where the family box is, and Maman will be with you."

"Good luck, baby," Maya said, kissing him quickly. "Show Daddy what real football looks like."

"That's right," Miles added with a grin. "Show me what all this fuss is about."

Three hours later, Jules stood in the tunnel at Camp Nou, waiting to walk out onto the pitch. He knew Maya and their parents were up in the family box – Maya had sent a photo of them all together, his mother and Maya's parents wearing Barcelona scarves, Miles looking slightly bemused but game.

The match itself was electric. Jules had always played well with Maya in attendance, but having both their families watch seemed to elevate his game even further. In the thirty-seventh minute, he made a crucial sliding tackle that started a counterattack, leading to Barcelona's first goal. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but he could have sworn he heard Maya's distinctive voice among the 90,000 fans.

Barcelona won 2-0, with Jules putting in a man-of-the-match performance. After the game, he found their families waiting in the designated area for players' guests. Miles' expression had changed from polite interest to genuine excitement.

"Now that," he said, pulling Jules into a surprise hug, "was something else, son! That tackle in the first half? Reminded me of my playing days, except you got right back up and started the attack!"

Maya was practically bouncing with pride, while their mothers chatted animatedly despite the language difference, Sophie's hands flying as she tried to explain something about the game's tactics.

"See?" Maya whispered to Jules. "Daddy's coming around to soccer."

"Football," Jules corrected with a grin.

The next few days passed in a blur of sightseeing and family meals. Jules showed them his Barcelona, not just the tourist spots but the hidden gems he'd discovered since moving to the city. Sophie took Angela shopping in the boutiques along Passeig de Gràcia, while Miles surprised everyone by developing a deep appreciation for Spanish wine.

On their last evening in Barcelona, before flying to Atlanta for Christmas, they had dinner at a small Catalan restaurant Jules loved. Watching their parents interact, seeing Maya laugh at something his mother said in broken English, Jules felt a certainty settle over him. The small velvet box that had been hiding in his home since before Thanksgiving seemed to burn in his mind.

The flight to Atlanta was long but comfortable, with Jules arranging for first-class tickets for everyone. His mother dozed most of the way, while Maya worked on her dissertation, occasionally asking Jules to help her with some Spanish terms.

Christmas in Atlanta was everything Sophie had hoped for and more. The Richardsons' home was decorated magnificently, with a enormous tree in the family room and lights everywhere. Jules' mother was immediately absorbed into the controlled chaos of the Richardson women's holiday preparations, her limited English forgotten as she and Angela communicated through the universal language of cooking.

On Christmas Eve, after returning from the candlelight service at the Richardsons' church, Jules asked Miles if they could speak privately. Maya was helping her mother in the kitchen, and Sophie was engaged in what appeared to be a spirited game of charades with Maya's brothers and their wives.

Miles led Jules to his study, a warm room lined with books and family photos. He sat behind his desk, a knowing look in his eyes.

"Sir," Jules began, then paused to gather his thoughts. "Mr. Richardson..."

"Miles," Maya's father corrected gently. "I think we're past 'Mr. Richardson' now, don't you?"

Jules smiled, some of his nervousness easing. "Miles. I wanted to speak with you about Maya."

"I had a feeling this conversation was coming," Miles leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Ever since Thanksgiving, actually."

Jules straightened in his seat. "I love your daughter, sir – Miles. She's the most remarkable person I've ever known. She challenges me, supports me, makes me laugh... makes me better. And I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"And the distance? Your career? Her career? Have you thought about all that?"

"Every day," Jules replied honestly. "We've talked about it extensively. Maya's dissertation defense is in three months, and she's already been offered a position at the Universitat de Barcelona. It's not just me asking her to fit into my world – we're building our world together."

Miles was quiet for a long moment, studying the young man before him. Finally, he smiled. "You know, when Maya first told us she was dating a professional soccer player – football player," he corrected himself with a chuckle, "I was worried. Worried about the lifestyle, the distance, the culture differences. But watching you with her, with our family, with your mother... you're a good man, Jules. You see Maya for who she is, and you love her for it."

He stood up and walked around the desk, placing a hand on Jules' shoulder. "You have my blessing, son. Though something tells me Maya would say yes regardless."

Jules laughed, relief flooding through him. "She would. But having your blessing means everything."

"Have you thought about how you're going to ask?"

"I have some ideas," Jules admitted. "But I'd appreciate your input..."

They talked for another hour, Miles sharing stories about his own proposal to Angela, offering suggestions, and finally showing Jules an old family photo album. When they emerged from the study, Maya raised an eyebrow at them suspiciously, but Jules just kissed her temple and joined in the charades game, his heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

Christmas morning dawned bright and slightly cold. Sophie was overwhelmed by the American Christmas traditions – the mountains of presents, the matching pajamas Angela had gotten for everyone (even managing to find some in Jules' size), the seemingly endless supply of food.

