#preseli hills

[wolveswolves]

Diary excerpts from my stay in a remote cottage in Wales | travelvlog

I started this new year housesitting in a cozy cottage somewhere in the middle of nowhere in the countryside of Pembrokeshire, Wales.

I've been wanting to experiment with different types of storytelling in my work. For this video, I used journal excerpts that I wrote during my stay in Wales, not knowing that I would later use those diary entries in a video.

I had such wonderful quiet, slow, magical, peaceful days here. I hope I can share some of it with you through this video.

>> Subscribe to my YouTube channel

#wales #travel vlog #travel videos #peaceful #slow living #my videos #pembrokeshire #uk #preseli hills #personal #mine #Youtube

[horsefriends]

Pony Grazing at Carn Menyn by Daniel Morris

#it is either #grey #or #palomino #welsh mountain pony #wales #Carn Menyn #Preseli Hills #Clynderwen #pembrokeshire #UK #pony #horse #untacked

[thechemistryset]

Preseli Transmitting Station, Pembrokeshire, 1964

#architecture #modernism #cymru #wales #preseli transmitting station #mast #sir benfro #pembrokeshire #preseli hills #crymych #1960s #60s

[travelella]

Preseli Hills, Pembrokeshire, Wales, United Kingdom

Daniel Morris

#Preseli Hills #Pembrokeshire #Wales #United Kingdom #UK #Europe #UKNature

[dailyoverview]

Pembrokeshire is a county in the south west of Wales. The county is home to Pembrokeshire Coast National Park, the only coastal national park of its kind in the United Kingdom, which includes a 186-mile walking trail, the Pembrokeshire Coast Path. In the north of the county are the Preseli Hills, a wide stretch of high moorland with many prehistoric sites and the probable source of the bluestones that were used in the construction of the inner circle of Stonehenge in England.

52.014500°, -5.087222°

Source imagery: Maxar

[mdr-writings]

"THE TITAN TAPES”

c/w: harsh language, ending spoilers

Act 1 : Intro

On the heavily grass hill, a small wooden house claimed it's spot. Two beings claimed the small cabin as their home. Now, the two are at parallel distance, one's life is lost, the other, slowly losing their own.

The man laid slumped against the cabin walls, eyes fallen shut, laying restlessly. Lines grew on the man's face as his life drained from his body.

“See you later Eren,” Mikasa whispers as she gently grasps his severed head in her hands. Drawing him in, the gap closes between the two lovers, lips pressing softly against each other.

Slowly the world fades into darkness.

“AND CUT! THAT’S A WRAP EVERYBODY”

Eren pushes Mikasa's hands off of his face to engulf her and close crew members and casts into a group hug. Claps and hoots boomed around the soundstage. The other cast and crew members bombard each other in hugs followed by howling cries.

This was the end ?

*Camera shifts into focus*

A grey-haired man appears with a obviously plastic moustache, holding a microphone. He shifts side to side in silence while staring at the camera.

"Go"

“Is it recording,” the man questions as his moustache begins to tilt crookedly from his upper lip.

“Yes, go”

The man shifts the faux facial hair to it's proper position, "I just wanna make sure I look prese-"

"GO!!"

The moustache quickly falls on the ground. His body movements sputter as he corrects his posture.

” HELLO LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I AM CONNIE SPRINGER AND WELCOME TO ATTACK ON TITAN FINAL SEASON-"

The camera quickly zooms in on the his face .

"Behind. the. scenesssss", he whispers, hissing into the camera then places a wet long kiss on the lens.

"Ew man look what you did to the damn camera," another man voiced in disgust behind the camera. A hand harshly swipes against the saliva-stained lens.

"Well if you wanted to come up with something for the intro, you should have volunteered"

"Well, I wouldn’t been able to live up to your title”

Connie smirks “As the handsome, dashing, glamourous, narrator of the film?”

A deep chuckle spouted behind the camera, “I was gonna say, the idiotic boots looking motherfucker of the film but whatever floats your boat”.

