#greta zimmer

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Despite what the song says, a kiss isn’t always just a kiss.

A kiss can be political, because it’s the first of its kind or because it’s between two heads of state.

A kiss can also become iconic when it’s captured on film, even if the kiss itself was invasive and unwanted.

With that in mind, here’s a list of some of the most memorable kisses in history.

Scholars debate whether kissing began as a trend that spread around the globe, or sprung up organically in different regions.

Whatever the case, the earliest known written mentions of it are in Vedic Sanskrit scriptures circa 1500 B.C., according to research by Vaughn Bryant, an anthropology professor at Texas A&M University.

These scriptures, known as the Vedas, were foundational to the religion of Hinduism.

After that, kissing continued to appear in ancient Indian and Hindu literature.

The Mahabharata, a Sanskrit epic compiled by the 4th century A.D., has a line in which someone “set her mouth to my mouth and made a noise that produced pleasure in me.”

The Kama Sutra, an ancient Sanskrit text on eroticism and love, also has a chapter on kissing that identifies different methods of kissing and types of kisses.

Kissing isn’t just a romantic act. It can also be a sign of friendship or betrayal.

In the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, written circa the 1st century, Judas betrays Jesus by identifying him with a kiss so that armed men can take him away and eventually kill him.

Judas’ kiss has since become a popular storytelling allusion.

It may have inspired the “kiss of death” that appears in mafia literature and film (but was probably never an actual mafia practice).

Perhaps the most famous example is in The Godfather Part II, when Al Pacino’s character gives his brother Fredo the kiss of death for betraying him.

The first people to smooch on film were May Irwin and John C. Rice, who appeared in a short film known variously as May Irwin kiss, Kiss, or The Kiss.

In 1896, the two performers went to Thomas Edison’s studio in New Jersey and reenacted their final kiss scene from a play they were putting on in New York City.

On stage, no one thought the kiss was that sensational. But many felt the close-up footage of them kissing was too risqué.

In 1898, black performers Saint Suttle and Gertie Brown starred in a short film titled ''Something Good-Negro Kiss,'' the first film to show Black Americans kissing.

In 2017, film historians rediscovered the footage, which was filmed by a white man named William Selig in Chicago.

“There’s a performance there because they’re dancing with one another, but their kissing has an unmistakable sense of naturalness, pleasure and amusement as well,” Allyson Nadia Field, a professor of cinema and media studies at the University of Chicago who helped identify the film, said in a university press release.

“It is really striking to me, as a historian who works on race and cinema, to think that this kind of artifact could have existed in 1898.”

On the morning of 14 August 1945, patients burst into Greta Zimmer’s Manhattan office claiming the war in Japan was over.

The Austrian immigrant wasn’t sure what to think, so on her lunch break, she went to Times Square in her white dental assistant’s uniform to see what the news ticker said.

The atmosphere there was celebratory. The ticker confirmed that it was indeed V-J Day, and World War II was over.

As Zimmer looked away from the ticker, a Navy sailor named George Mendonsan — who’d started drinking early and mistook Zimmer for a nurse — ran up and aggressively kissed her, leaving his girlfriend behind.

Zimmer struggled to push the stranger off, and they parted ways.

But unbeknownst to both of them, photographers Alfred Eisenstaedt and Victor Jorgensen had each captured the moment, as recounted in The Kissing Sailor: The Mystery Behind The Photo That Ended World War II.

Eisenstaedt’s photo became one of the most iconic WWII images in U.S. history, in part because viewers mistook it for a picture of a Naval officer and nurse celebrating together.

The photo has also stirred controversy, as many people have claimed over the years to be the couple in the image, while others point out that it depicts a nonconsensual moment.

Zimmer said in an interview with the Library of Congress in 2005:

“It wasn’t my choice to be kissed...the guy just came over and kissed or grabbed!”

When William Shatner and Nichelle Nichols kissed on a 1968 episode of Star Trek, it was not technically the first interracial kiss on U.S. television.

But it was the one that seemed to have the most cultural impact.

In the episode, titled “Plato’s Stepchildren,” Captain James Kirk and Officer Nyota Uhura encounter aliens who force them to kiss each other through telekinesis.

In Nichols’ book Beyond Uhura: Star Trek and Other Memories, she recalls that NBC was worried how white Americans would react to the scene, so they asked the actors to film two scenes: one with a kiss and one without a kiss.

However, Nichols and Shatner purposefully messed up all of the kissless takes in order to ensure that NBC aired the kissing scene.

During the Cold War, leaders of communist states often greeted each other with what’s called the “socialist fraternal kiss.”

This could be on the cheek or the mouth, but the most famous example is French photographer Régis Bossu’s 1979 picture of the Soviet Union’s Leonid Brezhnev and East Germany’s Erich Honecker kissing on the mouth.

The kiss occurred when Brezhnev visited East Berlin to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the German Democratic Republic (i.e., East Germany).

When the Berlin Wall came down in 1989, the Soviet artist Dmitri Vrubel recreated the image in a mural on the wall’s east side.

He captioned it: “My God, Help Me to Survive This Deadly Love.”

[rwpohl]

der mörder mit dem seidenschal, adrian hoven 1966

[mazzy-rockstar]

Broken Bells an Pirates of the Caribbean girlies listen to this

[beautifulcinephile]

JAKE

KISZKA

LISTENING

TO

THE

"DUNE"

SOUNDTRACK???

MY WORLDS COLLIDED.

[alltrekvarnews]

Fotos del Estreno de 'Megalopolis' en el Festival de Cine de Cannes: Francis Ford Coppola, Adam Driver, Shia LaBeouf, Aubrey Plaza y más...

[tryingadifferentsong]

Schloss Einstein Rewatch Folge 34 & 35

Ist Katharinas Charakter-Development von "ich stelle mehrere meiner Mitschülerinnen grundlos bloß" zu "ich verteidige eine Mitschülerin, mit der ich fast nichts zu tun habe" jetzt eigentlich wirklich nur durch ihre Beziehung zu Budhi erklärt worden (von der man im Übrigen auch gar nichts mehr sieht)? Und die ist ja auch irgendwie auch eher einfach so ohne langen Aufbau "passiert"?