"C'est magnifique," she kept saying, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.

Jules watched Maya help his mother understand the rules of the gift exchange, translating when needed, treating Sophie with the same easy affection she showed her own mother. The ring box was still hidden back at home, waiting for the perfect moment he and Miles had discussed the night before. But watching Maya now, radiant in her Christmas pajamas, teaching his mother how to say "Merry Christmas, y'all" in her best Southern accent, Jules knew he'd made the right decision.

That afternoon, while Sophie was helping Angela in the kitchen, several of Maya's cousins who hadn't met Jules' mother yet arrived. DeAndre was the first to notice Sophie as she emerged from the kitchen, wiping flour off her hands on a festive apron and chatting animatedly in French with Maya.

"Wait, hold up," DeAndre said, looking between Jules and his mother. "You're mixed?"

Before Jules could respond, MJ's hand connected with the back of DeAndre's head with a soft thwack. "Man, where are your manners?"

"I was just asking!" DeAndre protested, rubbing his head.

Jules laughed, used to the question by now. "Yes, my mother is French – white French," he clarified with an amused smile. "My father is from Benin."

"That's why he got that good hair," Trey joked, earning himself a slap from Michael this time.

"Y'all are embarrassing," Michael sighed, but there was fondness in his exasperation.

Sophie, who had been watching the exchange with curious eyes, leaned toward Maya. "Qu'est-ce qu'ils disent?"

Maya translated the conversation, making Sophie laugh. "Ah, oui! Jules' father... très beau homme," she said in her limited English, making everyone chuckle.

"See? Ms. Sophie gets it," DeAndre grinned, seemingly recovered from his earlier scolding. "Beautiful people make beautiful people."

Later that evening, as both families gathered in the family room for games and dessert, Jules caught Miles' eye. Maya's father gave him a subtle nod and raised his glass in a quiet toast. Across the room, Maya was teaching Sophie how to play Spades, while Angela and the rest of the family cheered them on.

"Je suis très heureuse," Sophie said to Jules quietly, watching Maya with obvious affection. "Elle est parfaite pour toi."

"Oui, Maman," Jules replied. "Elle l'est."

The rest of the visit passed too quickly, filled with more family meals, impromptu dance parties (Sophie proving surprisingly adept at line dancing), and quiet moments that felt like snapshots of their future together. When it was time for Jules and his mother to return to Barcelona, the goodbyes were emotional.

"You come back soon," Angela said, hugging Sophie tightly. "Family doesn't need language to understand each other."

Sophie, tears in her eyes, hugged her back. "Oui, famille," she then managed in English. "Family."

Miles shook Jules' hand, then pulled him into a hug. "Take care of yourself, son. And remember what we talked about."

"I will," Jules promised, catching Maya's curious look. "Thank you... for everything."

On the plane back to Barcelona, Sophie dozed against Jules' shoulder, exhausted but happy. His phone buzzed with a text from Maya: "Missing you already. But I'll see you in three weeks for my conference in Madrid ❤️"

Jules smiled, already planning how he would transform their Madrid weekend into something unforgettable. But that was a story for another day.

"Étaient-ils ce que vous attendiez?" he asked his mother.

Sophie opened her eyes, smiling. "Ils sont de la famille," she said simply. "Et Maya... elle sera la plus belle mariée."

"Maman!" Jules laughed, but didn't disagree. After all, mothers always knew best.

Three weeks later, Maya was in her hotel room in Madrid, getting ready for what Jules had told her would be "just a nice dinner" to celebrate the successful presentation of her research at the conference. She had no idea that Jules had spent the last month planning every detail of this evening, or that both their families were anxiously waiting for news.

In their year and a half together, she'd grown used to Jules' thoughtful gestures and reverent attention, but something about tonight felt different.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Jules: "Car will pick you up in 15 minutes. Can't wait to see you ❤️"

Maya smoothed down her dress – a deep emerald number that she knew Jules loved – and checked her reflection one last time. Her bohemian braids were styled in an elegant updo with the curly strands purposely hanging out, small golden earrings catching the light when she moved.

The car took her through the twinkling streets of Madrid to a historic building in the city center. When she stepped out, Jules was waiting, looking devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored suit.

"You look beautiful, mon cœur," he said softly, kissing her cheek and offering his arm.

The restaurant was intimate and elegant, but instead of heading to the main dining room, Jules led her up a private staircase to a rooftop terrace. Maya gasped as they emerged into what looked like something from a fairy tale. Hundreds of tiny lights were strung overhead, creating a canopy of stars. White roses – her favorite – were everywhere, their sweet scent mixing with the crisp winter air. A single table was set for two, with champagne already chilling.

"Jules," she breathed, taking it all in. "This is..."