The grey-haired boy charges at the videographer with fists swinging in anger. The camera quickly turns around to face a light ash-brown haired man, now running away from the enraged narrator. Fear paints his face as Connie follows behind closely on his trail.

"JEAN, YOU SON OF BITCH"

The camera picked up the raspy winds crashing into the audio. His breath hitched as he quickens his pace, shouting the words directly at the camera

“WELCOME TO THE

Masterlist

#thetitantapes⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x you

[johnnyslittleanimalblog]

Pony, foal & Heather too by andrew sartain Via Flickr: A trip up Dinas (foothill to the Preseli Hills) where heather begins to show. Dinas itself was under mizzle cloud Hence the blue

#flickr

[diceriadelluntore]

Storia Di Musica #293 - The Waterboys, Fisherman's Blues, 1988

And I am the Water Boy\The real game’s not over here. Nel 1973 Lou Reed pubblica Berlin, album seminale, oscuro, profondissimo e nella canzone The Kids compare il verso che ho appena scritto. Sarà lo spirito scozzese, così abituato alla poetica e selvaggia bellezza di quella terra, ma come per la vicenda dei Deacon Blue quel verso diviene una scheggia di passione che colpisce lo spirito di un giovane ragazzo di Edimburgo, che si appassiona alla musica. La capitale scozzese è tutt’altra città rispetto a Glasgow e ha dei particolari piuttosto noti a noi, dato che è attraversata da un fiume (anzi sorge all'insenatura (firth) creata dall'estuario del fiume Forth) e si sviluppa su sette colli (Arthur’s Seat, Calton Hill, Castle Rock, Corstorphine Hill, BVarids Hill, Blackford Hill, Craiglockhart Hill). Mike Scott è un poeta e cantante di Edimburgo, che per un po’ di tempo vive a Ayr, sulla costa occidentale della Scozia. Nel 1977 fonda una fanzine, una rivista autoprodotta dedicata ai propri idoli musicali, e il titolo, Jungleland, porta subito a pensare a Springsteen, Dylan, l’astro nascente in quegli anni Patti Smith. Istrionico, fonda un gruppo, gli Another Pretty Face e una etichetta discografica, la Chicken Jazz, che subito viene acquistata dalla Virgin di Richard Branson, che vedrà in questo ragazzo del potenziale altissimo, e non sbaglierà, dato che Scott sarà personaggio dai complessi risvolti e una delle figure più interessanti del panorama musicale degli anni ’80. Dopo varie esperienze, tra cui delle serate con Lenny Kane a New York, torna in Inghilterra e decide che chiamerà il suo gruppo The Waterboys proprio in omaggio alla canzone di Lou Reed.

Eppure musicalmente ci sono delle profonde differenze rispetto a quel disco mitico: Scott è affascinato da una certa idea di folk con contaminazioni rock, già fatta da gruppi leggendari come i Fairport Convention di Richard Thompson negli anni ' 60 e ’70. Il primo nucleo dei The Waterboys era composto dal sassofonista Anthony Thistlethwaite, Norman Rodger al basso, Karl Wallinger alle tastiere, Preston Heyman alla batteria oltre a Scott che suona la chitarra, il mandolino e altri strumenti. Con questa formazione si presentano ad una famosa Peel Session nel 1983 alla BBC, dove suonano il loro primo successo, A Girl Called Johnny, brano tributo a Patti Smith che entrerà a far parte nel luglio dello stesso anno di The Waterboys: già c’è la miscela interessantissima di musica in bilico tra folk e rock, equidistante da Van Morrison e dal rock epico post new wave. Più rock è A Pagan Place, del 1984, famoso per un brano, Church Not Made With Hands. Scott è ancora alle prese con una sua definizione di musica, anzi di una “big music”, che si leghi sia alla tradizione, ma che abbia un tocco personale unico e distintivo. Si ritira ai Park Gates Studio di Hastings, celebre luogo di una battaglia, ed inizia a pensare alla sua visione della musica, che parte sempre dal misticismo caledonico di Van Morrison ma stavolta vira con decisione verse le tinte fosche dei Velvet Underground, fino alla musica minimale (Scott dichiarerà di essersi ispirato a Steve Reich). This Is The Sea (1985) seppur con brani registrati in presa diretta, è un sottile gioco di strumenti e voci sovrapposte, in una rielaborazione in chiave celtica del wall of sound spectoresco, con l’aggiunta di testi profondissimi, che affascinarono un’intera generazione di musicisti. Il risultato è splendido. Ma Scott è tipo lunatico e quando sembra sul punto di spiccare definitivamente il volo, si prende una nuova lunga pausa dove, spostandosi a Dublino, inizia a rielaborare i suoi capisaldi. Si tuffa nella musica popolare e tradizionale di Scozia e Irlanda, e con l’aiuto di nuovi innesti, centrale quello di Steve Wickham al violino, nel 1988 pubblica il capolavoro atteso, uno dei dischi più belli degli anni 80.

