#public recreation facilities

[townpostin]

Adityapur Municipal Corporation Launches Park Beautification Drive

Administrator Warns Against Political Interference in Development Projects AMC’s comprehensive plan aims to transform local parks into modern recreational spaces, enhancing community well-being and urban aesthetics. JAMSHEDPUR – The Adityapur Municipal Corporation (AMC) has initiated an ambitious project to revitalize parks across its jurisdiction, focusing on four key locations. AMC…

[haunt-the-ikea]

I’ve lived in and totally understand the hate for American suburbs (suburban sprawl, neighborhood detached from everything else, identical garage front houses, too big lawns, chain restaurants, driving everywhere, no public transit, 40 minutes from the city) but also I do live in and love an American suburb (walkable neighborhood, historic homes and apartments, good use of alleys and outdoor spaces, 15 min from downtown, integrated with city bus system, basically a small town that’s conveniently close to a food and music scene).

[bigvolcano]

Take a walk in the park: new upgraded playground at Recreation Ground opens

A newly upgraded, inclusive playground at Recreation Ground at Tweed Heads was officially opened on March 15th, providing much-needed play space for young families in the most populated area of the Tweed Shire.

Endless fun for families at new play space in Tweed Heads The newly upgraded park at Recreation Street, Tweed Heads was officially opened today. The upgrade includes larger and more challenging play equipment for kids, a shade structure for sun protection, natural play integration into the landscape and access improvements through the play space. A newly upgraded, inclusive playground at…

[bet-on-me-13]

Captive AU

So, the GIW has been around for a while.

Ghosts have been a problem for centuries, the US Government wouldn't have waited until the 21st Century to figure out a way to deal with them, so the GIW has been around for years. And the general Public knows about them, it's a common household name like the FBI or the CIA. They are simply seen as another government organization doing its job, no need to care about the Ghosts they capture, they're Non-Sentient anyways.

Over the years of their existence, they have acquired their own little prison full of Ghosts. And among that collection of Ghosts, 4 stand out.

Because they are somehow Ghost-Human Hybrids.

The first was captured a while before the others. A College Student studying Ectology had been admitted to the Hospital after a Lab Accident, where he had been diagnosed with an, as of yet, unknown and incurable Disease. He had Green Boils popping up all over his Face, and he was in excruciating Pain.

The GIW had sent a team to investigate, and they had found that the College Student was slowly transforming into some type of abomination. He was still partially human, but he was also partially a Ghost. They had him declared Dead and shipped him off to a Blacksite Facility to be experimented on.

...

The Second One came about 10 years later. Coincidentally, it was very similar circumstances. The very same pair of scientists who had been acquainted with their previous subject had just admitted their 5 Yr old son into a local Hospital. He had been in a Lab Accident that had stopped his Heart for a few minutes, and out of curiosity the GIW had sent a Team to investigate.

And what did they find, but a perfect recreation of their favorite Test Subject.

They declared the Child Dead, and sent him off to the same Facility they kept the other one in.

...

The 3rd of the Hybrids was actually created in a GIW Lab, 3 Years Later. In an experiment to see if the Hybrids condition could be recreated, a GIW Scientist had taken the DNA of the 2 existing Hybrids and had cloned them.

Of the Test Batch of 15, only 1 Subject survived. It was deemed only a Partial Success, because while they did manage to create a New Hybrid, it was Unstable and prone to melting if overexerted.

They placed it in the same Containment Unit as the other 2, and left it at that. No more Cloning Experiments had been conducted afterwards since the project was deemed an overall Failure.

...

The 4th and Final Hybrid was found in Gotham City of all places, 2 years later.

A GIW Operative had been visiting Family when their Van's Ecto-Detector had gone off. Soon after that they found the Subject in an Alleyway, seemingly disoriented from its recent awakening.

DNA testing had revealed the Hybrid to be deceased Jason Peter Todd, the adopted Son of Bruce Wayne who had been killed 6 Months Prior while studying in Ethiopia. By the Scientists Best Guess, an Anomoly in Space-Time had caused a Natural Portal to open right on top of the Teenagers Corpse, fusing his Deceased Body and nearly formed Ghost into One.

They shipped the Teen off to the Blacksite, and placed him in the same Containment Unit as the others.

...

So now the GIW have 4 Hybrids, all created from different circumstances, all different ages.

One was formed from the Slow Death of a College Age Student, after a Lab Accident had flooded his system with Pure Ectoplasm.

One was form from the Instant Death of a 5 yr old Boy, after a Lab Accident had flooded his Body with a dimensions worth of Ectoplasm.

One was created in a GIW Lab in a Cloning Experiment. She was created to be 3 Yrs Old upon Birth, and was Unstable as a Result.

One was created from the Fusion of a Long Dead Teenage Corpse and a nearly formed Ghost, in a random Space Time Event that forced both together.

...

All the Halfas are basically a Family together. Vlad is the oldest, at around 35, and takes the Paternal Role.

Danny and Ellie are the Kids, and are 10 and 5 respectively.

Jason is the Oldest Child, and takes his Older Brother role very seriously. He is 15 when he is brought in.

They all take care of eachother, through all the experiments and tests the GIW force them through.

One of the most common experiments is to have them battle the other Ghosts in Captivity. Although that is just a thinly veiled dog fighting ring that the GIW scientists like to Bet on. Sometimes they are put up against eachother, but they refuse to fight until they are electrocuted into submission.

They were also forced to Push all of their Powers to their Limits every day, just so the Scientist can see how they are growing. This had drained them, since they only got the absolute minimum amount of Ecto to survive off of, and they were forced to use it all up every day.

This goes on for 3 more years.

...

Until the day when the GIW messed up.

During one of their Constant Dog Fights, they had made the mistake of putting two Electricity Core Ghosts against eachother. The resulting battle had created an Electromagnetic Wave that fried all systems in the entire Facility.

It was a Disaster. Dozens of Scientists were killed when the Door Locks failed to contain the captive Ghosts, and even more were injured when a few of the Ghosts managed to break into the Armory on Base.

It was only hours after the whole ordeal was Finally quelled that they realized that their most Valuable Test Subjects were missing.

Vlad, Danny, Jason, and Ellie had taken the chance to run away during the commotion. Vlad had unfortunately been injured during the escape, and Ellie had been forced to use her powers causing her to destabilize a little, but all in all they had managed to escape on one piece.