"Too much?" he asked, suddenly looking nervous in a way she rarely saw on the football pitch.

"Perfect," she finished, squeezing his hand.

They sat down to a meal that somehow combined French cuisine with touches of Southern comfort food – a detail that made Maya's heart swell with love for this man who always thought of everything. As they finished their main course, Jules grew quieter, more contemplative.

"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asked suddenly.

Maya laughed. "Of course. At that charity event in London. You were so serious until I made that terrible joke about football existing during Shakespeare's time."

"'To kick, or not to kick,'" Jules quoted, grinning at the memory. "It was the worst joke I'd ever heard. But your smile..." He paused, taking her hand across the table. "Your smile made me forget every smooth line I'd practiced in English."

"You'd practiced lines?" Maya teased.

"Mmhmm. None of them as bad as your joke, though." He stood up, still holding her hand. "But that's what I love about you. You make me laugh, you challenge me, you support me... you see me, not just the footballer or the public figure, but me."

Maya's heart began to race as Jules moved to stand beside her chair. "Jules..."

"I talked to your father at Christmas," he continued, and then he was down on one knee, producing a small velvet box from his jacket. "Because while I know you're perfectly capable of making your own decisions, I also know how much family means to you. To us."

Maya's free hand flew to her mouth as Jules opened the box, revealing a stunning ring that somehow managed to be both elegant and unique – just like them.

"Maya Simone Lynette Richardson," Jules said, his French accent wrapping around her name the way it had since the day they met, "you make every day better just by being in it. You've brought so much joy and love into my life, and if you'll let me, I want to spend the rest of my days trying to do the same for you." He took a breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Will you marry me?"

Through tears of joy, Maya managed to nod. "Yes," she whispered, then louder, "Yes, yes, absolutely yes!"

Jules' hands shook slightly as he slipped the ring onto her finger, then pulled her into a kiss that felt like a promise of forever. When they finally parted, the waiters who had been discretely waiting burst into applause, and champagne appeared as if by magic.

"I love you," Maya said, admiring how the ring caught the light. "And I can't wait to see what Sophie and my mama do with wedding planning."

Jules groaned good-naturedly. "They've already started, believe me. Your mother and mine have been texting on WhatsApp for weeks."

Maya laughed, the sound carrying across the Madrid rooftop like music. "Of course they have."

As they celebrated under the canopy of lights, with the Madrid skyline twinkling around them, Jules felt a profound sense of rightness. Their lives might be complex, stretched between continents and cultures, but their love was simple and true. And really, that was all that mattered.

Later that night, after Maya had FaceTimed both their families (who, to no one's surprise, were all gathered at the Richardsons' house waiting for news), she curled into Jules' side and said, "You know what this means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"You're officially officially part of the family now. No backing out of Homecoming next year."

Jules laughed, pulling her closer. "Wouldn't dream of it, future Mrs. Koundé."

"Dr. Maya Richardson-Koundé," she corrected with a smile.

"Even better," he agreed, and kissed her again.

August 2025….

The historic Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta had never seen such a blend of cultures, but on this warm August morning, the sacred space buzzed with an energy that transcended language and tradition.

Jules stood in a side room, adjusting his bow tie for the hundredth time. The past few months had been a whirlwind since he'd posted that simple photo of Maya's hand with the ring, captioned only with a heart emoji. His Instagram had exploded – teammates sending congratulations in multiple languages, fans ranging from supportive to devastated ("It should've been me! 😭"), and even a few celebrities chiming in. Maya had taken it all in stride, her academic's analytical mind finding humor in the social media frenzy.

"Bro, stop fidgeting," Aurélien said, slapping Jules' hands away from his tie. "You look perfect. Though not as perfect as some of these wedding guests I saw walking in..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Jules shook his head, grinning. Some things never changed. "Behave yourself. These are Maya's family friends."

"I'm just saying, Atlanta's reputation is well-deserved," Aurélien defended, then whistled low as he peeked out the door. "The hats alone..."

Indeed, the church was a sea of elaborate hats and fans, church mothers dressed in their Sunday best having arrived early to claim prime viewing spots. Jules could hear their voices carrying through the walls, a melodic mix of excited chatter and occasional "Well, bless his heart" when someone mentioned how nervous the groom must be.

The media attention had been intense at first. Maya's academic credentials and their cultural backgrounds made them a source of fascination. But they'd managed it carefully, keeping their private life private while sharing just enough to satisfy public interest. Maya had given one interview to El País, conducted entirely in Spanish, that had won over even the most skeptical Barcelona fans.

"It's time," Reverend Richardson, Maya's grandfather, appeared at the door. He would be performing the ceremony, adding another layer of significance to the day.