Was ist denn bitte mit Ole los von wegen "die meisten Arbeitslosen sind selbst schuld! Wir leben in einer Leistungsgesellschaft!1!!" 🤨 Heutzutage würde man es wahrscheinlich auf Tiktok schieben, aber warum plappert da 1998 ein 11 jähriger so daher?? Redet er wirklich einfach seinem Vater hinterher oder war Ole mal zu lange beim Seelitzer Kneipenstammtisch dabei oder woher kommt das?

Ich hatte ja schon Angst, dass Frau Seiffert von SE komplett unterbezahlt wird, aber 25k DM scheinen unter Berücksichtigung der Inflation tatsächlich in etwa dem heute üblichen Lohnniveau in Brandenburg für ein:e Krankenpfleger:in in Teilzeit zu entsprechen 🤓

Die 6. Klasse machen Vorschläge zum Energieeinsparen an der Schulen und will freiwillig weniger duschen und weniger Lampen, um das Gehalt für Veras Mutter bezahlen zu können 🥹💚 das dürfte die "unsere Kinder werden von Greta Thunberg zu linksgrünen Gutmenschen 🤡" Fraktion nicht hören 😂

Was für eine mega coole Experience muss so ein heimliches Mitternachtskonzert im Probenraum oder die Straßenschilder-Aktion für 12-14 Jährige sein?? Bin fast ein bisschen traurig darüber, dass sowas als Erwachsener einfach deutlich weniger special wäre ✨😂

Unsere Lieblingsdorfkids verarschen die Einstein Superbrains Alexandra und Tom mit diesen Funksprüchen von Außerirdischen und am Ende können alle zusammen drüber lachen - liebs doch wieder! Aber was für einen krassen Aufwand haben Wolf und Atze da bitte betrieben, die müssen ja auch Funkgerät, Morsealphabet etc. besorgt/ gelernt haben 😳

Oliver und Nadine 🥹 Die sollen sich einfach nur weiter süß anschauen oder maximal schüchtern Händchen halten, für alles andere sind die doch noch viel zu baby, aber halt schon auch arg cute ♥️ Haben die eigentlich einen Shipnamen? Ich werf mal Nadiver in die Runde

Nein, Iris, bitte keine Diät machen! (Hier verfällt Katharina wieder kurz in alte Muster von wegen "du würdest eh keine Diät durchhalten", aber immerhin entschuldigt sie sich später und will ihr Tipps geben.) und bei der Nahaufnahme von dem "Model in Unterwäsche"-Poster an Iris Wand, dachte ich kurz, dass wir hier bestimmt im Zimmer von pubertierenden Jungs sind 🙈

[childofthewolvess]

Hiya, I like your blog and your overall style. What music do you listen to?

Hey there! Thank you so much!! This is such a good question, and a hard one to answer at that. Good job ;)

I listen to a little bit of anything and everything. For context, I grew up in the deep south and lived in a jazz city for some time, so... some of these things are not like the other (lol).

Hozier, Sleeping At Last, and Richy Mitch & The Coalminers are my all-time favorite music artists.

Indie folk/rock, like forest ranger in the mountains vibe, this is definitely my biggest category (Hozier, The Paper Kites, Fleet Foxes, Richy Mitch & The Coalminers, Lord Huron, Gregory Alan Isakov, Caamp)

Calm indie alternative in a poetry-writing and introspective mood (Sleeping At Last, John Vincent III, Novo Amor, Amber Run, Radical Face, Daughter)

Alternative rock/indie alternative rock (flipturn, Rainbow Kitten Surprise, Florence & The Machine, Fleetwood Mac, The Orion Experience, alt-j, Greta Van Fleet)

Modern-pop or 2000s pop (MARINA, Coldplay, Taylor Swift, Imagine Dragons, Lady Gaga, Glass Animals, BøRNS, Fall Out Boy, Lorde, Chappell Roan, Macklemore, Pitbull, Rihannna)

Folk country or bluegrass (Watchhouse, Jimmy Buffett, Zac Brown Band, Johnny Cash, Zach Bryan, Colter Wall, Tyler Childers)

Female rage and hyper-pop mania vibes (also MARINA, Paris Paloma, Olivia Rodrigo, Mother Mother, AURORA, The Crane Wives, Grimes)

"I grew up in jazz culture" (Count Basie, Stevie Wonder, Sonny Rollins, Caro Emerald, Miles Davis, Weather Report)

2000-2010s radio EDM/Dance (Calvin Harris, Martin Garrix, Caravan Palace, Axwell, Empire of the Sun, David Guetta, Swedish House Mafia)

Orchestral or soundtrack for when I'm writing in my fantasy series (John Powell, Woodkid, The Amazing Devil, Hans Zimmer, Two Steps from Hell, The Oh Hellos, Cody Fry, The Family Crest)

60s/70s/80s pop bops (ABBA, Elton John, Queen, Franki Valli & The Four Seasons, Indigo Girls, Glen Campbell, The Dream Academy, Bob Dylan, The Cranberries)

[justforbooks]

The Story Behind the Famous Kiss

Tuesday, August 14, 1945, started off for Greta Zimmer in the same manner as did most weekdays during that year. Hurrying to get ready for work, she showered, dressed, and pinned her hair up tightly to keep her long locks from covering her ears and neck. Before leaving her Manhattan apartment she grabbed a quick bite to eat, reached for her multicolored, small purse, and rushed out the door. When running late, Greta walked briskly toward the subway station to catch a train that could get her to work on time.

Her destination was the 33rd and Lexington subway stop, approximately three blocks from Dr. J. L. Berke’s dentist office. Greta had worked as a dental assistant at the Manhattan office for several months. While she hoped to someday design theater sets and pursue other vocations in the arts, work as a dental assistant bought her some independence and took her mind off a prolonged war.

When Greta arrived at the office on the morning of August 14, she changed into her working uniform. If it were not for her place of employment, she could have been easily mistaken for a nurse. Her white dress, white stockings, white shoes, and white cap did not distinguish her from thousands of other caregivers in New York.

While Greta performed her dental assistant duties that Tuesday morning, many patients burst into the office short of breath and beaming. Excitedly, they informed the staff and patients that the war with Japan had ended. Most patients and workers believed them. Greta wasn’t so sure. She wanted to trust their reports, but the war had rained more than a fair share of misery upon Greta. Her defenses remained high. She opted to delay a celebratory mindset that could prove painfully premature.