Fisherman’s Blues è un album folk, ma che dalla tradizione si muove con estrema eleganza verso sonorità fresche, nuove, in un connubio che solo la genialità di Scott poteva costruire. L’apertura con la title track già da sola è euforia e classe, come la lunga e ipnotica We Will Not Be Lovers, tutta giocata su un riff di violini (canzone iconica). Le onde dell’oceano, le colline verdi, i muretti di pietra a delimitare i pascoli, i colori selvaggi e accesi sono sempre lì, tra una strepitosa cover di Sweet Thing di Van Morrison (da Astral Week) e addirittura il folk politico di This Land Is Your Land di Woody Guthrie. La musica da pub irlandese esplode nella stupenda And A Bag On The Ear (che è l’equivalente irlandese per un bacio sulla guancia italiano) che parla di un amore nato sui banchi di scuola. E come non adorare il sottile andare di When Will We Be Married. Se non si è ancora sazi di colline verdi smeraldo, atmosfere con l’odore tostato di birra stout, dell’affumicato di un single malt torbato e di semi di lino da sgranocchiare, c’è il colpo di grazia: un duetto tra Scott e Tomás Mac Eoin, uno dei più famosi cantanti di Sean-nós, che è un particolare stile di canto gaelico irlandese, che recitano e cantano William Butler Yeats nella indimenticabile The Stolen Child. Scott registrò così tanto materiale che solo nel 2006 ripubblicò l’album con la sua intera idea, che comprendeva ancora cover di Dylan, traditional e altre piccole meraviglie (tipo Let Me Feel Holy Again o l’altrettanto strepitosa You In The Sky). Scott, chiamato da attese spasmodiche, ritornò con lo stesso stile musicale nel 1990 con Room To Roam, che nei piani del cantante, risponde appieno all'attuale percorso musicale, che in onore al traditional The Raggle Taggle Gypsy Scott definisce raggle taggle music. Poi, inaspettatamente, virò verso un suono quasi hard rock (Dream Harder, nome omen, del 1993). E dopo una virata così inaspettata, ecco che, nella sua migliore tradizione personale, scioglie il gruppo e si prende l’ennesima e stavolta davvero lunghissima pausa, un decennio fino al 2000 quando ritorna a scrivere insieme ad altri musicisti nuovi capitoli di una saga nata 20 anni prima. Un geniale lunatico.

#the waterboys #fisherman's blues #1988 #recensione

[amberthefantasy]

and the dragons danced?

chapter eight: AEGON II

Aegon pressed himself closer into Sunfyre, encouraging the dragon to fly down. He saw Jace on Vermax following close behind. They'd flown past the Kingswood by the time the sun had reached its apex, and had passed over Ashford and Horn Hill already. Soon the Hightower would be in view and they would be descending on Oldtown and Daeron.

Daeron... his littlest brother. Only a boy of six namedays when he'd been sent off to foster with their mother's family. Aegon barely remembered what his little brother looked like, he knew that out of his siblings Daeron had been the only one to inherit their grandmother Alyssa's blonde hair, he hadn't inherited her eyes though, having the same indigo eyes as their father, Rhaenyra and Aegon himself. 