But now they were fugitives on the run from the Government, with an injured adult and a sick child.

Jason had an Idea though. While he didn't have very clear memories of his life, a side effect of his late resurrection, he did remember that he used to live in Gotham. And they all remember researchers grumbling about how their scanners always malfunction when they passed nearby Gotham.

So, Jason led his little Family to the most Familiar place in the city he could think of.

Crime Alley.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Ending mass human deprivation and providing good lives for the whole world's population can be accomplished while at the same time achieving ecological objectives. This is demonstrated by a new study by the Institute of Environmental Science and Technology of the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona (ICTA-UAB) and the London School of Economics and Political Science, recently published in World Development Perspectives. About 80% of humanity cannot access necessary goods and services and lives below the threshold for "decent living." Some narratives claim that addressing this problem will require massive economic growth on a global scale, multiplying existing output many times over, which would exacerbate climate change and ecological breakdown. The authors of the new study dispute this claim and argue that human development does not require such a dangerous approach. Reviewing recent empirical research, they find that ending mass deprivation and provisioning decent living standards for 8.5 billion people would require only 30% of current global resource and energy use, leaving a substantial surplus for additional consumption, public luxury, scientific advancement, and other social investments. This would ensure that everyone in the world has access to nutritious food, modern housing, high-quality health care, education, electricity, induction stoves, sanitation systems, clothing, washing machines, refrigerators, heating/cooling systems, computers, mobile phones, internet, and transport, and could also include universal access to recreational facilities, theaters, and other public goods. The authors argue that, to achieve such a future, strategies for development should not pursue capitalist growth and increased aggregate production as such but should rather increase the specific forms of production that are necessary to improve capabilities and meet human needs at a high standard, while ensuring universal access to key goods and services through public provisioning and decommodification. In the Global South, this requires using industrial policy to increase economic sovereignty, develop industrial capacity, and organize production around human well-being. At the same time, in high-income countries, less-necessary production (of things like mansions, SUVs, private jets and fast fashion) must be scaled down to enable faster decarbonization and to help bring resource use back within planetary boundaries, as degrowth scholarship holds.

July 25 2024

[rjzimmerman]

From The Nature Conservancy:

Thirteen state and local ballot initiatives related to climate and conservation, totaling more than $18 billion, that The Nature Conservancy engaged in were approved by voters in the United States yesterday. “When the issue of conservation and climate is highlighted and elevated on the ballot, we find time and again that voters overwhelmingly support these initiatives,” said TNC’s Senior Director of Strategy Adam Snyder. “This year is no different, with 66% of voters supporting conservation and climate proposals.”

California: $10 billion climate bond that funds climate resilience, protecting clean drinking water and preventing catastrophic wildfires. Read TNCs statement here.

Washington: An effort to roll back the state's Climate Commitment Act was defeated. The CCA provides millions for conservation, climate and wildfire funding, including funding for Tribal nations and at-risk communities.

Minnesota: Renewal of the Environment and Natural Resources Trust Fund for another 25 years. The fund will provide $2 billion ($80 million per year from state lottery proceeds) to protect water, land and wildlife across the state. Read the statement here. 

Suffolk County, N.Y.: Voters approved a ballot measure that will generate $6 billion for clean water and conservation over the next 30 years. 

Colorado: Remove the cap for water funding from an existing tax on sports gaming revenue, which will generate an additional $2 to $5 million.

Dupage, Kane, McHenry and Lake counties, Ill.: More than $500 million for conservation and forest preserve districts to buy land, maintain existing public places and improve public recreation opportunities.

Jasper County, S.C.: A sales tax for transportation, which includes a greenbelt component for land conservation that totals $94 million over the life of the program.

Louisiana: Directing federal revenues received by the state from energy production (such as wind, solar, tidal, wave and other alternative or renewable energy sources) to the Coastal Protection and Restoration Fund.

Maine: A $30 million bond that will fund a four-year grant program aimed at enhancing and expanding the state’s trail networks. 

Rhode Island: A $53 million environmental bond that will fund a variety of programs, including open space and parks, coastal resilience, forest management and restoration, farmland protection, brownfield reclamation and upgrading a port facility to support offshore wind development.

[tjodity]

HOA Compliance of different bases on the SDMP, according to JSchlatt and CaptainSparklez:

Mika: Not HOA Compliant (no structural support, dead animal outside, insects indoors, fungus growing out of ceiling, renting out apartments without permit) Fine 20 diamonds

Telepathics: Not HOA Compliant (no structural support, barn animal indoors, inability to fix issues) Fine 30 diamonds, whittled down to 19 after paying gold and rubies

Meowriza: HOA Compliant (modern style, structural support, public recreational facilities, two tickets for the fighting arena given to Schlatt and Sparklez) No fine

Aztrosist: Not HOA Compliant (anti-Schlatt poster, large opium farm hidden in the basement) Fine 50 diamonds

Connoreatspants: Not HOA Compliant (no structural support) No fine, told to fix issues

Hunter_hhhh: HOA Compliant (Clearly marked entrances, attention to style, restaurant to the community's benefit, apartment is not occupied, fire exits, selling drugs for Schlatt and Sparklez) No fine

(to be updated with more)

[visit-new-york]

How did the idea for Brooklyn Bridge Park originated, and when was it established?

Brooklyn Bridge Park stands as a testament to urban revitalization and community-driven development, offering a picturesque oasis along the East River waterfront. The park's inception is rooted in a combination of civic activism, visionary planning, and the desire to transform a neglected industrial waterfront into a vibrant public space. In this article, we delve into the fascinating history of Brooklyn Bridge Park, exploring its origins and the journey that led to its establishment.

The Genesis of the Idea:

The idea for Brooklyn Bridge Park germinated in the 1980s, a time when the Brooklyn waterfront was marked by dilapidated piers and neglected industrial spaces. The seeds of change were sown when community activists, urban planners, and environmental advocates began envisioning a transformation of this underutilized waterfront into a dynamic green space for the public to enjoy.

One of the key catalysts for the park's creation was the collapse of the old Brooklyn-Queens Expressway (BQE) that ran along the waterfront. This incident forced a reevaluation of the use of the space, sparking conversations about creating a park that could serve as a recreational haven and a connector between various Brooklyn neighborhoods.