Jules took his position at the altar, Aurélien beside him as best man, along with his other groomsmen including several teammates and childhood friends. The church was packed, every pew filled with a perfect blend of their two worlds – his football family alongside Maya's extended clan, French relatives mixed with Southern aunties fanning themselves with wedding programs.

The music shifted, and the wedding party began their entrance. Jules watched as Maya's cousins and friends glided down the aisle in deep burgundy dresses, followed by her sister-in-law as matron of honor. Then the music changed again, and everyone rose.

Maya appeared in the doorway, escorted by her father. Jules felt his breath catch in his throat. Her dress was a masterpiece of elegant simplicity – off-shoulder with delicate lace details that traced her collarbones, a fitted bodice that flowed into a full skirt, and a cathedral-length veil that seemed to float behind her like a cloud. But it was her smile, radiant and certain, that brought tears to his eyes.

"You better cry for her!" came a loud whisper from somewhere in the congregation, followed by Maya's grandmother turning around with a stern look that could have frozen hell itself.

Miles walked Maya down the aisle with measured steps, his eyes glistening with barely contained emotion. When they reached the altar, Miles hugged Jules before placing Maya's hand in his, whispering, "Take care of each other."

The ceremony was a beautiful blend of traditions. Reverend Richardson spoke of love's power to bridge any distance, any culture, any difference. They exchanged vows in English and French, Jules' voice steady despite the emotion evident in his eyes. After the rings and the "I do's," a beautifully carved broom was placed before them – a tradition dating back to enslaved ancestors who couldn't legally marry.

"Jump into your future together," Reverend Richardson announced, and amid cheers and applause, Jules and Maya joined hands and leaped over the broom into their new life.

Their first kiss as husband and wife nearly brought the church down, the celebrations reaching a fever pitch as church bells began to ring. As they ran down the aisle, guests blew bubbles that caught the light streaming through the stained glass windows, creating tiny rainbows around them.

Outside, they ducked into a classic white Rolls Royce, Maya's massive bouquet of white roses resting between them as they headed toward their reception venue in downtown Atlanta.

The reception space was transformed into an elegant wonderland. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting warm light over tables decorated with towering centerpieces of white roses and burgundy dahlias. French and American flags stood alongside the Beninese flag near the head table, representing all parts of their heritage.

After their first dance – to both a French love song and Al Green's "Let's Stay Together" – and the traditional parent dances, Jules found himself standing with Aurélien and Hugo, watching as Maya lined up with her sorority sisters. The opening notes of their Delta Sigma Theta call had the crowd cheering as Maya and her fellow Deltas, including her mother, showed off their steps.

"C'est incroyable," Hugo murmured, filming on his phone. "The energy..."

"This is just the preview for Homecoming," Jules said proudly, remembering Maya's stories about her days at Clark Atlanta. He'd already marked his calendar for October, arranging his schedule to make sure he wouldn't miss it.

The Deltas' performance transitioned seamlessly into Maya's brothers and father taking the floor with their Omega Psi Phi fraternity brothers. The energy in the room shifted again as they hopped and stepped in precise formations, their purple and gold colors flashing.

"Your new family is full of surprises," Aurélien laughed, still recording.

Later, as the evening wound down, Jules held Maya close during a slow dance, her head resting on his shoulder. The dress she'd changed into for the reception sparkled under the chandeliers, but not as brightly as her eyes when she looked up at him.

"Happy?" she asked softly.

"Beyond happy," he replied, spinning her gently. "You are the best gift I could ever ask for. The perfect match I wasn't even looking for."

Maya smiled that smile that had first captured his heart in London. "I love you, Jules Koundé."

"Je t'aime, Maya Richardson-Koundé," he whispered, and kissed her as their families and friends cheered around them, their love story now written into the fabric of both their worlds.

Tomorrow they would leave for their honeymoon in Bora Bora, and after that, they would return to their life in Barcelona. But right now, in this moment, they were simply Jules and Maya, two hearts that found each other across oceans and cultures, proving that love truly knows no boundaries.

"Ready for our next adventure?" Maya murmured against his chest.

Jules tightened his arms around her, thinking of all the moments that had led them here – from that first laugh in London to Thanksgiving chaos to Christmas to this perfect day. "With you? Always."

And as he leaned down to kiss his bride one more time, Jules knew that while he might have won championships and accolades on the football pitch, this victory – this love – was by far his greatest achievement.

[memphisfoodnotbombs]

@totally-california @pyxilate

We never said “you can’t vote for your favorite genocidal maniac.”

Vote or don’t vote, but never be deceived that it will make a difference, there’s literally no lower form of political participation. That’s why they give you a sticker.