He remembered the little dragon that Daeron had claimed though. His brother was the only one of Queen Alicent's children to have an egg hatch in the cradle. A bright cobalt blue she-dragon whom Daeron was been proud of, even at six. He'd scoured the library for days trying to find her a name, asking Aegon to read him words that he didn't understand. Aegon was eleven at the time, and had found it quite irritating to be saddled with his little brother, but he had helped all the same and eventually Daeron decided on the name Tessarion for the little hatchling. 

Three days later he was gone. Aegon hadn't seen him since, he wasn't at Lady Laena or Ser Laenor's funerals, or the tourney held in celebration for Aegon's sixteenth name day, or even his wedding to Helaena. Aegon remembered mother asking grandfather about why her son was not present, but everytime Otto managed to distract her and change the subject, Aegon was beginning to worry about why.

Aegon was lost in thought for a while, before he spotted the white stone tower in the distance. The Hightower itself. Vermax came closer to Sunfyre as they neared the city. "You land!" Jace's voice came over the wind, "I'll circle above, Sunfyre will show me if I need to land." They'd talked about the plan before they left, but Aegon was relieved to hear the ease in Jace's voice, even shouting over the wind he sounded confident, a helpful salve to Aegon's own worry.

Soon the two dragons were circling above the tower. Aegon took a breath, then directed Sunfyre to land on the top of the tower.

--

The guards kept back. Eyes darting from Sunfyre's golden jaw to Aegon as he dismounted his dragon. "Tell my cousin that Prince Aegon has come for his brother," he called to the guards. One turned and took off down the stairs. The other two stayed. Eyes still stuck on Sunfyre. "Do not be afraid," Aegon said, amused, "he will not harm you."

As they waited for his cousin and brother, Aegon distantly heard the sound of a dragon's cry. Tessarion sensing her kin perhaps?

It didn't take long for Lord Ormund and Prince Daeron to reach the top of the Hightower. His brother's eyes lit up when they fell on Aegon and a smile graced his lips. "My Prince," Lord Ormund spoke, his own eyes locked on Sunfyre.

"My lord cousin," Aegon responded.

"What brings you here? We received no raven telling of your coming," Ormund said, when his eyes finally turned to Aegon he could see the genuine confusion in them. Either Grandfather had not yet sent word to Oldtown of his fathers death or he had and that raven had included the detail of Aegon's escape.

"Has my grandfather sent you a raven yet?" He asked.

Ormund hesitated, "yes my Prince, I am sorry for your loss."

Aegon nodded, "then you know. I am here because my brother should be present for the funeral of our father," Ormund nodded at Aegon's words, "and the coronation of our sister."

That made Ormund blink at him, "your sister..." he repeated.

"Yes." Aegon confirmed, "my father's named heir." He raised a hand and waved Daeron forward. His brother hesitated for a moment, eyes darting between his brother and his cousin, confusion alight in them. "Come brother, our sister has requested your presence personally." Daeron's eyebrows pulled together, a sliver of fear visible in them. "It's okay," he reassured, "come on."

"I should fly on Tessarion right?" Daeron said, his voice no longer tinged with the shrillness of boyhood.

"Yes," Aegon agreed, "call her. I'll take flight on Sunfyre before she lands." He turned his eyes back to his cousin, "I don't wish to risk the structure of your tower with two dragons upon it." Lord Ormund muttered a thank you. His eyes no longer confused but simmering with barely concealed anger as he realised there was nothing he could do to keep the youngest prince away from his family. 

Daeron closed his eyes as Aegon turned to remount his dragon. The dragon's call came again, Sunfyre responded with his own and far above them Aegon heard Vermax's distant cry. Tessarion came into view a few moments later, her cobalt scales distinct against the pale sky. "Brother?" Aegon called as he flung himself into the saddle and prepared to take flight. Daeron turned his eyes from his dragon. "Stay close, you have less flying experience and I can't have you dying before we even get home." Daeron smirked and nodded.