Community Engagement and Planning:

The idea gained momentum through extensive community engagement and collaboration. Local residents, environmental groups, and civic organizations joined forces to advocate for the creation of a waterfront park that would preserve open space, provide recreational opportunities, and enhance the overall quality of life in Brooklyn.

In the early 2000s, the Brooklyn Bridge Park Development Corporation (BBPDC) was established to oversee the planning and development of the park. An ambitious master plan was crafted, envisioning a park that seamlessly integrated natural landscapes, recreational facilities, and cultural spaces.

Establishment and Development:

Brooklyn Bridge Park officially broke ground in 2008, marking the beginning of a transformative journey. The park was developed in phases, with each section carefully designed to cater to a diverse range of interests and activities. The conversion of old industrial piers into recreational and cultural hubs became a hallmark of the park's development.

The park's features include sports fields, playgrounds, waterfront promenades, and even a floating pool. Piers 1 through 6 were successively opened to the public, with each phase adding new dimensions to the park's offerings. The adaptive reuse of historic structures, like the Empire Stores and the Tobacco Warehouse, added cultural depth to the park, connecting visitors with the rich history of the Brooklyn waterfront.

Brooklyn Bridge Park Today:

Brooklyn Bridge Park has become a cherished destination for locals and tourists alike. Its success lies not only in its stunning design and diverse amenities but also in its ability to foster a sense of community and connection. The park continues to evolve, with plans for additional sections and improvements that promise to enhance the visitor experience further.

Conclusion:

Brooklyn Bridge Park stands as a testament to the power of community vision and collaborative urban planning. From its humble beginnings as a dream to transform a neglected waterfront into a thriving public space, the park has become a symbol of Brooklyn's resilience and creativity. As it continues to grow and adapt to the changing needs of its community, Brooklyn Bridge Park remains a shining example of how thoughtful development can transform urban landscapes and enhance the quality of life for generations to come.

[mapsontheweb]

This map shows the land that was newly developed in the United States from 2008 to 2019. The development may be for public or private uses — homes, commercial or industrial buildings, recreational facilities, or public buildings.

[vandaliatraveler]

Bickle Knob is the high point on Forest Road 91 in the Monongahela National Forest, which traverses some of the wildest and most beautiful areas of the Allegheny Mountains. Depending on which end you enter, the gravel road starts or finishes with the Stuart Recreation Area and the Otter Creek Wilderness. Bickle Knob rises roughly halfway between the two, with Bear Heaven Campground squeezed into a sharp bend on the descent from the top of the mountain. Bickle Knob is most notable for hosting one of the few remaining forest service fire towers in West Virginia, which is accessible to the public. The original cab has been removed and replaced with an open viewing platform. Views are breathtaking in all directions. The tower and other facilities in the area were built by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) in the early days of the national forest system. The most evident artifact, aside from the fire tower, is the gorgeous stonework of an historic water well located along the road, a memorable legacy from a day and an age when hand-carved and constructed edifices were both a necessity and an artform; they need to be restored and protected for future generations.

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

american suburbia is a lie and so is american urbanism now that we live in a capitalist post-dystopia

because walkability is probably never going to be achieved in our lifetimes. Does anyone else ever just sit and think about this? I grew up as a kid in the suburbs and now live as an adult in the city. Yes, I know there's privilege within both of these living situations, but I also think that American "Exceptionalism" is not anything of the sort and should be criticized when most suburbs have no good public transport or even things to do. How is a person supposed to be enriched in a social way, to have fun with their friends, to build community?

Just imagine what a walkable community could look like. Within five to ten minutes of you, you have the essentials for living and some enjoyable things too. A grocery store. A cafe A daycare. A school. A gas station. A park with a playground. A library. Then imagine that within twenty minutes, you have your workplace, you have a place to go shopping, a good restaurant, a town hall, a community college, a couple of bars. Within half an hour's travel time by public transport, there are things that are less essential for survival, but still important for recreation and cultural enrichment: there's a museum, a strip club, a spot to go hiking, a fancy restaurant, a sports facility, a live theatre venue. If you travel out an hour or so away there are other towns to visit, cities nearby that you can venture into on the weekends, and the highway is very short.

These things are much more achievable in the city, but are so corporate that it can't even foster community. Your local cafe is a Starbucks, your local restaurant is a Chili's, and even the arts centers are privatized. We don't live in communities, we live in Walmart parking lots. We live in Disney World. America is not a real country.

[bodybeyondstories]

dicks keep growing around me - 7 (Myron)

Ty hatches a plan to make some extra spicy content using Myron's ability. Myron begrudges after some self-reflection, and things tumble further than either of them expect.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 (Previous) | 8 (Next)

male TF // growth // dick growth // butt growth // nsfw

4478 words

(This is now the longest running series and I have two more DKGAM chapters that I started developing as I was writing this one. Might be settling back into a writing mood, so that's cool. Also I've just really been enjoying sitting with these characters)

---

[Me: It’s not that I’m opposed to it]

[Ty: But you’re not *not* opposed to it]

[Me: I’m ruminating on the situation]

[Ty: Ok! We love to ruminate!]

[Me: It’s just risky…]

[Ty: What could possibly go wrong?]

I briefly considered the laundry list of mishaps and mayhem that had consistently been falling into my life, baffled by the thought that Ty’s superdick ripping through their pants and coating their car in jizz had somehow not scared them away from me in perpetuity. They could barely keep the baseball bat swinging between their legs under wraps and were by whatever tiny miracle cool with that.

[Ty: ok actually don’t answer that. We’ll be careful this time!]

[Me: Is careful in the room with us now?]

[Ty: Just once. We recreate my l'il episode in the locker room, but with some rippage. Just enough to wow the viewers. That's it!]

[Me: You mean when you got all up in my underwear and almost ruined your own 🤨]

[Ty: Exactly 😙! But this will be more of a controlled scenario. ‘Dicks keep growing around me,’ in your words. They'll eat this up.]

I never should’ve uttered that phrase. I sat curled on the couch and levied an exasperated sigh at my phone. It's always some sort of antic with this one. I thought that inadvertently turning us into medical mysteries verging on freaks of nature would temper my former roommate’s exhibitionist imagination, but they were doing a great job of rolling with the punches–much better than poor Miguel and his window washing beau. But Ty seemed to thrive with the mammoth appendage springing from their groin, and it was their body to do what they felt like. And I do like to help my friends, even if in my own unique way.