Here’s Kamala Harris mocking people who say “we need more education” and vehemently asserting that “we need more prisons” https://youtu.be/4HZjLnj7WGM?si=LFyg9EyfWJL-IQSF

And here’s Kamala Harris clearing rapist killer cops while degrading black women, her continuum as DA: https://www.latimes.com/local/lanow/la-me-ln-mitrice-richardson-closed-20170202-story.html

Picture is a mosaic of the black men Kamala Harris threw into cages.

Thinking that because someone isn’t for one genocidal maniac the must be in favor of the other genocidal maniac is fallacious thinking, it’s known as a “false dichotomy,” sometimes referred to as “black and white thinking.”

We are anarchists, it’s not in our nature to accept tyrants as legitimate authorities, but anyone who knows anything about politics would be able to tell you that.

[thegianpieromennitipolis]

SENSI DELL'ARTE - di Gianpiero Menniti

L'ILLUSIONE DELL'ONFALO

Lo stile è davvero uno dei segni tangibili dell'arte, di ogni espressione, sia essa un testo pittorico o plastico, un'architettura oppure un'opera di scrittura.

In un luogo, qualcosa accade.

Si staglia, s'imprime nello sguardo e suscita un irrefrenabile moto d'animo.

È il primo passo.

Prima lentamente e poi con impeto, i luoghi si moltiplicano: non per mera imitazione ma per slancio creativo.

Così, quando nel 1874, a Parigi, nello studio del fotografo Nadar sul Boulevard des Capucines si tenne la prima mostra "Impressionista", il fuoco di quello stile già diffondeva i suoi lapilli nell'emisfero sud del globo, in Australia, a Melbourne.

Lì si formò la scuola detta di "Heidelberg" - dal nome di una località a est, nella periferia rurale della città - e sempre a Melbourne si tenne, nel 1889, la prima mostra passata alla storia con questo titolo: "9 by 5 Impression Exhibition".

Tra i 183 dipinti, almeno 40 erano di Arthur Streeton, non meno di 46 di Charles Conder, assieme ai contributi minori di Frederick McCubbin e Charles Douglas Richardson.

Ma la parte più cospicua spettò, con 63 opere, a Tom Roberts (1856 - 1931) artista di origine britannica.

E britannica sembra essere l'influenza "impressionista" - Turner, Whistler - che colse la vena figurativa di quella che venne annoverata come la prima scuola artistica veracemente australiana.

Ma il ceppo originario s'era già formato nella seconda metà degli anni '80, il "Box Hill artists' camp", con il gruppo di artisti "en plein air" che in seguito costituirono l'ossatura della "Heidelberg School".

Certamente, Roberts fu il più intenso nel lasciarsi cogliere dallo slancio di misurarsi con la cattura dell'istante nella naturalezza del primo impatto.

E se è vero che le sue tele echeggiano Whistler pur concedendosi inizialmente all'impronta vaga di Constable, le stesse mostrano un notevole coraggio nell'esplorare i fondamenti della visione sensibile, della costruzione im-mediata dell'immagine pittorica.

Così, le tracce irrequiete dell'arte migrarono lasciando l'Europa, annebbiata dalla "Belle Époque", nella tragica illusione di essere l'omphalòs (ὀμφαλός), l'ombelico del mondo.

- "Going home", 1889, National Gallery of Australia; "Treno serale per Hawthorn", 1889, Art Gallery of New South Wales; "Andante", 1889, Art Gallery of South Australia.

[chimerathewriter]

Watercolor Eyes (Jeremiah Fisher)

Jeremiah Fisher x Oc (Henrietta Richardson)

Summary: Henrietta Richardson, Henry for friends is Nicole's younger sister, and for a while she's been away from Cousins, but after a long and annoying school year she decides to go back to her favourite beach city, where she discovered what her sister been doing.

Her sister action and her terrible school year won't ruin her beloved summer in Cousins

PREVIEW

" You left two girls naked in a lake for a white man, a white man named Conrad" she shouts standing up on her bed, she looks at her older sister disgusted and disappointed

" Nicole Richardson you are better than this, like look at you, pretty and smart and you wasted it for a boy named Conrad, and anyway this Fishers brothers are not all that" she sits exhausted

" Oh you don-t know anything lilttle sis"

[zurdo-machete]

que gobierno de re mierda loco la re puta que los re parió a todos

si habia algo que funcionaba BIEN y con TRANSPARENCIA era el reprocann y hasta eso quieren arruinar. saben que una sociedad con acceso al cannabis recreativo disminuye las posibilidades de caer en drogas duras, LO SABEN por eso hacen esto. criminalizan todo y a todos

ya vino la forra de re mil mierda de laura richardson a decir que es cuestion de tiempo para que llegue el fentanilo al país, y quieren crear el caldo de cultivo perfecto para una sociedad lobotomizada como la estadounidense

no era anarco capitalismo, era NARCO CAPILALISMO.

[bloodyfiona]

TANTI PICCOLI FUOCHI (Celeste NG)

You didn't make good choices. You had good choices. Options that being rich and white and entitled gave you.

