Spo's photos

This is an illustration for our local Xmas carol. I noticed only afterwards that prompting the donkey was more than appropriate, since Jesus rode it to Jerusalem. Here he's apparently already gone, but will surely ride back right after the region is fully ruined.

According to Wiki, the slogan "Drill, baby, drill!" was first used at the 2008 Republican National Convention by former Maryland Lieutenant Governor Michael Steele, who was later elected Chairman of the Republican National Committee. D. Trump has used the phrase repeatedly during his 2024 presidential campaign. Mars, albeit small, would be a nice place for people who enjoy drilling. No-one would complain them spoiling the seas or the atmosphere since there's neither. Combination of two images created by Ideogram.ai.

She is Neva Masquerade, an eternal child and forever curious of anything new or unexpected. She always stares people in the eye – and hates being stared at. If at all possible, she always sleeps in the lap, and whatever is done in the kitchen, she participates by sitting on the shoulder.

Goldeneye family between ponds. The procession intrigued a young crow a lot – had perhaps never seen one – and everytime he walked close to inspect the proceedings, the parent goldeneye ushered her youngsters back into the water and then scowled at the crow. The crow finally seemed to grasp that the operation just wouldn't happen because of him, so he flew further back to scrutinize the scene. The mother immediately took her crew to the other side.

Together they are strong; they guide us, they protect us and they give shelter to our ways.

I remixed an old Bruno Mars song and added a video to it with 50 or so pictures of my dear wife. Some of them are already here in ipernity. I always thought the original arrangement of the song didn't do justice to the melody, so when I bumped into an accapella version of it in YouTube one day, I immediately downloaded it into my DAW. The same I–vi–IV–V chord progression applied to both the verse and the chorus, and the vocals appeared to be recorded to the click track, so it was easy to pile backing tracks behind it. I just reharmonized the chords slightly – and to be honest, changed the vocal melody at one point.

... People living on the coast of Gulf of Bothnia has this speciality that us southeners at the Gulf of Finland don't: the sun that sets into the sea. Shooting against the setting sun was especially challenging this time because of the huge contrast between the glittering sea and the gloomy skies. Luckily I always shoot raw, I wouldn't have succeeded at all without it, not even close. Funny that there was this constant flux of people to the tip of the sand bank even though everyone could clearly see there was absolutely nothing out there. Perhaps the adults hoped they'd hear Sirens singing there, and the kids would get a glimpse of the mighty Kraken.

Had the ancient shepherds had means to travel fast, they would have noticed that rainbow is not anchored to the ground but moves with the viewer. They would have understood that the arc is in the eye of the beholder, that each of us has their own, personal rainbow. Had that happened, would they ever have dared to tell a story, where rainbow is the sign of god's covenant with people? Oh modern man, shackled by science and knowledge!

I was strolling the street one night, minding my own business, when they came, hummed down like an old hoover and parked on a nearby hill. I cursed my almost dead battery, managed to grab a picture and walked cautiously closer. Soon enough a small door whirred open, and an old-looking chap limped to me. He said I looked wasted and offered me a buffet in their canteen. I have nothing against buffets, quite the contrary, all of us Finns absolutely love buffets, but I suspected it might be even more costly on this ship than on the cruise ship to Sweden. He assured me it would cost me nothing at all and kindly led me in. And what a "canteen" it was! There were these huge chandeliers hanging from the unvisible ceiling (they called them engines), and underneath them the cornucopia of diners were gathered for the feast, toiling and moiling and babbling with their plates, and so varying in sizes and colors they were that I sometimes had trouble telling them from the dish. With the help of my friend I managed to fill my tray, and we sat down to a cosy little table in the middle. When I eat, I usually read at the same time, but since their was nothing even vaguely readable at hand, between my mouthfuls I started to tell him about life on Earth. He looked interested, the others too, and the babble around me gradually quieted down, and when I got to the Berlin wall, most of them had stopped eating and just gazed at me. Even though I know I'm a pretty eloquent storyteller, the silence was slightly awkward first, but the main course was so delicious I soon forgot their staring. However, I was pretty sure that they started to get restless when I got to the other wall, the Trump one, and soon enough, my friend rose up, grabbed me by the arm and without a word led me to the hall. So hasty he was I barely had time to snatch a juicy-looking Schtumpfenstrüdel or whatever it was in my breast pocket. He guided me out, swiftly waved his hand at me, and the ship zoomed away before he had properly closed the door behind him. I've patrolled the streets every night since then but haven't seen a glimpse of them. I have no idea what alarmed them so, but my wife suspects that I – as usual – might have belched at the table. Without the photo she would never believe my story, she says.

One small step for mankind, one giant leap for a man.

This is why we don't have an eight number system even if it was more, well... handy.

Night falls and slight mist rises from the yet warm fields.

And they went, and they melted.