I rested a hand on my hip, contemplating how far we would take these shenanigans before whatever this mysterious power was tapped out or we ended up in some government facility or pharmaceutical lab. I'd like to spend time around the people I care about without them growing uncontrollable donkey dicks. Even if they didn't seem to care all that much. I caressed the curvature of my backside, cheeks stretched taut over a layer of fat padding powerful muscle. These days, I felt like I could lift anything with only moderate effort. It was actually making my workouts more difficult, I was having to get creative just to maintain progressive overload. Some of the more serious guys at the gym have been trying to get me into powerlifting, even amateur competitions, but I’m mildly afraid of where that might lead. And I don’t need even more attention.  

I felt a tremble in my glutes as the muscles seemingly flexed in disagreement. I'd been feeling these small twitches more often lately, deep in the muscle. I was worried I'd been overtraining. Maybe I should slow down on leg day, I thought, then immediately banished the idea. I guess, like Ty, I had started to grow accustomed to the spotlight on my dump truck whenever I was in public. I even got a kick out of the furtive glances and comical double takes. My hands were always resting on my round cheeks, letting me steal small squeezes here and there, especially when I was trying to think through something, and cared less and less who saw me feeling myself up. With this ass, who could blame me?

I glanced back at the mound of my oversized posterior making a permanent taking up space on the couch. I couldn’t help but wonder how far all this would go, reflecting on a recurring anxious daydream of a future in which the plush couch was gone entirely and I simply had beanbag size butt cheeks to relax into. I had convinced myself that we’d figure all this out long before things got that far. And if Ty was right about one thing, it’s that these changes were kind of fun. And it’s not like anything all that bad had happened. So far.

—

7…8…9…

I gritted my teeth as I tried for a tenth hip thrust. The plates clanged heavy against the ground as I failed, my butt falling back to the floor in resignation. I breathed a sigh of relief at being done with my last set, my glutes burning in satisfaction. Again that annoying twitch, stronger this time. 

At least these shorts held up, I thought,  leaning my head back. It was a quiet morning at the gym, meaning I could unapologetically load up the bar with several plates on each side, enough to really get a pump going. I needed to work up a sweat for Ty's little experiment later, which I had begrudged when they finally wore me down by promising to get a few pairs of super supportive, ultra stretchy gym shorts from the athletic line of the brand sponsoring them. All I had to do was go through my normal routine, hand them off in the locker room, and film the short scene with Ty before any unsuspecting person wandered through.

“Myron, right?” came a question from somewhere above and behind.

I swiveled my head around towards that voice, looking up to see someone silhouetted against the overhead lights. I couldn't quite make out their face, but I'd recognize that figure from a mile away.

“Winston?”

“Yeah, you remember,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Um, sorry if this is awkward, but I saw you from across the floor and I just had to know where you got those…”

“Shorts?” I interjected, a beaming smile appearing on my face. 

“Yeah! I've ripped through just about every pair I have, it's kind of becoming a problem. You know how it is.” We nodded in commiseration. “I could send you the link for these, if you want?” I said as I extracted myself from under the loaded bar and regained my footing, trying to casually pull the thin fabric to cover more of my thighs (to no avail). This current pair looked painted on and kept riding up my legs, making my ass look somehow even more bubbled, but they were solid. At least for the time being. “I’m pretty satisfied so far, and I think we’re probably the same size.”

“No, I think you might have me beat,” said Winston, eyeing me up with an appreciative smile. “Are you a trainer? I need to know your routine.”

I was taken aback. Winston looked like he had just stepped out of a fitness magazine. His stringer tank top hung from the peaks of his traps and flowed delectably over his torso, leaving his juicy pecs, biceps, and boulder shoulders exposed to the air, nipples peeking out playfully whenever he moved, the light catching the glisten of sweat in just the right way along his deep brown skin. His thin joggers ended at calf height, doing nothing to hide his tree trunk quads and of course, the wildly disproportionate globes of his glutes, stretching the otherwise loose sweats tight across the mathematically elegant curvature of muscle that made up his backside. His body was a work of art. And he wanted fitness advice from me?

I turned to the mirror. Maybe it was the way my shorts were riding up or maybe a trick of the light, but it did look like my perky bubble butt had surpassed his, evolving into an amazonian ass since we’d last met.

“Um, sure,” I stammered. “Yeah, let me give you my number, we could train together sometime. Miguel will get a kick out of this,” I added with a nervous chuckle, handing him my phone.

“Well he definitely has a type.” He winked as he put his info in and shot himself a text.

—

I left Winston with the comically overloaded barbell to get his leg workout going and headed to the locker room. Ty was standing in one of the aisles, leaning against a wall of lockers with arms crossed, looking unusually impatient.

“Time is of the essence,” they snapped. “We're about to hit the midday rush.”

“Oh am I holding up your little workday excursion?” I quipped, working my fingers under the waistband of my shorts. It was struggle enough to get them on, but with a serious glute pump, it was a lost cause. I meticulously peeled them down the top half of my ass cheeks until they simply wouldn't budge against the hemispheres of my posterior. Ty, seeing my frustration, intervened, locking their thumbs in and pushing down as the elastic approached catastrophic failure, eventually resorting to palming each cheek with one of their dinner plate sized hands.

“You sure you don't want to make some content of your own?” they asked, grunting with the effort. “You would do numbers.”

With my gym shorts finally off (with no shortage of curses, prayers, and geometric strategizing), I whipped my underwear towards Ty's face. They caught them in their nimble fingers, appearing to hold the reinforced bikini briefs with reverence. They closed their eyes and let their nose dance delicately above them like a sommelier of magic musk.

“Is it that serious?” I asked.

“You have no idea,” they answered. “But let's save all that for when the camera's rolling.” They whipped off their work shirt and track pants and positioned themself on the bench facing the camera in nothing but their underwear, their long legs splayed to either side. Their massive fabric encased member rested on the bench, thrust forward slightly as they leaned back, indulging in another strong whiff of my underwear.

