Month: April 2016

Sepia Sunday

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Art Expedition

Sepia Sunday

Since I started my blog here on WordPress I´ve discovered so many talented photographers whose work I love and give me daily inspiration. To this group especially belong Inese (Making Memories), Chris (Milford Street), Su (Zimmerbitch) and Emilio (Photos by Emilio

A dear friend of mine gave me her camera as a present because she wanted to buy a new and better one. That´s why I´ve been running around Berlin the last days, holding my “new” camera at the ready and hunted for motives I like.

Always being a huge fan of early photography I couldn´t resist and choose the sepia option;)

This shot was taken near where I live in Berlin.

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Onward by Blair Gaulton

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Onward May our hearts be filled; with wonder love ‘n’ thrills. May we dare to take steps to realize our dreams ‘n’ be fulfilled. May we go on; never stop when things go wron…

Source: Onward by Blair Gaulton

Humor Post

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Whenever you find yourself too busy to write a humor post for your blog fans, just take a few minutes to do your cultural ” Banda Dance” for them.






See? Now join me. I bet you’ll lose a few pounds.



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Both of my cats Miko and Moina were placed to sleep today. I was forced to learn the meaning of the word euthanasia, and I will forever hate this word with a passion.


No, I’m not a happy camper. In fact, I’m so hurt, I feel like someone pulled off my guts while my head is constantly spinning. Although I keep convincing myself it’s merely a dream, however, whenever reality hits, I feel as if my cats were ripped apart from my chest, after being sliced and diced and carefully marinated with lime and hot pepper; I’m standing there watching their mutilated body, over and over.

Yes. My beautiful cats are now DEAD.

Sadly to say, I’m not the only one mourning for them. Two of my daughters were very close to them as well. In fact, they spoiled them and taught them tricks, even conversed with them as if…

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Speechless Phase II

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Old lady

I took the liberty to help an elderly woman cross the street. She thanked me of course. But, just when I was ready to walk away I heard, “Can you see the church to my left?”

After a quick glimpse, I thought to myself, “If indeed there is a church  nearby, I’m certain that only the letter “H” remains from the word church.”

“Are you sure you’re heading the right direction?” I asked the old lady.

“Of course I’m! Don’t think because I’m blind, I can’t tell where am going?  I’m eighty-three years old, I still have all my brain cells left. Look carefully to my left again, the church should be right there.”

Thankfully, I didn’t’ have to look any further. An older frail looking caucasian man recognized my torn in the flesh.

“Church is over Larna, where you think you going?”

“Maybe for you, but ain’t over for me.” Then, as she turned her head toward me, she said, “Where are you. young lady?”

Like a lamb dragged to the slaughter, I answered back.

“Still here Larna.”

“Oh, you here!” She replied. As if we had formed an oral contract earlier.

As we walked toward the back alley, she remained quiet. So, for a cup of humor, I though I would encourage to talk.

“So, your name is Larna; beautiful name!”

 “I was born  LORNA, I’m not about to change my name NOW.”

“Oh! My apology.” Thank God, before she could utter another word, two young girls rushed  toward her with open arms.

“Larna, you made it! Church is over but Mamma is still serving pastries.”

“Aren’t we glad to see you Larna; saved you  your favorite cookies, come and sit down here.”

“And some coffee too?”

“Of course!”

“Don’t forget the sugar.”

“Yes. Lots of sugar.” Afterward, the young woman pleasantly smiled, as she turned her attention to me for a cordial invitation.

But, something more interesting caught my attention. Norma was not eating. Instead, she was desperately rampaging her purse.

“Are you ok Norma?” The pastor asked her.

She swung her head around as if she had suddenly received the gift of sight. Then she said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I lost my pack of cigarette earlier, now I realized I left my marijuana bag at home. “You don’t happen to keep some in the church do you? ”

The pastor’s  face including myself?





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In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Mystery Wrapped in an Enigma.”


The word “interview” does not rhymes well with my senses. In fact, I get an allergic reaction, whenever I’m forced to travel through that intersection. Although I do understand this is a necessary process, but I can’t help it. I don’t know how to place my best foot forward. I always feel like saying: “Hey! You want me? Here I am! I’m a workaholic, and I have no time for game, or hypocrisy.”

Honestly, I have a phobia when it comes to talking to strangers. Yes, strangers tend to trigger my panic mode, no matter how friendly they appear to be. Therefore, sitting in a room filled with bullies, ready to intersect me, is not my ideal gourmet food.

The word interview itself makes me feel as if I’m willfully consenting for the oposing…

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My silence is temporary, so I’ll be BACK.

I’ve been very busy. If you don’t believe me check it out for yourself. Look at this bed of flowers I’ve been planting  just for you!!!

Ok. So my nose is growing longer, and Pinocchio is thrilled. Yes, misery likes company. But, not for long; because I must go back to my sewing.

Yes, I did say “Sewing” and, I will share my French lace gown with you whenever I complete it.

Shh! Silence please!!! Im sewing it by hand so I need to concentrate.

Meanwhilei, enjoy the view.