1998, Shaker Heights (Ohio): una comunità popolata da una maggioranza di benintenzionati democratici e abbienti seguaci delle drastiche regole di vita stabilite dai loro predecessori; qui vivono due donne: la radical chic Elena Richardson: quattro figli, perfezionista, impegnata in attività benefiche e, poi, Mia: madre single che ha scelto una vita itinerante fatta di lavori saltuari per dedicare tutto il tempo libero alla fotografia artistica - al momento occupata come domestica in casa Richardson in cambio di alloggio.

Mia ha una figlia adolescente, Pearl, che stringe amicizia con i ragazzi Richardson e si trova benissimo a Shaker Heights; presto quella che dovrebbe essere una svolta decisiva nella vita delle due donne diventa un problema, quando un’amica dei Richardson cerca di adottare una neonata sinoamericana, Elena e Mia si ritroveranno schierate su due fronti opposti nella successiva battaglia per la custodia, che vede contrapposte la madre adottiva americana e la madre naturale cinese.

Da questo romanzo, la serie Little Fires Everywhere, con Reese Whiterspoon e Kerry Washington.

[transmetropolitan]

Creo que lo más inutil y patético de este gobierno son sus políticas internacionales. Las intervenciones gringas por el Atucha III ya venian con Alberto, pero obvio que iba a ser Milei el que iba a cumplir sin rechistar.

Imaginate cancelar la construcción de un reactor que sería un hito en la historia del desarrollo nuclear argentino solo porque a papi estados unidos le hace temblar la cola que un país del sur tenga soberanía energetica gracias a inversiones chinas.

Y la razón que dieron fue que sospechaban de presencia militar china... en una central donde no hay militares... solo hay científicos... donde se la pasaron vigilandolo todo el 2023... donde la única "prueba" son los dichos del canciller Marc Stanley...

El modo de desmantelar la política nuclear es la misma que usa Milei en todas las areas: dejar sin fondos. Pero ahora el indignometro me llega hasta la cabeza porque las razones son simplemente muy estúpidas. Este gobierno se piensa que vive en la guerra fría todavía, y andar lamiendo ortos de forma tan bruta en política internacional (prometieron mandar fuerzas armadas a ucrania si les pedían!!!) no deja contento a nadie; no deja contenta a tu población, no deja contento a tus posibles aliados y te hace ver cómo el inútil que sos frente a los que queres impresionar.

[nahua-tlahtolli]

MARCADOR DE JUEGO DE PELOTA EN FORMA DE GUACAMAYA▪️

Otra de las #maravillasdelmundomaya

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

La Unión, Departamento de Copán, Honduras.

Marcador en forma de cabeza de Guacamaya perteneciente a un campo de pelota ubicado en el municipio de La Unión, Departamento de Copán en el occidente de Honduras. Dicho sitio fue identificado en 1938 por Francis B. Richardson y Rafael Girard, quienes notaron de inmediato la presencia de dos cabezas de guacamaya a los extremos del campo, y cuyas características eran muy similares al campo de pelota principal del sitio arqueológico de Copán. La fotografía posiblemente es de los años 40’s y ambas cabezas de guacamaya fueron posteriormente trasladadas al parque central de La Unión, Copán, donde permanecen hasta el día de hoy.

📑 ... Fotografías históricas de América Central

#maravillasdelmexicoantiguo

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

"Nuestro pasado prehispánico más vivo que nunca"

¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬¬

Si te interesa este tipo de contenido SIGUENOS en Maravillas del México Antiguo / ADV Estudio®️

#maravillasdelméxicoantiguo®️

[kiki-mimi222222222]

Jeff on the phone:

- Jane Richardson, you promised to buy me Tesla, where’s it?! I want fancy Tesla car!

Jane: What- who the f_ck are you, dude?

Jeff: I am Jeff.

Jane: What kind of Jeff? There’s a billion of Jeffs in creepypasta. Are you my sis’ boyfriend or this blond Hadukin Roman brother?

Jeff: I am Jeff the killer - I killed your parents.

Jane: You killed my parents, so why the f_ck I must give you Tesla?!

Jeff: If you won’t buy me Tesla, I will seduce your wife, by dressing up as a hot hazbin hotel bimbo. Or just gonna Jeff the kill the rest of ur family.

Jane: First - we both are loyal and Christian women. Second - It’s rather me will futa you, than you will Jeff the kill my birds. Third - tawog is better, than hazbin hotel imho. That’s all, bye and shut the your bitch-Nina up - I am tired of her stalking me, it’s gross.

