Uploads from Airborne.

Machaire Rabhartaigh

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Tue, 18 Jun 2013 14:45:07 -0700

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County Donegal - Ireland

The Mermaid

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Mon, 17 Jun 2013 02:35:37 -0700

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A mermaid found a swimming lad,
Picked him for her own,
Pressed her body to his body,
Laughed; and plunging down
Forgot in cruel happiness
That even lovers drown.

William Butler Yeats

La Belleza de una Ruina

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Sat, 15 Jun 2013 09:00:01 -0700

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Mizen Head, County Cork - Ireland

Haunts of Ancient Peace

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Thu, 13 Jun 2013 23:56:38 -0700

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Killarney National Park, Ireland

The Black Tower

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Wed, 12 Jun 2013 23:11:15 -0700

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SAY that the men of the old black tower,
Though they but feed as the goatherd feeds,
Their money spent, their wine gone sour,
Lack nothing that a soldier needs,
That all are oath-bound men:
Those banners come not in.

There in the tomb stand the dead upright,
But winds come up from the shore:
They shake when the winds roar,
Old bones upon the mountain shake.

Those banners come to bribe or threaten,
Or whisper that a man's a fool
Who, when his own right king's forgotten,
Cares what king sets up his rule.
If he died long ago
Why do yopu dread us so?

There in the tomb drops the faint moonlight,
But wind comes up from the shore:
They shake when the winds roar,
Old bones upon the mountain shake.

The tower's old cook that must climb and clamber
Catching small birds in the dew of the morn
When we hale men lie stretched in slumber
Swears that he hears the king's great horn.
But he's a lying hound:
Stand we on guard oath-bound!

There in the tomb the dark grows blacker,
But wind comes up from the shore:
They shake when the winds roar,
Old bones upon the mountain shake.

William Butler Yeats

She Moved Through The Fair

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Sun, 02 Jun 2013 01:00:32 -0700

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At Dunnottar Castle, Stonehaven - Scotland

Kylemore Abbey

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Thu, 30 May 2013 12:50:51 -0700

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Kylemore Abbey (Irish: Mainistir na Coille Móire) is a Benedictine monastery founded in 1920 on the grounds of Kylemore Castle, in Connemara, County Galway, Ireland. The abbey was founded for Benedictine Nuns who fled Belgium in World War I.

Kylemore Castle was built as a private home for the family of Mitchell Henry, a wealthy doctor from London, whose family was in textile manufacturing from Manchester, England. He moved to Ireland, when he and his wife, Margaret, purchased the land around the Abbey and became a politician, and was also an MP for County Galway from 1871 to 1885. The castle was designed by James Franklin Fuller and Ussher Roberts. Construction first began in 1867, and took one hundred men four years to complete. The castle covered approximately 3,700 m2 with over 70 rooms and the principal wall was two to three feet thick. The facade measured 43 m in length and is made of granite brought from Dalkey by sea to Letterfrack and limestone from Ballinasloe. There were 33 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, 4 sitting rooms, ballroom, billiard room, library, study, school room, smoking room, gun room and various offices and domestic staff residences for the butler, cook, housekeeper and other servants. Several other building including a Gothic cathedral and family mausoleum containing the bodies of Margaret Henry, Mitchell Henry and a great grand nephew.

The Abbey remained in Henry's estate after he returned to England, and the castle was sold to the Duke and Duchess of Manchester in 1909, they resided there several years, before being forced to sell the house and grounds due to gambling debts. In 1920 the Irish Benedictine Nuns purchased the Abbey castle and lands after they were forced to flee Ypres, Belgium during World War I. Previously the nuns, who had been based in Ypres for several hundred years, had been bombed out of their Abbey during World War I. The nuns continued to offer education to Catholic girls, and opened an international boarding school and established a day school for local girls. They were forced to close the school in June 2010.

The Estate includes large walled Victorian Gardens, which have been open since the 70s, to public tours and 'nature' walks. The Benedictine community have restored the Abbey's gardens and Cathedral with donations and local artisans, in order to be a self-sustaining estate.

Emerald Isle

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Sun, 26 May 2013 14:59:39 -0700

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Connemara - Ireland

Los Colonos

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Sat, 25 May 2013 00:00:28 -0700

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Los hombres de la Tierra llegaron a Marte.