During the later morning hours, patients continued to enter the dentists’ office with more optimistic news. While Greta tried to ignore the positive developments, the temptation to flow with the prevailing winds challenged her reserve. As the reports became more definitive and promising, Greta found herself listening, contemplating, and growing eager.

When the two dentists returned from their lunches after 1:00 pm, Greta quickly finished the business before her. Soon after, she grabbed her small hand purse with the colorful pattern, took off her white dental assistant cap (as was customary before going out in public), and set out during her lunch break for Times Square. There the Times news zipper utilized lit and moving type to report the latest news. She wanted to know for herself if the claims that had been tossed about over the past several hours were misleading hearsay, or if, on this day, the reports would finally be true.

When Greta arrived at Times Square, a holiday atmosphere was taking hold. While the celebration was subdued compared to what would follow later that day, Greta sensed a vibrant energy in the air. Suited businessmen, well-dressed women, and uniformed soldiers and sailors entered the pandemonium from all directions. Some ran with no determined direction. Others walked with purpose. Some remained stationary, as if waiting for something big to happen. Greta paid no one particular person much attention.

As she proceeded into the square she moved by several recognizable landmarks: the 42nd Street subway stairwell, a replica of the Statue of Liberty, and a large statue of Joe Rosenthal’s famous picture from a few months earlier. After walking a few paces beyond the 25-foot model of the Marines raising the flag at Iwo Jima, Greta spun around and looked in the direction of the Times Building. She focused her sight just above the third-floor windows where the scrolling lighted letters spelled out the latest headlines. Greta read the racing and succinctly worded message quickly. Now she knew the truth.

The Last Day of Leave

On the last day of his leave, Petty Officer First Class George Mendonsa paid no attention to the day’s newspaper headlines and worried little about his Japanese enemy. After almost two years in World War II’s Pacific theater, his mindset was that the war would unfold independent of his blessing or curse. On the morning of August 14, 1945, his thoughts focused primarily on Rita Petry, an attractive Long Island girl he’d met a few weeks earlier in Rhode Island.

George woke up that Tuesday morning alone in a bedroom at the Petry family’s Long Island home. After breakfast with Rita’s family, he leafed through The New York Times looking for show times in New York’s theaters. He and his new girlfriend decided to take in a matinee at Radio City Music Hall. They thought the 1:05 pm showing of A Bell for Adano would give them plenty of time to make it back to Long Island by early evening. George was scheduled to depart for San Francisco that night. In a few days he expected to board The Sullivans and prepare for what he hoped would be the last battles of World War II. He knew an invasion of the Japanese mainland was imminent. While he did not welcome the looming chain of events, he thought finishing off the Japanese in their homeland would be a fitting bookend to a war that had commenced almost four years earlier with the empire’s surprise bombing of Pearl Harbor. But all that was in the future. He still had one day left to enjoy in New York.

Preparing for that day, George wore a formal blue Navy uniform that he’d had tailor-made while on leave in Newport. Rita liked how well fitted the new uniform appeared, but she’d also noticed that “he didn’t look like a usual sailor. He didn’t have those things [rates] on his shoulder.” She’d offered to sew on the chevron, but George had insisted he would take care of the matter with a crossbow hand-stitch he had perfected affixing rates on uniforms on board The Sullivans. He never got around to it, so, in the event the shore patrol inquired as to the whereabouts of his rating badge, George made sure to carry the chevron on his person when he and Rita set out for the city.

When they arrived in Manhattan at approximately noon, the city already buzzed with rumors of Japan’s anticipated surrender. However, neither Rita nor George listened much to people’s conversations. Intent on getting to the theater for the 1:05 movie, they made their way from the subway directly to Radio City Music Hall.

For all their rushing, George and Rita never saw the climax of A Bell for Adano, the movie they had come to see. After a few scenes of the film had played on the large screen, a theater employee interrupted the show by pounding on the entrance door and announcing loudly that World War II had ended. Radio City Music Hall patrons simultaneously leaped to their feet with a thunderous applause. Though President Truman had not yet received Japan’s official surrender, and the White House’s official announcement of Japan’s capitulation was still hours away, few raised the slightest objection to the premature declaration.

Seconds after the theater attendant’s announcement, George, Rita, and most other moviegoers poured out of Radio City Music Hall into a bustling 50th Street and 6th Avenue. As they merged into the frenzied scene, they fed off the contagious excitement that surrounded them. People yelled out news of victory and peace. They smiled and laughed. They jumped up and down with no thought of proper decorum. As if caught in a magnetic field, the historic celebration moved toward Times Square. People from other sections of the city were funneled to the same crossroads where they had gathered for celebrations in the past.

At the corner of 7th Avenue and 49th Street, George and Rita dropped into Childs restaurant for celebratory libations. As in other watering holes in New York, people walked, skipped and ran up to the jam-packed counter to tip a glass or two (or significantly more) to the war that they thought had finally ended. The scene at Childs looked much like that on 7th Avenue. Order and etiquette had been cast away. Rather than placing orders for a specific mug of beer or a favorite glass of wine, patrons forced their way toward the bar and reached out an arm to grab one of the shot glasses of liquor that lined the counter. A generous bartender continuously poured the contents of hard liquor bottles into waiting glasses. George grabbed whatever the server dispensed and did not ask what it was he drank. He knew the desired result would be the same whether the contributor was Jack Daniel’s, Jameson, or Old Grand-Dad. Even Rita gave over to the reckless abandon. After several minutes and the consumption of too many drinks, George and his date made their way out of the packed bar.

Emotions and alcohol-based fuel propelled them out into Times Square where victorious World War II celebrants continued to mass. George thought, My God, Times Square is going wild. And at that point, so was George. He felt uncharacteristically blissful and jubilant. As George moved briskly toward the 42nd Street subway station, the sailor from The Sullivans outpaced his girlfriend. For the moment, no one could corral George. And no one tried—not even Rita. The realization of a triumphant war created more vigor than his large frame could hold. He needed to release the energy. Rita did her best to keep up. At most points she trailed him by only a few feet. Although she enjoyed the folic through Times Square, she wondered if George would ever stop for a breather.

In Search of the Picture

As the spirited celebration of Japan’s surrender grew, reporters from the Associated Press, The New York Times, the New York Daily News, and other well-known publications descended on Times Square to record the spontaneous merriment that was enveloping the world’s most important crossroads. Photographers added more bodies to a burgeoning impromptu gala. One of them represented Life magazine.

