#enclos

[jobkash]

Construction Project Management Internship

The Summer 2025 Construction Project Management internship at Enclos is a 10-12 week program where the intern learns about Enclos operations processes while working on monumental building projects.About Enclos: Enclos is the leading facade contractor in the U.S., specializing in the design, engineering, fabrication, and assembly of custom curtainwall systems. With generations of in-house experts…

[espritelephant]

Découvrez le métier de soigneur animalier !

[the-past-is-too-small]

[philoursmars]

Troisième étape de mon périple dans l'Ouest pour retrouver des ami(e)s lointain(e)s : Christian en Bretagne, près de Brest. (bon, avec ma lenteur, on en est à un décalage d'un mois, c'était fin février !)

Le village de Brélès, avec l'enclos paroissial autour de l'église, typiquement breton.

[severalowls]

Some conservator at the Field Museum has the greatest desk tidy I've ever seen.

[aperint]

Frases Célebres

Frases Célebres Anne "Ninón" de l'Enclos (1620-1705) #aperturaintelectual #frasescelebresaintelectual

“Cuando nuestros sueños se han cumplido es cuando comprendemos la riqueza de nuestra imaginación y la pobreza de la realidad.” Anne “Ninón” de l’Enclos (1620-1705) Aristócrata, cortesana, mecenas y salonnière francesa. Sigue Apertura Intelectual en todas nuestras redes: WordPress Facebook Twitter Instagram LinkedIn Tumblr Reddit Mastodon Te invitamos a que califiques esta…

[rookfeatherrambles]

Bro, I'm fuckin eating my computer screen with your au (/very positive). I love monster storys and for me it echoes an au I had for a diffrent fandom because I love man eating sea monsters who are just so charming with a partner who is normally their enemy.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA GOSH I AM SO HAPPY RN!!!! Hi thank you for taking a look at my au im going FERAL over it and driving all my discord friends batty because I will not shut up about it! I'm like... 25% done the first chapter of the fic and I AAAAAA so loudly!!! thank you for this ask aaaaaa your words just made my day! Here's a cute image I absolute will write just for you keeping the hype alive! Martin and Jon hanging out on some deserted beach, and just chatting. Merfolk don't speak underwater, they sign! So halfway through explaining to Martin (who's got lovestruck eyes) about the biggest fish that got away, Jon stops talking and slips into signing it. Martin doesn't understand, so Jon does it again, slower. Martin is really amused now and his heart is SO FULL. "Jon love, I don't speak that language?" Cue Jon looking sheepish and putting his hands down and saying "I forgot the word for it in English," and then they both start laughing because it's silly and funny and they're in love!

[mossistyping]

On Google Maps dropping myself off at the bakery to make sure I still know the way to my grandma's house

[contemplatingoutlander]

Here's another more expansive photo of the same tea house/sleeping porch garden.

“Flagstones,” Charles Clinton Marshall house, 117 East 55th Street, New York, New York. Tea house/sleeping porch. Photographer: Frances Benjamin Johnston. Circa 1921-1922.

According to enclos*ure, the above lantern slide is one of "1,000 hand-colored, glass-plate lantern slides of gardens taken (mostly) by Frances Benjamin Johnston." The slides were digitally released on the Internet in April 2012.

The images in the collection were taken from 1895 to 1935.  Originally black and white photographs, Johnston had them hand tinted and made into slides to illustrate her popular garden lectures, which she gave to garden clubs, horticultural societies, and museum audiences from 1915 to 1930.  As part of the Garden Beautiful Movement, she encouraged Americans to grow gardens on tenement lots, in row-house yards and in parks, which had deteriorated from industrial pollution and neglect during the Gilded Age. The slides have not been seen in public since Johnston last projected them during her lectures.  They depict more than 200 sites — primarily private gardens — in all regions of the United States and in Europe.  The entire collection, 1,130 digital images, can be found in the Library’s Prints and Photographs Online Catalog, here.

Hard to believe that a place like this ever existed in midtown, but this is the Charles Clinton Marshall house at 117 East 55th Street in 1921-22. Tea house/sleeping porch. Hand-colored glass lantern slide.

Photo: Frances Benjamin Johnston via the LoC

[rechab]

Matin chagrin - ( RC )

Matin chagrin,gris plombé du ciel,l’ombre des corbeaux,l’arbre dans la cour,le reflet des glaceset les siècles qui passent. Les corbeaux sur le calvaire,les saints sculptés dans la pierre,leur ombre sur les tombes,les prières muettes,à genoux sur la dalle froide,les cierges éteints… Un matin chagrin,des herbes sur le trottoir,autour de l’enclos paroissial,le vendeur de cartes postales,les bols…

[crimzoncrow]

gnawing at the bars of my cage . i need someone to talk to about my woman from my show

[jobkash]

Construction Project Management Internship

The Summer 2025 Construction Project Management internship at Enclos is a 10-12 week program where the intern learns about Enclos operations processes while working on monumental building projects.About Enclos: Enclos is the leading facade contractor in the U.S., specializing in the design, engineering, fabrication, and assembly of custom curtainwall systems. With generations of in-house experts…

[rarougrougrou]

Cette nuit j'ai rêvé que je regardais un film avec de funès dedans, et vraiment on aurait réellement dit un vrai film où il aurait tourné dedans c'est terrible

Au début y'avait un long générique comme dans les vieux films où on passe l'intro/des paysages a l'écran avec tous les credits et un morceau (qui ressemblait a la bo de l'homme orchestre au passage)

Et dans l'histoire y'avait le personnage qu'incarnait de funès qui était le directeur un peu crapuleux d'un zoo, ultra axé sur le profit