I had long known Ty made fetish content, but I had never actually seen them in action. They had crafted a compelling character. Laid back stoner with gravelly, sultry undertones. They reel you in with a dopey demeanor and cute asides, their eyes dancing casually around the mise en scene as if there was something vaguely interesting just off screen, before cutting directly to the camera with startling intensity. I watched my recently used underwear tangle between their fingers as they brought them up to their face and inhaled deeply, their eyes fluttering with a full body shudder. This looked genuine. They bit their lip as they dug into the sweat soaked fabric, their face a contortion of pleasure and pain. With their shirt off you could see their core flexing in involuntary waves, becoming stronger and stronger as beads of sweat formed on their brow. Eventually they began to shudder across their entire form, lean muscles brought into stark relief as they curled forward and stood up to their full height, staring down at the camera as they blocked one of the overhead lights to create an accidental dramatic effect. This was getting serious. They rested their hands on the tops of the lockers for support as they became slightly off balance, a brief look of confusion as their dick lurched further, small tears appearing in the fabric of their overstressed pouch, shudders becoming rolling muscle contractions across their slim, lanky physique.

They struck an imposing figure with their full wingspan splayed across the tops of the lockers on either side. How had I forgotten how tall they’d grown? Their fingers curled against the metal, head drooping down more and more frequently to the commotion coming from their groin. Their breathing became heavier and more urgent as their dick pushed against its confines, already testing the limits of its pouch as it began to visibly engorge.

It was obvious that the pouch was comically, woefully huge, literally unbelievable if you hadn't already seen the beast visibly pulsing against the fabric as if in sync with their heartbeat, eyes and lips creased with discomfort.

“I think it's…happening…again,” they muttered, looking down at their overpacked crotch with a mask of worry. I couldn't tell how much of this was an act for the video and how much was real. I don't think I cared. The pouch was inflating with the pressure of Ty’s growth, stretching the fabric to the limit as it grew larger and larger, slowly revealing their pubes as the waistband was pulled downward. 

I was captivated, my heart pounding with the knowledge of what was happening in that pouch, turned on by the prospect of our all too real fantasy content production suddenly being discovered by some unsuspecting civilian. I thought of Miguel. Saw his self-conscious worry in the set of my friend's face, wondered if his own expanding member would reach a similar point that could only conservatively be described as colossal. My hole twitched at the thought.

“Augghh!” exclaimed Ty, bending over in pain and snapping me back to reality.

“You okay?” I asked. I knew this was risky.

“Wait. It's…almost,” they muttered through clenched teeth and panicked breaths.

Small tears began to appear as the pouch finally started to give way, growing and widening as their monster cock did the same. A slow tearing sound filled the space as the fabric separated bit by bit from the elastic waistband and the seams of their pouch split open just as the growth started to slow down and rest to a stop. With a final grunt, the now useless panties gave way and fell to tatters as Ty's semi hard cock ripped through, hanging down between their knees under its own weight, a few bits of fabric still hanging on.

“Was,” they breathed heavily, hands holding on to the lockers on either side. “Was that good?”

I was speechless. It was incredible. “I, uh–”

“I think so!” came a voice of encouragement out of the ether that Ty seemed to immediately recognize.

Their eyes widened in shock as they whipped around, revealing an unassuming gym goer previously hidden behind the expanse of their double wide back. Their newly enlarged schlong swung heavily through the air, bobbing back and forth until they stopped it firmly with one hand and tried to cover it up with the other, a gesture that was so comically futile that it just served to emphasize how undeniably massive their dick had become. Their long, lithe form was crouched in embarrassment, their naked body displaying a vulnerability that I don't know I'd ever seen from them before. 

“Kai!” they exclaimed, their voice an entire octave higher with what sounded like uncharacteristic nerves. “We've, um, got to stop meeting like this.”

—

“So who's this twink they have a crush on?”

Miguel was cuddled up against me later that evening, his hand caressing my ass cheek in lazy circles. I felt my glutes spasm again. Strong enough to resonate deep in my hole and cause my back to arch ever so slightly.

“That whole story and that's what you're focusing on?” I asked. “And I don't know if it's a crush so much as a series of awkward encounters.”

“Or a pattern of meet-cutes, as they say,” countered Miguel. “They're having a romcom moment, they should lean into it.” He smirked and gave my butt a playful swat.

“Okay but not even the underwear thing?” I asked, rolling on top of him to grab two handfuls of his juicy pecs. He's really been going hard lately, I thought. 

“I can’t blame them. You've got an enticing aroma.” Miguel pointedly squeezed the underside of my ass, sliding a finger towards the entrance of my waiting hole.

Another spasm. Strong enough for Miguel to feel the tremor through my glutes and pause briefly. He bit his lip in anticipation as I arched my back and began to rock against his groin, feeling the heat of his python stirring to life. He gasped as I rolled his nipples under my thumbs, his dick jumping in excitement. Has he always been this sensitive? I thought, but didn’t have time to reflect as he slid one finger, then two into my sensitive hole. I clamped down, biting my lip as my butt cheeks flexed with the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You always feel so good,” he said, sliding a third and fourth digit, beginning to prep me for what was to come.

I could discern what was to come extending between my legs, pushing them apart with its girth. I could practically feel his heartbeat through the pulses of the veins along his shaft. His face narrowed in concentration, his breath deepening as he got harder and harder, his baseball bat elongating inexorably behind me. I was overcome with lust as my lips fell hard onto his.

“I really can’t blame them,” Miguel repeated, swinging around to reposition me on all fours, ass up, back arched. His dick flailed widely under its own momentum, slapping the insides of my thighs with blunt force. It wasn’t yet fully hard, but was that still hard enough to bruise? Note to self, I mused. He smacked the globes of my ass with enough force to definitely leave a mark, setting them into uncontrollable jiggling motion.

“Fuck,” he whispered, grabbing handfuls of each cheek.

A steady ooze of precum wound its way down my back. These days, he had no shortage of homemade lube. He nestled his face between my shoulder blades, rubbing his beard against my sweaty back as he left urgent kisses on my skin. My hole twitched in anticipation. His breath became ragged as he slid his massive head between my cheeks. The sheer weight of it was more astounding every time.

But he continued. He left a gooey trail of precum as he caressed my shuddering hole and his cock thumped heavy onto the bed before springing back up to kiss my taint. I sighed in wanting, missing the weight of his monster cock even though I still felt the heat radiating from it. But then that beard was tickling my sensitive hole, and those urgent kisses turned into guttural moans as he began furiously eating me out. It was enough to cum right then and there.

“God you taste so good,” he moaned between my cheeks.