On August 14, 1945, the magazine sought pictures that differed from most others printed earlier in the war. On this day, Life wanted its viewers to know what the end of the war felt like. The editors didn’t know with any degree of certainty what incarnation that feeling might take, but they left it to their photographers to show them—just like they had with other events over the publication’s nine-year history. Those unsupervised approaches had rarely led to disappointment in the past, and Life’s editors trusted their photographers to deliver again today.

The magazine’s trust in its photographers was especially complete when Alfred Eisenstaedt was on assignment. He had photographed the people and personalities of World War II, some prior to the declaration of war and others even before Life existed. As a German Jew in the 1930s, he had chronicled the developing storm, including a picture of Benito Mussolini’s first meeting with Adolf Hitler in Venice, on June 13, 1934. In another shoot he’d photographed an Ethiopian soldier’s bare cracked feet on the eve of Fascist Italy’s attack in 1935.

After the outbreak of war between Japan and the United States, Eisenstaedt focused on the American home front. In 1942 he photographed a six-member Missouri draft board classifying a young farmer as 2-C, indicating draft deferment because of his occupation’s importance to the nation. For another series in 1945, he visited Washington and photographed freshman senators performing comical monologues and musical numbers to entertain Capitol reporters. During World War II, Eisenstaedt showed the world what war looked like on the U.S. mainland.

On the day World War II ended, Eisenstaedt entered Times Square dressed in a tan suit, a white shirt with a lined tie, tan saddle shoes, and a Leica camera hanging from his neck. Despite his distinctive ensemble, he traveled stealthily amongst the kaleidoscope of moving parts looking for the picture. He made sure not to call attention to himself. He was on the hunt. He knew there was a picture in the making. Kinetic energy filled the square. Eisenstaedt wished for others to feel it, too. To create that sense, Eisenstaedt’s photo needed a tactile element. It was a tall order for the five-foot, four-inch photographer. He relished the challenge.

At some point after 1:00 pm, Eisenstaedt took a picture of several women celebrating in front of a theater across the street from the 42nd Street subway station stairwell. The picture showed ladies throwing pieces of paper into the air, creating a mini-ticker-tape parade. While the photo had its charm, it was not the defining picture Eisenstaedt was searching for that day.

Shortly after closing the shutter on that scene, he turned to his left and looked up Broadway and 7th Avenue to where 43rd Street connected to Times Square’s main artery. As Eisenstaedt continued to search for a photograph that would forever define the moment at hand, he peered around and beneath, but probably not over, the sea of humanity. News of the war’s end had primed America’s meeting place for a one-in-a-million kind of picture. A prospect would present itself soon. Eisenstaedt knew that. So he looked and waited.

The Kiss

Greta Zimmer stood motionless in Times Square near a replica of the Statue of Liberty and a model of the Marines raising the flag at Iwo Jima. To Greta’s left was Childs restaurant, one of several in New York, including this establishment at 7th Avenue and 49th Street. But Greta did not come to Times Square to stare at statues or belly up to bars. She wanted to read the Times zipper and learn if Japan really had surrendered to the United States.

With the 44th Street sign and the Astor Hotel to her back, she looked up at the tall triangular building that divided one street into two. The lit message running around the Times Building read, “VJ, VJ, VJ, VJ . . .” Greta gazed at the moving type without blinking. A faint smile widened her lips and narrowed her eyes. She took in the moment fully and thought, The war is over. It’s really over.

Though Greta had arrived in Times Square by herself, she was not alone. While she continued to watch the motioning “VJ” message, hundreds of people moved around her. Greta paid little attention to the swelling mass of humanity. But they were about to take notice of her, and never forget what they saw. Within a few seconds she became Times Square’s nucleus. Everybody orbited around her, with one exception. He was drawn to her.

Fresh from the revelry at a Childs on 49th, George Mendonsa and his new girlfriend, Rita Petry, made their way down Times Square toward the 42nd Street subway station. Rita fell behind George by a few steps. Meanwhile, Eisenstaedt persisted in his hunt for the photo. After traveling a block or so up Times Square, he took notice of a fast moving sailor who he thought he saw grabbing a woman and kissing her. That sailor was heading quickly south down Broadway and 7th Avenue. Wondering what he might do next, Eisenstaedt changed direction and raced ahead of the darting sailor. To avoid bumping into people in the crowded street, he had to look away from the sailor he was trying to track. He struggled to regain his focus on the Navy man wearing the formal Navy blue uniform. As he did so, Greta looked away from the Times zipper and started to turn to her right. George crossed the intersection of 44th and 7th Avenue, lengthening the space between him and Rita. The photographer, the sailor, and the dental assistant were on a collision course.

With a quickening pace that matched the surrounding scene’s rising pulse, the sailor who served his country aboard The Sullivans zeroed in on a woman whom he assumed to be a nurse. The liquor running through his veins transfixed his glassy stare. He remembered a war scene when he had rescued maimed sailors from a burning ship in a vast ocean of water. Afterward, gentle nurses, angels in white, tended to the injured men. From the bridge of The Sullivans he watched them perform miracles. Their selfless service reassured him that one day the war would end. Peace would reign, again. That day had arrived.

George steamed forward several more feet. His girlfriend was now farther behind. He focused on Greta, the “nurse.” She remained unaware of his advance. That served his purpose well. He sought no permission for what he was about to do. He just knew that she looked like those nurses who saved lives during the war. Their care and nurturing had provided a short and precious reprieve from kamikaze-filled skies. But that nightmare had ended. And there she stood. Before him. With background noises barely registering, he rushed toward her as if in a vacuum.

Though George halted his steps just before running into Greta, his upper torso’s momentum swept over her. The motion’s force bent Greta backward and to her right. As he overtook Greta’s slender frame, his right hand cupped her slim waist. He pulled her inward toward his lean and muscular body. Her initial attempt to physically separate her person from the intruder proved a futile exertion against the dark-uniformed man’s strong hold. With her right arm pinned between their two bodies, she instinctively brought her left arm and clenched fist upward in defense. The effort was unnecessary. He never intended to hurt her.