[supersatisfyer]

Las hijas de Drácula (Vampyres, 1974

José Ramón Larraz

Lo más gracioso del tema es que yo no quería hacer esa película. Acababa de rodar Síntomas (Symptoms, 1974) y tras presentarla en el Festival de Cannes, en el avión de regreso el que había sido el montador, Brian Smedley-Ashton, me dijo: “Si tú me haces una película de la calidad de ésta, pero con sexo y con muerte, vamos, una de vampiros, yo te la produzco”. Y entonces era la época en la que estaba de moda el Drácula repeinado de Christopher Lee, que a mí no me gustaba nada. Sin embargo, uno de los amigos del productor, Tony Richardson, me aconsejó que hiciera caso a Brian, ya que podía ser una buena idea y acertó el puñetero. Porque esa película, que ahora algunos llaman de culto, lo que tiene es que el sexo está tratado de un modo muy sui generis

Entrevista josé Luis Salvador Estébenez

La Abadía de Berzano

Cerebrin.wordpress.com

[parapalola]

*☠ — (haley lu richarsdon, feminino cis, ela/dela) PREPARE TO GET STARSTRUCK! Acabamos de ver LOLA MCFLY passando pelo tapete vermelho! Com seus 30 anos, ela é uma BATERISTA NA BANDA PARAPLUS conhecida pelos seus fãs por ser muito SOCIÁVEL E LEAL, embora há quem diga que nos bastidores ela possa ser bastante PASSIVA E INCONSTANTE. Você ouviu o que os tablóides andam dizendo sobre ela? Não? Ah, eu te conto! Estão dizendo que TEM INVEJA DA VOCALISTA PRINCIPAL DA PARAPLUS! Será que isso é verdade? Hm… esperamos que não comprometa os seus futuros projetos porque realmente gostamos de vê-la no topo!

𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 — 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕

*☠ — 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐

name: lola anne mcfly

age: 30 years old

ocuppation: baterista na banda paraplus

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bissexual

zodiac: gemini

traits: sociável, leal, adaptável, engraçada, passiva, inconstante, nervosa, indecisa, emocionalmente reclusa, nostálgica, rancorosa;

fc: haley lu richardson

*☠ — 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕

Lola nunca teve muitas certezas na vida mas de uma coisa ela sempre soube: amava música. Iniciou na banda Paraplus com seu irmão e melhores amigos quando todos ainda eram só adolescentes, jovens apaixonados por música e nada mais. O que começou de forma despretensiosa logo estourou como um enorme sucesso na cena de rock, e nada poderia a ter preparado para a tamanha popularidade que a banda recebeu. No princípio, tudo era muito divertido pois estava vivendo o sonho: fazer música com as pessoas que mais amava no mundo.

Porém, conforme o sucesso ia crescendo, o que era simples tornou-se complicado. A gravadora queria cada vez menos a presença de Lola e de seu irmão na composição das músicas, e era claro para todos que a vocalista principal recebia grande parte da atenção do público e do favoritismo dos empresários. Todos eles tinham trabalhado muito duro para chegar até ali, mas parecia que somente uma pessoa era a favorecida.

A imaturidade da época fez Lola sentir inveja, e todas as desvaneças com a gravadora acabaram respingando na amizade dos membros da banda. Depois de lançarem Brand New Heart em meio a diversas brigas, os irmãos decidiram que era o suficiente: iriam sair da banda. Lola nunca teve certeza sobre essa decisão, parte de si sempre quis ficar. Entretanto, em meio a tantas brigas e em lealdade ao irmão, resolveu que não faria mais parte do Paraplus.

Os anos que seguiu separada da banda foram complicados e, ao mesmo tempo, essenciais. Lola precisava daquele tempo para crescer, entender quem ela era e amadurecer. Nesse período, descobriu-se mais apaixonada ainda por composição e foi onde em 2011, fundou o seu próprio projeto musical, o TotalNoise. Mais distante dos holofotes, Lola permitiu-se ser ela mesma. Quando estava com o Paraplus, achava que o que queria era a fama, a atenção e oreconhecimento.

Porém, conforme amadurecia, ela percebeu como era bom sair na rua sem ser reconhecida, ou como finalmente podia lançar músicas que tinha prazer em produzir pois os poucos fãs que tinha eram muito receptíveis. Finalmente estava feliz, mesmo sentindo que havia um vazio dentro de si deixado pelos antigos amigos com os quais não falava mais. Por anos, Lola observou o Paraplus crescer e, dentro de si, a vontade de fazer música com os amigos continuava a formigar. Nunca teve coragem de procurar os outros membros, pois tudo o que falavam desde sua saída era que Lola e seu irmão eram dois amargurados e invejosos.