Miguel’s rimming prowess was such that it nearly eclipsed the power of his record breaking dick. My mind was swimming in ecstasy, unable to hold on to a coherent thought beyond whatever symphony he was writing through expert ministrations around my butthole. I was dimly aware of the muscle tremors running across my glues getting stronger and more frequent, a dance of minute twitches interspersed with full spasms, crescendoing into a full body shudder as my ab muscles contracted together and a prickly heat spread across my backside and down my legs. It felt familiar. I had the phantom sensation of deja vu but nowhere near the mental capacity to investigate.

“Does this feel good?” Miguel asked, coming up briefly for air.

“I, uh, yeah,” I eked out, clenching my teeth through the orgasmic heat radiating from my lower body. I felt another shiver, my ass and leg muscles contracting in tandem on a regular basis now. What’s happening? I thought. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this kind of full body horniness, a pulsar firing off gamma rays with every heartbeat.

“You look so fucking good.” Miguel caressed each ass cheek, then let his fingers trace along my hamstrings. “You’ve really been hittin’ legs, huh? Feels even better than I remember.” An inside joke that gave him no end of amusement. “You’re sure they’re not sneaking that GluteMax stuff in the gym's water supply?” I felt my right cheek jiggle as he gave it a firm slap.

“Had a great leg day,” I chuckled. “And I know a guy.”

Miguel repositioned, backing up awkwardly to extricate his dick from underneath my belly and position his massive head at the top of my ass crack. I looked back to see him entranced, one hand resting on my ass for stability and the other holding the base of his dick. The space needed between us just to situate his cockhead at my backdoor was comical, he may as well have been on the other side of the room.

“Can I?” he asked.

“Be my guest.” I steeled myself for what was to come.

I was well aware that I was quite possibly the only person on earth that could take his gargantuan prick and those first few inches of his mushroom head always felt unreal. My hole expanded past what I thought was humanly possible as he slowly rocked back and forth, easing himself in. Before long, my walls were stretched to the limit. When he was inside me, all I could even fathom was the pressure of his monster cock filling me up to the brim, sending me to ethereal heights. He began to work up a rhythm, but then I worked up my own. My glutes and legs weren’t the only parts of my lower body that had gained outsized strength. As I became lost in orgasmic bliss, I was pushing and pulling him in and out by sheer force of will, using him as little more than a human dildo.

“Fuck you’re strong,” he breathed, moaning into me as he relinquished control. Bottoming out was a pipe dream, but he had made it far enough in to grab my hips and leave little bite marks on the small of my back as he held on for dear life.

As I built toward orgasm, the spasms got stronger and longer. My legs were on fire, I felt like I could burst if I didn’t cum soon. I was bearing down on Miguel’s cock with enough force to destroy a normal human penis, eliciting a grunt of concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I…I just…” I lost the ability to formulate sentences as a mind melting orgasm crashed over me, a supernova centered around my hole, which still refused to relinquish its iron grip on Miguel’s cock. I shot rope after rope of cum against my chin, my chest, my stomach, before my hand finally steadied my dick. But the feeling of orgasmic release continued, my back arching deeper, knees sliding across the bed and feet losing purchase as suddenly they dangled in the air. My legs settled into a delicious stretch to relieve tension, contractions finally releasing with the last spurts of jizz.

“That was…that was amazing,” breathed Miguel. I could hear his feet stumble onto the floor as his prodigious cock slid slowly out of me, ending with a thud against the edge of the bed as he stood up to full height, hands still gripping my cheeks for support. “Wow,” he muttered, fingers splayed out against my butt. “You’re really good at that,” he said.

“Good at what?” I asked, shifting around to slide off the bed and find purchase on the hardwood.

“Whatever muscle you’ve been training to, um…” he trailed off, looking dumbfounded.

“To what?” I continued, standing up to full height and looking down into Miguel’s big cocoa eyes.

Looking down? I glanced at Miguel’s feet to verify that they were solid on the ground and worked my way up the rest of him. Not kneeling, not slouching. So how was I looking down? I was a tad bit taller than Miguel but we still basically saw eye to eye. But now I was gazing from inches above, down into his flabbergasted expression.

A wave of disorientation hit as I looked past him into the mirror, my head closer to the upper edge than I remember it ever being. I rested my hands on his shoulders. I was now visibly, undeniably taller than him. Miguel stepped aside, shocked into silence as he turned my body ninety degrees, my side profile coming into view in the reflection.

My upper body was the same. Soft paunch of my belly below pecs that were starting to take shape along with some definition coming in along my triceps and forearms. The look of someone who was still relatively new to working out but consistent with a rigorous program and appeared to be decently in shape. As my eyes wandered down the expanse of my lower half my heart fluttered in disbelief.

I was inexplicably higher from the ground because my legs were…bigger. It wasn’t an optical illusion or some sort of sex induced vertigo. I was literally taller. My quads, hamstrings, and calves had the same shape and muscularity, the same healthy layer of fat, but had become bigger and beefier versions of the legs I had had just a few minutes ago. They looked wildly disproportionate to everything above the waist. Yet that was the least of my concerns.

With some strategizing, I could’ve probably maneuvered my most forgiving pants onto my legs. I was certain I had some shorts on hand that were stretchy enough to at least cover my quads until I could figure out how to update this wardrobe. But there was nothing I owned that was going to last more than three minutes against the planetoids that had inflated behind me.

I thought back to my encounter with Winston at the gym. It was hard to imagine how I could’ve ever compared myself to Miguel’s dapper, bubble butted fling. Winston’s ass was a showstopper, but this? This was something else entirely. My ass had grown into two beach balls perched on top of my hamstrings, ballooning from my lower back around the small dimples on each side. It was a comically unrealistic, anatomically impossible morph that was very very real. I squeezed one cheek and felt a pulse of pleasure permeate the background noise of post-coital satisfaction, causing me to briefly lose my balance.

I stumbled backwards, still disoriented from my sudden growth spurt (Is this how Ty felt?), my monster booty smashing Miguel back onto the bed hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He sat up on his elbows, awestruck, his semi-hard python bobbing in the air in front of him.

“Oh shit,” I said, my face flushing with embarrassment. “I think I need to sit down.”

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” said Miguel. “I always got a seat for you.”

He leaned forward and placed his hands on the underside of each cheek, taking a second to watch them shake, then buried his head deep between them, fully smothered by the time he reached my hole.