Sunfyre took to the sky just as Tessarion reached them. The two dragons passed each other, Sunfyre's golden wings brushed Tessarion bronze chest and the smaller dragon snipped at him. Luckily Sunfyre didn't seem bothered by it and kept flying up. Aegon looked down as Tessarion landed and let out a sharp call. Ormund had grabbed Daeron by the arm it seemed, probably hissing some warning about a murderous sister. Daeron pulled away, stepping closer to his dragon. Tessarion lowered her head, and as Daeron placed a hand on it, Ormund stepped back and left. Aegon smirked to himself.

Daeron was in his saddle a moment later, taking flight to join Aegon. "Stay close," Aegon called.

Before Daeron could call a response there was a sharp cry as Vermax descended from the clouds to join his kin. Aegon rolled his eyes as he heard Jace's laugh on the wind. "Hello uncle!" Jace called to Daeron. Tessarion fluttered back. "Let's go home!" Jace yelled. He spurred Vermax on. Aegon laughed as he followed with Sunfyre, seeing Tessarion following right behind. The three dragons flew north in sync, in the direction of home.

--

Daeron followed Aegon's advice and stayed close the entire ride back. So close to Aegon and Sunfyre in fact that Tessarion's wings brushed against Sunfyre's every now and then. Aegon also noted that Daeron stayed a distance from Vermax. Jace seemed to understand that as well, keeping Vermax away from the other dragons too. The Hightowers had definitely filled Daeron's head with the lies they had filled Aegon's with. His hesitancy to go to their sister, Tessarion's snarl at Vermax and Daeron keeping his distance during the flight all combined to tell Aegon that. 

Aegon leant forward to push Sunfyre downwards, his golden claws grazing the top of the trees of the Kingswood. During the flight back Aegon and Jace hadn't tried to keep out of sight like they had on the flight there. Daeron was already on the way to Dragonstone and they'd be there by sundown, there was nothing the greens could do to stop them so there was no point in hiding themselves. Vermax alighted beside him for a moment and Aegon caught a look at Jace, his head was leaning back as he took in the fast wind around them. Tessarion fluttered to his other side, the smallest of the dragons among them it was much easier to see Daeron's hunched form on her back. The three dragons pushed on over the Kingwood and towards the Narrow Sea.

--

Dragonstone came into view just as the sun began to set over the horizon. The first thing Aegon saw was the red scales of Caraxes as the Blood Wyrm circled the sky, presumably on watch. When the three smaller dragons descended from the sky, Caraxes followed. 

They landed in the same place that Aegon and Jace had taken flight from. Rhaenyra, Luke, Baela and Rhaena were all waiting for them. Jace jumped off Vermax the moment they landed, running his hand over his dragon's neck for a moment, before he walked over to his family. Baela instantly pulled him into a hug, Luke and Rhaena joining a moment later. 

Aegon dismounted slowly, allowing them a moment of reunion, before he landed on the ground. "Thanks boy," Aegon muttered to Sunfyre, "you did well."

"Aegon!" Rhaenyra called. Aegon turned to see his sister opening her arms in invitation. He took it. He stepped forward and into Rhaenyra's embrace, her soft arms enclosing around him. "Welcome back," she said softly.

"Thank you," Aegon responded. He pulled back and turned slightly to find Daeron. His brother had dismounted as well, but had stayed standing beside his dragon. "Daeron!" Aegon called, waving his brother over. Daeron hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to Rhaenyra, before he walked over.

"Princess," Daeron bowed when he reached them.

"Oh, none of that," Rhaenyra waved him off, stepping forward to take Daeron's arms, "welcome to Dragonstone valonqar , I hope you enjoy your time here."