As their lips locked, his left arm supported her neck. His left hand, turned backward and away from her face, offered the singular gesture of restraint, caution or doubt. The struck pose created an oddly appealing mixture of brutish force, caring embrace, and awkward hesitation. He didn’t let go. As he continued to lean forward, she lowered her right arm and gave over to her pursuer—but only for three or four seconds. He tried to hold her closer, wanting the moment to last longer. And longer still. But they parted, the space between them and the moment shared ever widening, releasing the heat born from their embrace into the New York summer afternoon.

The encounter, brief and impromptu, transpired beyond the participants’ governance. Even George, the initiator, commanded little more resolve than a floating twig in a rushing river of fate. He just had to kiss her. He didn’t know why.

For that moment, George had thought Times Square’s streets belonged to him. They did not. Alfred Eisenstaedt owned them. When he was on assignment, nothing worth capturing on film escaped his purview. Before George and Greta parted, Eisenstaedt spun around, aimed his Leica and clicked the camera’s shutter release closed four times. One of those clicks produced V-J Day, 1945, Times Square. That photograph became his career’s most famous, Life magazine’s most reproduced, and one of history’s most popular. The image of a sailor kissing a nurse on the day World War II ended kept company with Joe Rosenthal’s photo of the flag raising at Iwo Jima. That photo proudly exemplified what a hard-fought victory looks like. This photo savored what a long-sought peace feels like.

Alfred Eisenstaedt was not the only photographer to take notice of George and Greta. Navy Lieutenant Victor Jorgensen, standing to Eisenstaedt’s right, fired off one shot of the entwined couple at the precise moment the Life photographer took his second picture of four. Though Jorgensen’s photo did not captivate audiences to the same degree that Eisenstaedt’s second photograph did, Kissing the War Goodbye drew many admirers as well.

And then it was over. Shortly after the taking of V-J Day, 1945, Times Square, Greta returned to the dental office and told everyone what was happening on the streets. Dr. Berke had her cancel the rest of the day’s appointments and closed the office. Afterward, as Greta made her way home, another sailor kissed her, this time politely on the cheek. For this kiss Greta no longer wore her dental assistant uniform and no photographers took her picture. And as far she could tell, she had not been photographed at any point in time during that day. She did not learn otherwise until years later, when she saw Eisenstaedt’s photograph of a Times Square couple kissing in a book entitled The Eyes of Eisenstaedt.

George did not realize that he had been photographed, either. When George turned from the act he’d instigated, he smiled at Rita and offered little explanation for what had transpired. As hard as it is to believe, she made no serious objection. George’s actions fell within the acceptable norms of August 14, 1945, but not any other day. Actually, neither George nor Rita thought much of the episode and proceeded to Rita’s parents’ home via the 42nd Street subway train. Later that evening, the Petrys transported George to LaGuardia Airport for a flight to San Francisco that left at approximately midnight. Neither he nor Rita discovered Eisenstaedt’s V-J Day, 1945, Times Square until 1980.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[flock-from-the-void]

URL song tag game

Guys I love you so much. I saw this tag game and went "omg sounds cool would be nice if someone maybe tagged me" AND I GOT TAGGED T H R E E TIMES!!

Thank you @digital-chance (here) @writeblr-of-my-own (here) @avocado-frog (here)!!

RULES: spell your url with song titles and then tag as many people as there are letters.

I'm absolutely gonna do this three times lol. Another two below the cut <3

Some Cool Songs Version

F – found & lost – Survive Said The Prophet

L – LOST IN PARADISE – ALI, AKLO

O – Oh no! – MARINA

C – Cha Cha Cha – Käärijä

K – Kill the Sun – Motherfolk

F – Full Speed Ahead – Jorge Rivera-Herrans

R – Revenge, And a Little More – Unlike Pluto

O – Ollo – Hans Zimmer

M – Mulan – Lexie Liu

T – Tell It Like It Is – The Arcadian Wild

H – Hameln Wa Donoyounishite Fue Wo Fukunoka – Hello Sleepwalkers

E – Everything Moves – Bronze Radio Return

V – Venus Line – Kohmi Hirose

O – Our Lady of the Underground – Hadestown Original Broadway Cast

I – ivory – TOOBOE

D – Depression Is Here! – Jeremy Blake

16 letters! That's! A lot! Tagging, ofc no pressure!

@chuuyas-beloved

@jelliedoodles

@kamileonik

@ayakashibackstreet

@icedtoastt

@fatexweaver

@rongzhi

@jasperygrace

@anulithots

@theophan-o

@did-i-do-this-write

@fire-but-ashes-too

@gummybugg

@holdmyteaplease

@kaya9q

@afusiek

Other versions below the cut!

Polish Songs Version

F – Fabryka Małp – Lady Pank

L – Lipka – Łysa Góra

O – Otwieram wino (feat. Pezet) – Sidney Polak

C – Czarny chleb i czarna kawa – Strachy Na Lachy

K – Kołysanka dla Nieznajomej – Perfect

F – Fajnie, że jesteś – Wilki

R – Raz po raz (Straszą nas) – Perfect

O – Ogrodu Serce – Daab

M – Minus 10 w Rio – Perfect

T – Trójkąty i Kwadraty – Dawid Podsiadło

H – Hi-Fi – Wanda i Banda

E – Eroll – Wilki

V – Vademecum skauta – Lady Pank

O – Ostatnia Nocka – Yugopolis, Maciek Maleńczuk

I – I nikomu nie wolno się z tego śmiać – Kobranocka

D – Dwa Rzędy Kłów – Jerna

OC Playlists Version

F – Fhear A Bhata (The Boatman) – Silly Wizard

L – LIKE YXU WXULD KNXW (AUTUMN TREES) – Kordhell, Scarlxrd, CORPSE

O – Obiata – Jar

C – Cold Kind Hand – The Paper Kites

K – Killer Queen – Queen

F – Fuck This Shit I'm Out – The Theme Song

R – Requiem – Dear Evan Hansen Original Broadway Cast

O – Ode To Our Soldiers (Jinzhumami Zan) – Xu Jiangde

M – Metaphor – The Crane Wives

T – Tip Toes – half•alive

H – Heat Above – Greta Van Fleet

E – Everything Machine – half•alive

V – Vengeance – Killstation

O – One More Heartache – Peter Frampton Band

I – Infinitesimal – Mother Mother

D – Długość Dźwięku Samotności – Myslovitz

Okay, okay, some of them maybe are from my mood playlist for writing. There are, like, four song titles starting with O ever made, I had to get creative.