The flood of pleasure tuned out any concern I had had about this latest development. I sighed, leaned back, and fell on top of him, his head and shoulders disappearing beneath my mammoth ass as his dick sprung to full attention dangerously close to my lips. I grabbed hold with both hands, each of which could barely wrap around half of his pole, and began lapping up the steady stream of pre from his mushroom head.

One more thing to deal with later, I reasoned as I began to fall back into a second wave of orgasmic bliss. This really was fun. So far.

[racheljoyscott]

Community Response

Five weeks after the shootings, the district worked with the Colorado Historical Society to take down the memorials and begin preserving them for future museum displays. The public grieving began almost immediately and increased as the days wore on. Clement Park, which sits adjacent to Columbine High School, was the center of the mourning.  It became the site of literally thousands of informal memorials, as people from around the world came to leave signs of remembrance and support for the students of Columbine.     Foothills Park and Recreation District, which manages the facility, estimates that more than 200,000 people traveled to the park before the memorials were dismantled in May. The visitors left stuffed animals, crosses, angels, candles, bouquets, photographs, ribbons and numerous other items.       A pick-up truck and a small compact car, discovered the next day parked in a Clement Park lot by Columbine students, became memorials to two of the slain students.  The vehicles were nearly unrecognizable as friends and strangers covered them with flowers and countless pictures, cards, letters and drawings in memory of the owners.      Mourners mingled with the media, which were set up at Clement Park to cover press conferences and response efforts at the school. The high volume of foot traffic and wet weather wreaked havoc on the park. The Foothills staff placed tents, plastic and more than 2,000 bales of straw around the memorials and grass to minimize the damage.     Items from the informal memorial were removed and put in storage in a vacant building at the Denver Federal Center. The district staff provided all of the logistics and volunteer coordination for the removal of the memorial items, a process that took three days to complete with over 300 volunteers.  Under the direction of the Colorado Historical Society the main focus for the memorial removal was to be sensitive to community needs and save as many items as possible, while recognizing the need to return the park to normal operations within a reasonable time frame. The inventory of items removed from the park included over 2,500 stuffed animals, 250 crosses, pictures, artwork, a new bicycle, and over 300 banners from all over the world.  In addition, thousands of flowers were recycled into potpourri or mulch for planting beds.  

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's an unusual property for work & play- basically you're buying a giant 40 foot diameter sphere in the desert of Yucca, Arizona. The dome is currently a ''UFO museum'' open to the public. BUT- A new project with storage, rv park, and an MX Professional Park for all ages will be developed right next to this ONE OF A KIND FACILITY! $1.375M. Terms are cash (?) or the owner will carry the loan. (So, in other words, it doesn't qualify for a bank loan.)

The property has a C-store and a fully operational restaurant called ''Rocket Burger.''

They don't specify if the things in the museum come with it.

I don't know, there doesn't seem to be much in here. A few displays, t-shirts for sale, souvenirs, and a couple arcade games.

A new exhibit under construction.

The Rocket Burger facility is nice. It has a full professional kitchen.

I don't know, it looks like a failing business. Maybe if and when they build the other facilities it will pick up, but right now it looks pretty dead.

The property measures 2.19 acres. There is some kind of large business and housing development nearby.

But, the rest is vastly desolate.

[usafphantom2]

SAC Crew Dog Alert Stories: An Introduction - Part 1

In 1989, I spent a lot of time trying to explain to my family what being on Alert was. The fire house analogy was the only one I could come up with. For seven days straights, a couple of times a month, we would move into the Alert Facility also known as the Shack and for the most part, sit around and do nothing. This story is how I remember it now, 30 years later.

The Shack was a building, in the fenced area at the end of the runway. It was built right next to the “Tree”, a aircraft parking location designed to make it very easy to takeoff in just a few minutes and from the air, it looks like a simple drawing of a tree.

We started our Alert tour on Wednesdays. So, we’d show up on Wednesday morning around Zero Seven Hundred (7:00 am for you civies) and park in the lot outside the fence and drag all the sh*t we would need for the week, clothes, books, razor, soap, shampoo, etc, plus all our professional gear, helmet bag, publications (a big heavy briefcase.)

At Loring Air Force Base (AFB) in Maine (ME), we had seven tankers on Alert. There are four crew positions, Aircraft Command, Copilot, Navigator and the Boom Operator, and this meant there were 26 other crew dogs doing the same thing as you. Some were married or had girlfriends who would drop them off and say goodbye, others were single, like me and we’d drive our cars there. One guy used to show up on his snow mobile occasionally, and another guy, who was a HAM Radio guy used to arrive in his RV with radio antennae’s sticking out of it all over the place (another funny story.)

The Shack was build was built partially underground. The bottom floor was where all the quarters were. There were three main hallways, with a couple of crossing hallways to connect them, and probably about 80 single rooms. Originally, the B-52s had also pulled Alert, they had six crew member per crew and maybe six or eight aircraft on Alert, but Loring had become a Conventional Bomber base during to one of the Start treaties, so the bombers were no longer there, thank the Lord.

The second floor in the Shack was above ground, and it was the main area. It had windows. The main entry door was at one end of the building, all other external doors were Exit only. There was a briefing room, a chow hall, various recreation rooms with TV’s and couches, and then an area for doing classified stuff that I could tell you about, but then I’d have to kill you. Classified briefing could be given in the main briefing room as well.

So, after you dragged all your sh*t, up the hill, showed your badge to get in the gate, then continue dragging your sh*t the rest of the way up the hill and into the main entry, show your badge again, get your room assignment, and drag your sh*t down to your room (seeing a theme here?) and sort it out, then it was time to get to work.

Time to find your crew and get to the briefing held at Zero Eight Hundred (8:00 am) sharp. And I do mean sharp. Time hacks, the process of synchronizing your watch with the master timekeeper (usually a Navigator) was a big thing, was a very important thing and seconds mattered.

The presenter of the briefing would brief us. Thinking about it, I can’t really remember what they talked about. Most of the time I was half asleep, I do remember that, but not on change over day. They’d discuss the weather, what crazy Ivan was doing, status of the airplanes, stuff like that and when they finished, it was time to head off to the aircraft.

The airplanes were kept at the Cage. Tankers weren’t allowed to use the Tree (even though it was empty), because… well… because we were tanker Toads. We didn’t drop bombs, so we weren’t really all that important (until they needed gas that is.) Our parking location was across the runway in the other fenced off parking area. In order to get in, you had to be Pre-Announced (another funny story) and the AC or Copilot would usually call over and let them know we were coming.