Llegaron porque tenían miedo o porque no lo tenían, porque eran felices o desdichados, porque se sentían como los Peregrinos, o porque no se sentían como los Peregrinos. Cada uno de ellos tenía una razón diferente. Abandonaban mujeres odiosas, trabajos odiosos o ciudades odiosas; venían para encontrar algo, dejar algo o conseguir algo; para desenterrar algo, enterrar algo o alejarse de algo.

Venían con sueños ridículos, con sueños nobles o sin sueños. El dedo del gobierno señalaba desde letreros a cuatro colores, en innumerables ciudades: HAY TRABAJO PARA USTED EN EL CIELO. ¡VISITE MARTE! Y los hombres se lanzaban al espacio. Al principio sólo unos pocos, unas docenas, porque casi todos se sentían enfermos aun antes que el cohete dejara la Tierra. Y a esta enfermedad la llamaban la soledad, porque cuando uno ve que su casa se reduce hasta tener el tamaño de un puño, de una nuez, de una cabeza de alfiler, y luego desaparece detrás de una estela de fuego, uno siente que nunca ha nacido, que no hay ciudades, que uno no está en ninguna parte, y sólo hay espacio alrededor, sin nada familiar, sólo otros hombres extraños. Y cuando los estados de Illinois, lowa, Missouri o Montana desaparecen en un mar de nubes, y más aún, cuando los Estados Unidos son sólo una isla envuelta en nieblas y todo el planeta parece una pelota embarrada lanzada a lo lejos, entonces uno se siente verdaderamene solo, errando por las llanuras del espacio, en busca de un mundo que es imposible imaginar.

No era raro, por lo tanto, que los primeros hombres fueran pocos. Crecieron y crecieron en número hasta superar a los hombres que ya se encontraban en Marte. Los números eran alentadores. Pero los primeros solitarios no tuvieron ese consuelo.

Crónicas marcianas. Ray Bradbury.

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The men of Earth came to Mars.

They came because they were afraid or unafraid, because they were happy or unhappy, because they felt like Pilgrims or did not feel like Pilgrims. There was a reason for each man. They were leaving bad wives or bad jobs or bad towns; they were coming to find something or leave something or get something, to dig up something or bury something or leave something alone. They were coming with small dreams or large dreams or none at all. But a government finger pointed from four-color posters in many towns: THERE'S WORK FOR YOU IN THE SKY: SEE MARS! and the men shuffled forward, only a few at first, a doublescore, for most men felt the great illness in them even before the rocket fired into space. And this disease was called The Loneliness, because when you saw your home town dwindle the size of your fist and then lemon-size and then pin-size and vanish in the fire-wake, you felt you had never been born, there was no town, you were nowhere, with space all around, nothing familiar,
only other strange men. And when the state of Illinois, Iowa, Missouri, or Montana vanished into cloud seas, and, doubly, when the United States shrank to a misted island and the entire planet Earth became a muddy baseball tossed away, then you were alone, wandering in the meadows of space, on your way to a place you couldn't imagine.

So it was not unusual that the first men were few. The number grew steadily in proportion to the census of Earth Men already
on Mars. There was comfort in numbers. But the first Lonely Ones had to stand by themselves.

The Martian Chronicles. Ray Bradbury.

Velha Infancia

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Thu, 23 May 2013 13:00:17 -0700

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What does Summer smell like?

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Tue, 21 May 2013 03:35:46 -0700

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Long Ago and Far Away

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Tue, 14 May 2013 17:15:19 -0700

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O O

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Tue, 14 May 2013 17:14:59 -0700

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Kamadeva

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Tue, 14 May 2013 16:04:11 -0700

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Solitude Ways

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Tue, 14 May 2013 16:00:09 -0700

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When Spirits Rise

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Thu, 09 May 2013 06:05:39 -0700

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Inishmore - Aran Islands.

The Foggy Dew

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Tue, 07 May 2013 09:10:34 -0700

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Villademoros

Arriving Home

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Mon, 06 May 2013 03:40:47 -0700

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Highlands - Scotland

Lone

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Sun, 05 May 2013 07:18:41 -0700

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Loch Assynt, Sutherland - North West of Scotland

Glenveagh

nobody@flickr.com (Airborne.) — Sat, 04 May 2013 09:35:32 -0700

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Glenveagh National Park, Donegal - Ireland