[diespulcher]

Hoffnungsschimmer

Friedhelm Winter x reader

Smut - P in V Sex, ungeschützter Sex (Verhütet, ihr Dummies!)

Das Cafe war moderat besucht. Ein paar Schuljungen und ältere Damen saßen auf den roten Plüschsesseln, doch Friedhelm beachtete sie nicht. Wut, Trauer, Reue und Angst vernebelten seine Sinne. Warum hatte er überlebt? Warum nicht Wilhelm? Das Weinen seiner Mutter, als er gegangen war, klang in seinen Ohren nach. Und auch den enttäuschten Blick seines Vaters konnte er nicht loswerden.

Immer wieder spulten sich die Bilder der letzten Wochen vor seinem inneren Auge ab - Die Telegrafenstation, Wilhelm, der die Hoffnung verloren hatte… Als sich zwei Schulknaben neben ihn stellten und ihn zu seinen Abzeichen ausfragten. Friedhelm fühlte sich unsanft aus seinen Erinnerungen gerissen und konnte kaum folgen, was die Jungen da von sich gaben. Er wollte ihnen aber auch nicht zuhören oder ihnen gar antworten. Erst als der Ober kam und die Jungen von ihm wegzerrte, verstand er, was der eine zu ihm sagte: "Und so etwas kämpft für Deutschland. Das ist eine Schande!"

Er saß noch lange so da, wie versteinert. Wo sollte er jetzt hin? Was sollte er jetzt tun? Zu seinen Eltern konnte und wollte er nicht zurück. Direkt zurück an die Front? Auch undenkbar. Zu Greta? Die war bestimmt in der Weltgeschichte unterwegs, um berühmt zu werden. Lustlos entschloss er sich, sich in eine Kneipe ein paar Straßen weiter zu setzen und zu trinken, bis er nicht mehr wusste, wer oder wo er war.

Sie beobachtete ihn schon eine Weile, den hoffnungslosen Soldaten, wie er da an der Theke lehnte und ein Bier nach dem anderen in sich hineingoß als gäbe es kein morgen mehr. Normalerweise blieb sie diesen Männern fern, aber dieser erinnerte sie an jemanden, aber wie wusste nicht, an wen -  Einen verflossenen Liebhaber vielleicht. Plötzlich packte sie Mitleid, was dieser Junge, der kaum älter war als sie, schon gesehen haben musste, dass er so trank, musste unvorstellbar sein.

Friedhelm schrak aus seinen düsteren Gedanken auf, als er die Bewegung neben sich bemerkte. Eine Frau. Braune Augen, schöne, rot geschminkte Lippen. “Haben Sie Feuer?”, fragte die junge Frau mit einem Lächeln. Friedhelm starrte sie einen Moment unsicher und verwirrt an, ehe er sich besann und wahrnahm, wie attraktiv diese Frau war.

Nach ein paar Minuten Gespräch mit der jungen Frau schien Friedhelms Melancholie wie weggeblasen. Sie hatte ihn komplett um ihren rot lackierten kleinen Finger gewickelt. Er beobachtete gebannt ihr Lächeln, das Wippen ihres Haares und ihre Finger, die den seinen immer näher kamen. Er spürte ein Kribbeln seinen Rücken hinunterlaufen, als das Mädchen ihre Finger sanft über seine unverletzte Hand gleiten ließ. Er war ihr dankbar, dass sie nicht nach seiner Verletzung gefragt hatte. Friedhelm wollte nicht an den Krieg denken, wollte vergessen und wenn er sich nicht im Alkohol verlieren konnte, dann in diesem Mädchen, in ihren Augen, ihren duftenden Haaren, ihrer weichen Haut und ihrer anmutigen Figur. Mittlerweile war ihre Hand an seiner Schulter angekommen und zeichnete dort kleine Kreise. Friedhelm beugte sich vor, um sie zu küssen, doch kurz bevor ihre Lippen sich berührten, drehte sie den Kopf und sein Kuss landete auf ihrer Wange. “Nicht hier, lass uns zahlen.", flüsterte sie.

Sie schafften es gerade noch in eine dunkle Seitenstraße, ehe ihre Lippen aufeinander trafen. Sie hielt sein Gesicht fest in beiden Händen und küsste ihn voller Leidenschaft, als wären seine Küsse die Luft, die sie zum Atmen brauchte. Und auch Friedhelm hielt sie fest an sich gepresst mit seinem unverletzten Arm. Nur fühlen, nicht denken.

Als sie in ihre Wohnung taumelten, schämte sie sich auf einmal dafür, wie klein und dunkel das Zimmer war, das sie ihr Eigen nannte, doch Friedhelm schien seine Umgebung gar nicht zu bemerken - Er hatte nur Augen für sie und schon waren seine Lippen wieder auf ihren. Er küsste sie voller Verlangen, nicht aggressiv, aber doch eindringlich. Ihre Hände wanderten zu den Knöpfen seiner Uniform, doch die Schlinge mit seinem Arm war im Weg. Sie löste ihren Kuss, um zu sehen, was ihre Hände taten und um ihm nicht wehzutun. Sie mussten beide lachen, als ihr die Knöpfe immer wieder aus den Fingern rutschten, doch irgendwann war die Feldbluse geöffnet und sie küssten sich erneut. Diesmal drängender und härter. Sie fühlte, wie der junge Mann sie in Richtung des Tisches drückte und ließ sich willig in die Richtung schieben. Ohne ihren Kuss zu lösen, hievte das Mädchen sich auf den Tisch und fühlte gleich darauf Friedhelms Hand, wie sie sich ihren Oberschenkel entlang unter ihren Rock schob und ihr ganzer Unterleib begann sich mit einem warmen Kribbeln zu füllen und sie merkte, wie sie feucht wurde. "Friedhelm, bitte, ich brauche dich jetzt!”, flüsterte sie dicht an seinen Lippen und seine Hände kamen der Stelle, an der sie sie am dringendsten brauchte immer näher und streichelten sie schließlich über den Stoff ihres Unterhöschens hinweg. Friedhelm schien zu wissen, was er tat und bald schon stöhnte sie, als sich seine Finger unter den Stoff stahlen. Seine verlangenden Küsse wanderten ihren Hals hinunter auf ihr Dekolletee zu, während seine Finger ihre Klitoris fanden und sie zu massieren begannen. “Kannst du dein Kleid öffnen?”, fragte er mit einem listigen Lächeln,”meine Hände sind gerade leider beschäftigt.”. Ihr Lachen ging gleich in ein Stöhnen über, als sie seinem Wunsch nachkam und um sich herum griff, um ihr Kleid zu öffnen. Kaum dass sie ihr Kleid von den Schultern geschüttelt hat und ihre Brüste entblößt sind, fühlt das Mädchen auch schon Friedhelms Lippen auf diesen. Seine geschickten Finger der unversehrten Hand und die Küsse und das Lecken und Knabbern an ihren Brüsten, bringt sie immer näher an ihren Orgasmus heran. “Friedhelm gleich, gleich ist es so weit...", stöhnt sie und der junge Mann lässt nicht nach, während die Wellen ihres Orgamuses über sie hinwegrollen.