While someone was calling over, the Boom would get the keys to our Alert Truck. Each crew had their own truck, a Ford or Chevy Crew Cab 4 door pickup. There were also a few extras that could be borrowed if you were important enough, but mostly each crew had to share amongst themselves.

The Boom always drove the truck when the crew was together. It was tradition, and God help the Aircraft Commander who tried to buck it. Next stop, the Cage to preflight the aircraft.

(I missed a part here… so I’m adding it now) When going to airplane to pre-flight it, you also needed to bring all your professional sh*t, oh, I mean gear. It was a big bag, filled with cold weather gear and other stuff. Bigger than a duffle bag, and heavier too. It had to have all the correct stuff in it, or else. And from time to time, they would actually check it, so you couldn’t skimp. It had to be dragged out of the truck, up the crew entry chute (a ladder to get you to the flight deck) and then secured (tied down) to the floor in the back of the aircraft. Four bag, one for each crew member, and one more for the flying crew chief. Getting one of the themes here? We were always dragging our sh*t around all over the place.

The aircraft was always, and I mean ALWAYS, ready to takeoff. The entire pre-flight right up the step where they Start Engines was already accomplished, but there were a couple of exceptions. For instance, you could not leave the battery switch on because that would kill the batteries. Each and every morning, you had to go to the aircraft and make sure that everything was up to snuff. With Loring having a cold climate with lots of snow and very low temperatures, we had a few extra things that needed to be done. The engines had to be covered to keep snow and ice out of them, and the wings had to be kept clear too.

Although we had crew chiefs to take care of the airplane, the decent thing to do was to give them a hand if it was needed, operationally, the brass wanted everything ready and they didn’t care who, or how and why, just get it done. Being the only enlisted member on the crew, it was often the Boom who was elected (or just plain old ordered) to help them out, but only after we’d finished our part of the pre-flight.

In my early days, we were still flying on the KC-135 A model which did not have a usable Auxiliary Power Unit (APU) and used Injected Water to provide additional thrust for takeoff. Water freezes – and Loring is cold, so the water needs to be heated. That was my job, and the crew chiefs and, you guessed it, it sucked. An external power cart, known as a Hobart, needed to be plugged into the aircraft. The electrical power it provided enabled the use of the water heaters, which probably used enough energy to light up the entire base. There was a warning in the Dash One (the Bible that told us all about the KC-135) that said, “Do NOT turn on all the water heater switch at the same time.” There were five heaters and a switch for each one.

Rumors had it that once upon a time, a boom did exactly this, and the load caused the Hobart to flip over and die. (Hobarts are big, probably weighing 5,000 lbs) Not good, especially on Alert, where THE AIRPLANE MUST ALWAYS BE READY TO TAKEOFF!

Fortunately, water was not always needed. If the temperature got very low, the engines didn’t need it. But, unfortunately, the only way to get rid of the water was to dump it out of the bottom of the airplane and onto the ramp where it promptly froze into the shape of a very nice skating rink. Lovely.

The airplanes were fueled up to the maximum Emergency War Order (EWO) takeoff weight, which was right around 290,000 lbs. A bit more was added, allowing for the fuel burned off while taxi’ing. They were very heavy, and it was hard on the airplanes having them sit on the ramp with all this weight.

So, moving on, we’d get the preflight complete and head back to the Alert facility. There was ground training to be done and briefings to attend. First, studying your mission. You need to know where you were going, who you were refueling, and where you were landing (or bailing out as the case might be.) They weren’t kidding, you really needed to know. There was a test! And if you failed it, it was a disaster, I mean, they’d run you out town on the rails! You’d be the laughingstock of all your peers. (I really want to use the term “No Joke” but somebody has ruined that statement.)

So, you did your studying and after that it was usually lunchtime. Hmm, personally, I always thought the chow hall food was good. But then again, I think any food prepared by some else is good. I can’t stand cooking, and this worked out well when I was in the Air Force because someone else always did the cooking.

Lunch was also always a very social event. Long tables with crews sitting together inevitably lead to storytelling, and let me tell you, some of the guys were superb. They would have us in stitches for hours. Sometime the stories were sad, sometimes funny, but they were always entertaining, and they became the lore over time, being repeated and discussed over the years.

Somebody actually created a book, handwritten, with text and drawings, which included many of those stories that was kept down in the crew quarters. I wish to the Lord above; I had that book. It was gold. It was passed around, amongst the crew members to read during the huge amount of time they had when they were just doing nothing.

And I think at this point, lunch time, I’ll end Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2 which will start with:

A Nap

Photos:

KC-135 62-3580 – The Moose Is Loose (not sure it was an A or an R as this point)

View of the flight line in the summertime, around 1992-4

@tcamp202 via X

[tidalpunk]

From Architectural practice Bjark Ingels Group

Together with SCAPE Landscape Architecture DPC, we’re bringing Manresa Island into its next chapter 🌳🏭 Situated on the site of a decommissioned power plant in southeast Connecticut that extends into the Long Island Sound, the formerly industrial Manresa Island will be transformed into a 125-acre publicly accessible park, with the plant buildings at the heart of the site adapted into a dynamic community hub for learning, discovery, and exploration. Once home to the Manresa Institute, a retreat and recreation destination, the site was converted into a coal-fired power plant in the 1950s. Now, Manresa Island will become a revitalized ecological habitat with educational and recreational opportunities centered around water, unlocking 1.75 miles of waterfront access for the first time in 75 years. BIG will preserve and adapt the plant’s main structures: the boiler building, turbine hall, office building, and 350-ft-tall smokestack into a network of event spaces, research facilities, and areas for play. "Manresa Island is set to become a much-needed foothold for the public along the otherwise rather privatized Connecticut coastline. With our vision for the powerplant, we seek to rediscover and reanimate the majestic spaces hidden within the bones of the decommissioned piece of infrastructure. Boilers, silos, and turbine halls are postindustrial cathedrals awaiting exploration and reinterpretation. As an extension of SCAPE’s resettlement of the island for the enjoyment of human life among many other forms of life, we seek to extend that resettlement into the cavernous spaces within. By editing rather than adding, we will open up and clear out the existing spaces so that the once coal-powered plant can become the framework for the social and cultural life of Manresa's future—from energy infrastructure to social infrastructure." - Bjarke Ingels, Founder & Creative Director, BIG Read more about Manresa Island