Quando se reencontraram no bar anos depois e colocaram tudo em panos limpos, a baterista voltou para a banda de onde nunca devia ter saído. Sentia-se imensamente feliz e inspirada por estar fazendo música com seus amigos novamente, mas ainda era difícil ouvir os comentários alheios. Os tabloides adoravam inventar fofocas sobre como ela morria de inveja da vocalista principal, ou que a banda só tinha deteriorado depois de sua volta. Parte da fanbase não ia com sua cara, e lidar com todos os ataques online era exaustivo. Lola sonha em continuar no Paraplus por um bom tempo, mas até onde ela vai suportar as intrigas sem se perder no meio do caminho?

*☠ — 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

strenghts: sociável, leal, adaptável, engraçada, talentosa, habilidosa, aprende rápido, pateta;

weaknesses: passiva, inconstante, nervosa, indecisa, emocionalmente reclusa, tagarela, nostálgica, rancorosa;

likes: produção musical, instrumentos de percussão, fotografia analógica, produção audiovisual, estar rodeada de amigos;

dislikes: ficar sozinha, confinamento, conflitos, rotina;

*☠ — 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒂

Depois que saíram da banda, a relação entre Lola e seu irmão se deteriorou. Ela sempre quis voltar e manter contato com os membros, e o irmão era contra qualquer uma dessas coisas. Depois de sua volta para o Paraplus, os dois mal interagem um com o outro;

Mesmo de volta ao Paraplus, Lola continua trabalhando em paralelo com o seu projeto musical, o TotalNoise;

Dificilmente existe algum instrumento de percussão que Lola não saiba tocar;

É apaixonada por fotografia analógica e produção audiovisual. Coleciona câmeras e já dirigiu alguns videoclipes para o Paraplus;

Não lida muito bem com críticas, apesar de nunca as rebater. A verdade é que Lola se sente mais insegura conforme recebe mais atenção da mídia. Com a enxurrada de críticas, aprendeu que o melhor era se manter o máximo possível fora do centro das atenções;

[todayisafridaynight]

horrifying possibility: if there is an english dub for rgg8 and they do the thing where they dub the songs too. English ichiban singing judgement bottom text

and yes of course POSSIBILITY (possible possible I really hope he doesn't come back) mine in English. There were rumours before rgg3 came out that there was going to be english dub (lol) ever since then I've been giggling about which cartoon villain voice he would have. I'm thinking https://youtu.be/zzWxCLnrFd0?si=-ZrG-b3BPZdo466C.

What f mine's like a background character at the bar like you keep talking to Richardson and he's like "oh yeah mine lived too lol" and you never see him

i dick ride the eng dub sometimes but i will admit that the karoke songs just. Do NOt translate super well in english.. ima still listen tho LMAO im legally required to by law

i doubt mine'll actually be in lad8 thtd just be wayy too funny....

youre foul for thinkin eng mine'd sound like this tho LMAOO

[nstbtmelb]

Title: Pumping For Love
 Artist: Corbis R.
 Label: "No sleep till bedtime..."⁣⁣⁣⁣⠀ 
Format: Digital
 Release: September 14th 2023

Track list:
01] Pumping For Love

Link: https://nosleeptillbedtime.bandcamp.com/track/pumping-for-love

[nstbt_031] is an absolute banger from Melbourne hard techno producer Corbis R.

Corbis R. is a new name for a familiar face. Formerly a part of the hardstyle DJ/production duo KLK & Ben-e Boy aka K&B, he has been whipping Melbourne's dance floors into a frenzy over the last 14 years.

Now setting his sights on new horizons, and with a string of solid releases already under his belt for Spacecake recordings. You can expect the same high energy, and detailed production quality applied to a new format.

Whilst this may be Corbis R's first solo release for us, this is not his first appearance on our label. Submitting an absolute stormer for the SIUL - The Panic Room [Remixes] compilation last year: https://nosleeptillbedtime.bandcamp.com/track/the-panic-room-corbis-richardson-remix

The thing I love most about this release is how "Melbourne" it sounds.

There is an element there that is unique to this city that we call home. A cocktail of all of the years soaking up the nights filled with ravers and shufflers, rocking out to hard trance, hardstyle and hard dance tunes. A sound that can be felt by those who have lived it.  

I know we say this all the time, but we are grateful to be able to work with so many talented artists, and to be able to share their music and stories with you all.

We wish Kale all the best with his new project, and I'm sure there will be much more to hear from him in the coming months ahead

Thank you Kale! 🙏🏻😁

You can learn more and show him some support by following his pages listed below 👇🏻

[corbis_r_pages] Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kale.corbis/ Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/corbis_r

Mastering by: Corbis R.

#hardtechno #schranz #techno #melbourne #industrialhardcore #industrialtechno #producer #undergroundtechno #technoculture #ilovetechno #technodj #technorave #hardstyle #darktechno #rave #hardcore #technomusic #underground #djlife #electronicmusic #hardtechnoparty #acidtechno #podcast #club #hardtechnomusic #raver #dj ⁣

(6head_slug)