Ein Moment wird es ruhig. Friedhelm hört nur ihrer beiden Atem und blickt das Mädchen neugierig an, dass da vor ihm auf dem Tisch sitzt und zufrieden lächelt. “So, und jetzt bist du dran.”, sagt sie und greift nach seinem Gürtel. Ihre Finger sind warm, als sie sich in seine Unterhose schlängeln und sich um seinen Penis legen. Friedhelm hilft ihr, seine Hose und Unterhose in seine Kniekehlen hinabzuschieben. Ihre geschickten Finger sorgen schnell dafür, dass Friedhelms Penis sich komplett erigiert dem Mädchen entgegenreckt. Kurz darauf rutscht sie an die Kante des Tisches und spreizt ihre Beine. Sie und Friedhelm stöhnen unisono, als er vorsichtig in sie eindringt. Doch schon ein paar Augenblicke später übernimmt wieder die Lust und Friedhelm stößt kräftiger und schneller zu. Er beobachtet fasziniert ihre Brüste während sein Penis immer wieder aus ihr hinaus- und hineingleitet. Als das Mädchen ihn wieder zu sich zieht, um ihn zu küssen, kann Friedhelm nicht mehr an sich halten und lässt los, verliert sich in ihrem Körper und ihren gemeinsamen Bewegungen und kommt mit einem lauten Stöhnen. Diesmal ist er es, der ihr Gesicht an sich zieht, um sie zu küssen, als er das letzte Mal aus ihr herausgleitet.

Nun liegt er hier mit diesem Mädchen in ihrem Bett. Sie hat sich fest in seinen Arm gekuschelt, schnarcht leise und ihr Haar ist über seine Brust verteilt. Und obwohl Friedhelm weiß, dass überall um sie herum auf der Welt der Krieg tobt, verspürt er das erste Mal seit Jahren sowas wie einen Hoffnungsschimmer, während er durch das kleine Dachfenster verfolgt, wie ein neuer Morgen aufzieht.

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first ten tracks, then tag ten people

Thank you to my fellow Old Continent grestie @lightmylove-gvf for the tag.

I am going to tag @gvfpal @giraffehippy @twistedmelodies @reesetrippingthelight and anyone who hasn't already done this and wants to.

[byneddiedingo]

Two by Jacques Feyder

Cécile Guyon, Françoise Rosay, and Jean Forest in Gribiche (Jacques Feyder, 1926)

Carnival in Flanders (Jacques Feyder, 1935)

Belgian-born director Jacques Feyder established his career in France during the silent era, and went to work for MGM in Hollywood in 1929 to direct Greta Garbo in her last silent movie, The Kiss. But Hollywood was more interested in having him direct foreign-language versions of movies after talkies came in: Before dubbing became a common practice, films were often made in two versions, one in English for the American and British markets, others in various languages for overseas audiences. So Feyder was tasked with making a German-language version of Garbo's first talkie, Anna Christie (1931), though he also made two movies starring Ramon Novarro, Daybreak (1931) and Son of India (1931). Disillusionment with Hollywood sent him back to France, where he made his most famous film, Carnival in Flanders, in 1935. The rise of the Nazis, who banned that film after they invaded France in 1940, caused Feyder and his wife, Françoise Rosay, who starred in many of his movies, to move to Switzerland, where his career stalled and he died, only 62, in 1948. After the New Wave filmmakers began to dominate French film, Feyder's reputation began to wane: François Truffaut said of Carnival in Flanders that it represented a tendency to make everything "pleasant and perfect," As a result, David Thomson has said, "Feyder may be unfairly neglected today just as once he was injudiciously acclaimed."

Gribiche (Jacques Feyder, 1926)

Cast: Jean Forest, Rolla Norman, Françoise Rosay, Cécile Guyon, Alice Tissot. Screenplay: Jacques Feyder, based on a novel by Frédéric Boutet. Cinematography:  Maurice Desfassiaux, Maurice Forster. Production design: Lazare Meerson. 

The young actor Jean Forest had been discovered by Feyder and his wife, Françoise Rosay, and he starred in three films for the director, of which this was the last. It's a peculiar fable about charity. Forest plays Antoine Belot, nicknamed "Gribiche," who sees a rich woman, Edith Maranet (Rosay), drop her purse in a department store and returns it to her, spurning a reward. Edith is a do-gooder full of theories about "social hygiene." Impressed by the boy's honesty, Edith goes to his home, a small flat above some shops, where he lives with his widowed mother, Anna (Cécile Guyon), and proposes that she adopt Gribiche and educate him. Anna is reluctant to give up the boy, but Gribiche, knowing that Anna is being courted by Phillippe Gavary (Rolla Norman), and believing that he stands in the way of their marriage, agrees to the deal. When her rich friends ask about how she found Gribiche, Edith tells increasingly sentimental and self-serving stories -- dramatized by Feyder -- about the poverty in which she found him and his mother. But the boy is unhappy with the cold, sterile environment of Edith's mansion and the regimented approach to his education, and on Bastille Day, when the common folk of Paris are celebrating in what Edith regards as "unhygienic" ways, he finds his way back to his mother's home. Edith is furious, but eventually is persuaded to see reality and agrees to let him live with Anna and Phillippe, who have married, while she pays for his education. The whole thing is implausible, but the performances of Forest and Rosay, and especially the production design by Lazare Meerson, make it watchable and occasionally quite charming. Carnival in Flanders (Jacques Feyder, 1935)

Cast: Françoise Rosay, André Alerme, Jean Murat, Louis Jouvet, Micheline Chierel, Lyne Clevers Bernard Lancret. Screenplay: Bernard Zimmer, Jacques Feyder, based on a story by Charles Spaak. Cinematography: Harry Stradling Sr. Production design: Lazare Meerson. Film editing: Jacques Brillouin. Music: Louis Beydts. 