On l'informe que y'a des problèmes de fragilité sur certains enclos et lui en a rien a foutre, jusqu'au moment fatidique : y'a des animaux qui pètent les enclos pour s'échapper

De funès refuse de faire evacuer le zoo et fait de son mieux pour faire en sorte que les infos ne fuitent pas du côté des visiteurs (va cacher le fait que ton lion se balade tranquille, franchement) et qui du coup tente de re capturer seul les animaux en liberté

Ca donnait des séquences vraiment drôles où il essaye de faire le pitre pour attirer l'attention vers lui pour que des gens evitent de voir le putain de lion derrière eux, ou lui qui fait des grands gestes et bruits pour faire peur à un ours

[thebrickinbrick]

The Barrel of Powder

Marius, still concealed in the turn of the Rue Mondétour, had witnessed, shuddering and irresolute, the first phase of the combat. But he had not long been able to resist that mysterious and sovereign vertigo which may be designated as the call of the abyss. In the presence of the imminence of the peril, in the presence of the death of M. Mabeuf, that melancholy enigma, in the presence of Bahorel killed, and Courfeyrac shouting: “Follow me!” of that child threatened, of his friends to succor or to avenge, all hesitation had vanished, and he had flung himself into the conflict, his two pistols in hand. With his first shot he had saved Gavroche, and with the second delivered Courfeyrac.

Amid the sound of the shots, amid the cries of the assaulted guards, the assailants had climbed the entrenchment, on whose summit Municipal Guards, soldiers of the line and National Guards from the suburbs could now be seen, gun in hand, rearing themselves to more than half the height of their bodies.

They already covered more than two-thirds of the barrier, but they did not leap into the enclosure, as though wavering in the fear of some trap. They gazed into the dark barricade as one would gaze into a lion’s den. The light of the torch illuminated only their bayonets, their bear-skin caps, and the upper part of their uneasy and angry faces.

Marius had no longer any weapons; he had flung away his discharged pistols after firing them; but he had caught sight of the barrel of powder in the tap-room, near the door.

As he turned half round, gazing in that direction, a soldier took aim at him. At the moment when the soldier was sighting Marius, a hand was laid on the muzzle of the gun and obstructed it. This was done by some one who had darted forward,—the young workman in velvet trousers. The shot sped, traversed the hand and possibly, also, the workman, since he fell, but the ball did not strike Marius. All this, which was rather to be apprehended than seen through the smoke, Marius, who was entering the tap-room, hardly noticed.

Still, he had, in a confused way, perceived that gun-barrel aimed at him, and the hand which had blocked it, and he had heard the discharge. But in moments like this, the things which one sees vacillate and are precipitated, and one pauses for nothing. One feels obscurely impelled towards more darkness still, and all is cloud.

The insurgents, surprised but not terrified, had rallied. Enjolras had shouted: “Wait! Don’t fire at random!” In the first confusion, they might, in fact, wound each other. The majority of them had ascended to the window on the first story and to the attic windows, whence they commanded the assailants.

The most determined, with Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire, and Combeferre, had proudly placed themselves with their backs against the houses at the rear, unsheltered and facing the ranks of soldiers and guards who crowned the barricade.

All this was accomplished without haste, with that strange and threatening gravity which precedes engagements. They took aim, point blank, on both sides: they were so close that they could talk together without raising their voices.

When they had reached this point where the spark is on the brink of darting forth, an officer in a gorget extended his sword and said:—

“Lay down your arms!”

“Fire!” replied Enjolras.

The two discharges took place at the same moment, and all disappeared in smoke.

An acrid and stifling smoke in which dying and wounded lay with weak, dull groans. When the smoke cleared away, the combatants on both sides could be seen to be thinned out, but still in the same positions, reloading in silence. All at once, a thundering voice was heard, shouting:—

“Be off with you, or I’ll blow up the barricade!”

All turned in the direction whence the voice proceeded.

Marius had entered the tap-room, and had seized the barrel of powder, then he had taken advantage of the smoke, and the sort of obscure mist which filled the entrenched enclosure, to glide along the barricade as far as that cage of paving-stones where the torch was fixed. To tear it from the torch, to replace it by the barrel of powder, to thrust the pile of stones under the barrel, which was instantly staved in, with a sort of horrible obedience,—all this had cost Marius but the time necessary to stoop and rise again; and now all, National Guards, Municipal Guards, officers, soldiers, huddled at the other extremity of the barricade, gazed stupidly at him, as he stood with his foot on the stones, his torch in his hand, his haughty face illuminated by a fatal resolution, drooping the flame of the torch towards that redoubtable pile where they could make out the broken barrel of powder, and giving vent to that startling cry:—

“Be off with you, or I’ll blow up the barricade!”

Marius on that barricade after the octogenarian was the vision of the young revolution after the apparition of the old.

“Blow up the barricade!” said a sergeant, “and yourself with it!”

Marius retorted: “And myself also.”

And he dropped the torch towards the barrel of powder.

But there was no longer any one on the barrier. The assailants, abandoning their dead and wounded, flowed back pell-mell and in disorder towards the extremity of the street, and there were again lost in the night. It was a headlong flight.

The barricade was free.

[philoursmars]

Troisième étape de mon périple dans l'Ouest pour retrouver des ami(e)s lointain(e)s : Christian en Bretagne, près de Brest. (bon, avec ma lenteur, on en est à un décalage d'un mois, c'était fin février !)

Le village de Brélès, avec l'enclos paroissial autour de l'église, typiquement breton, un puits fleuri de muscaris et un linteau gravé en 1722.

[killjo-q]

transferred the adults to bigger setups

mostly the cornsnek because the 3ft enclo was way too small for him (he is around 4 ft) and i felt bad…