Feyder's best-known film is something of a feminist fable, a kind of inversion of Lysistrata, in which the women of Boom, a village in 17th century Flanders that is occupied by the Spanish save the town from the pillage and plunder that the men of the village expect. Françoise Rosay plays the wife of the burgomaster (André Alerme), who holes up in his house, pretending to have died. The other officials of the town likewise sequester themselves. But the merry wives of Boom decide to wine, dine, and otherwise entertain the occupying Spaniards. It's all quite saucily entertaining, though undercut by a tiresome subplot (suspiciously reminiscent of that in Shakespeare's own play about merry wives) involving the burgomaster's daughter (Micheline Chierel) and her love for the young painter Julien Brueghel (Bernard Lancret), of whom the burgomaster disapproves. Again, Rosay's performance is a standout, as is Lazare Meerson's design: The village, with its evocation of the paintings of the Flemish masters, was created in a Paris suburb, with meticulous attention to detail, including the men's unflattering period costumes, designed by Georges K. Benda. The cinematography is by the American Harry Stradling Sr., who built his reputation in Europe before returning to Hollywood.

[onomastik]

𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔞

BEDEUTUNG: Die Perle, Kind des Licht HERKUNFT: Deutsch GESCHLECHT: weiblich NAMENSTAG: 20. Juli URSPRUNG: Margareta VARIANTEN: Gretha, Gretta, Gréta ALTERNATIV: Grete, Gretchen, Gretel GEGENGESCHLECHT: Gretus DIMINUTIV: Gretl, Gretchen BELIEBTHEIT: Deutsch, Skandinavien, Italien, Ungarn DOPPELNAMEN: Greta-Marie, Greta-Luisa PROMINENZ: Greta Garbo (swe. Schauspielerin) Greta Thunberg (swe. Klimaaktivistin) Greta Gerwig (US-Regisseurin) Greta Scacchi (ital. Schauspielerin) Greta Keller (öst. Sängerin) Greta Kuckhoff (deu. Widerstandskämpferin) Greta Schröder (deu. Stummschauspielerin) Greta Zimmer Friedmann (öst. Fotopersönlichkeit) Greta Gouda (öst. Schauspielerin) Greta Bickelhaupt (deu. Schriftstellerin) Greta Van Sustern (US-Fernsehmoderatorin) Greta Svabo Bach (isl. Sängerin) Greta Salóme (isl. Sängerin) Greta Galisch de Palma (deu. Schauspielerin) Greta Kempton (US-Malerin) Greta Anderson (dän. Schwimmerin) Greta Vaillant ( frz. Schauspielerin) Greta Koçi (alb. Sängerin) Greta Menchi (ital. YouTuberin) Greta Ferušić (bosn. Überlebende) FIKTION: Greta (Angelina Ballerina) Greta (Filly) Greta (Gone Girl) Greta (Lars der Eisbär) Greta (My Little Pony) Greta Birnstein (Meine teuflisch gute Freundin) Greta Doppler (Dark) Greta Evans (The Boy) Greta Müller (Unsere Mütter, unsere Väter) Greta Ohlsson (Mord im Orientexpress) Greta Wolfcastle (Die Simpsons)

[oliviagardnerardn632]

WEEK 5: V-J DAY 1945

DENOTATIONS:

man in the navy

40s/50s

lady in a white dress - uniform, medical of some kind

middle of a town square

american buildings, looks like New York?

busy hustle bustle of an environment

lots of movement in the image

awkward positioning of the lady

framing can manipulate perspective and emotion in the image..we don't know if the outside of the frame there could be people crying or alone.

CONNOTATIONS:

happy celebration

given the timeframe it's the end of world war II

candid/unplanned image

kiss feels very spontaneous

lots of passion/positivity in the image

After discussing this image, we thought that the lady looked very awkward at smushed in this kiss. According to the history behind it, this image by Alfred Eisenstaedt captures "a jubilant American sailor clutching a dental assistant in a back-bending kiss at a moment of spontaneous joy about the long-awaited WWII victory over Japan. Taken on V-J Day, 1945, as thousands jammed Times Square. In recent decades this iconic photograph has engendered condemnation, after Greta Zimmer Friedman, the woman being kissed by the sailor (believed to have been George Mendonsa) said that the kiss was nonconsensual."

[xneontragedyx]

The photograph you’ve shared captures a moment in history, but without additional context, it’s challenging to determine the specific fate of the individuals depicted. However, I can share some insights about other famous photographs and what happened to the people in them:

V-J Day Kiss Photo:

The iconic World War II photograph of a sailor kissing a nurse in Times Square on August 14, 1945, symbolized jubilance and relief upon the war’s end.

The nurse in the photo was Greta Zimmer Friedman, who later confirmed her identity.

The sailor was George Mendonsa, who spontaneously kissed her in celebration.

Friedman described it as a celebratory moment, not a romantic event1.

Warsaw Ghetto Uprising Photo:

Taken during the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising in 1943, this picture shows people thrown out of the ghetto by German troops.

Many were killed, and the rest were sent to concentration camps as retaliation for their actions against Jews2.

Little Rock Nine ‘Scream Image’:

The iconic photo captured Elizabeth Eckford, one of the Little Rock Nine, being screamed at by Hazel Bryan during the desegregation of Little Rock Central High School in 1957.

In 1997, photographer Will Counts arranged for Eckford and Bryan to meet, and they reconciled after 40 years3.

Mother and Daughter Falling from a Fire Escape:

Taken in 1975, this photo shows 19-year-old Diana Bryant and her 2-year-old goddaughter Tiare Jones falling from a burning apartment building’s collapsed fire escape in Boston.

The circumstances surrounding this tragic event remain heartbreaking4.

Remember that each photograph tells a unique story, and sometimes the full details are lost to history. If you have any specific context or additional information about the people in your photograph, feel free to share, and I’ll do my best to provide relevant insights. 😊