Daeron glanced at Aegon, who smiled encouragingly. "Thank you... mandia. "

Rhaenyra's answering smile was blinding. "Come," she said, turning to wave for her children, and Daemon, who had landed Caraxes and dismounted as well, to follow her. "We have much to discuss."

atdd masterlist / post masterlist

#fanfic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #daeron targaryen #daeron the daring

[persa-tra-i-miei-pensieri]

Tante scene dei film di Bud Spencer e Terence Hill sono state completamente improvvisate

La mucca sul tetto era messa lì solo come punto di riferimento per gli attori che si distraevano vista la location delle riprese continuamente sorvolata da aerei. Altro che fantascienza!

Bud le scazzottate le ha prese realmente solo una volta a causa della sua quasi cecità si è avvicinato troppo e lo stuntman gli ha tirato un cazzotto stendendolo. Bud a terra gli ha chiesto: «Ao ma con che m'hai colpito?»

Il cinema italiano di quel periodo seguiva quest'idea : fare tanto con nulla e soprattutto con la fantasia, non attraverso gli effetti speciali 🎬

#pensieri per la testa #persa tra i miei pensieri #fotografia #foto #scatto fotografico #dibattito #presentazione libro #bud spencer #terence hill #scazzottate #western #film #movie #cinema #cinema italiano #trinità movie #curiosità #libro #fagioli #i fagioli comunque... erano uno schifo #marcello vicini #interviste #risate #ridere #improvvisazione #fantasia #pugni #Pescara comix #pescara comix & games #comix

[oldearthminerals]

WEBSITE UPDATE! New preseli bluestone tumbled stones and wire wrapped pendants just added to the website today. More pendants in sterling and gold fill coming soon!

Preseli bluestone is a type of spotted dolerite that originates from the Preseli Hills in Pembrokeshire, Wales. It is known for its deep blue-gray color and is famous for being the main material used in the construction of Stonehenge, a prehistoric monument located in Wiltshire, England.

Stonehenge is a circular arrangement of large standing stones, some weighing up to 25 tons, that was built around 2500 BCE. It is believed to have served various ceremonial and astronomical purposes. The transport of the Preseli bluestones from Wales to the Stonehenge site, which is approximately 150 miles away, remains a fascinating mystery. The unique connection between Preseli bluestone and Stonehenge makes it a subject of great interest and speculation among archaeologists and historians.

#preselibluestone #stonehengerocks #stonehenge #wirewrappedjewelry

#Preseli bluestone #crystals #crystalhealing #minerals #mineralspecimens #mineralspecimen #stonehenge #witchy

[mybeingthere]

Flora McLachlan:

"I work in my print workshop in West Wales, on the edge of a wild moor, surrounded by lichened trees. I’m a Fellow of the Royal Society of Painter-Printmakers (RE). I am currently doing an MA in Fine Art at Aberystwyth School of Art.

I am inspired by the fairy tales I grew up reading, and by the motif of the quest in the medieval romance poetry I read during my English degree. I see it as a venturing outwards and also inwards, entering the wild unruly forest of trees and thorns, searching for a transforming glimpse of the white hart.

​My print workshop lies under the shadow of the Preseli hills. I print my own work on my large and small Rochat etching presses.

I also have two direct lithographic presses and a large collection of stones."

[tylergalpin-wrathchild]

.　　　　　　　　 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧　　‘ 　　

　　　　　　　 　Chapter XV. 　　　　　

　　　　Willow Hill, psychiatric hospital

∞

tic tac, tic tac, tic tac (…)

Il ticchettio dell’orologio, ritmico, sempre uguale, batteva nel confine tra lucidità e follia.

Non ne poteva più, non aveva mai odiato tanto qualcosa in vita sua, quanto quel suono infinito.

Un cocktail di farmaci era già in circolo nelle sue vene, perlopiù calmanti per tenere a bada il mostro e Tyler faticava a svegliarsi, continuava a lamentarsi in quel sonno-veglia senza fine, inciampando sempre negli stessi incubi atroci. Ma doveva svegliarsi, doveva farlo assolutamente.

Com’è che era finita così?

Tyler riviveva il momento in cui lo avevano catturato, ancora ed ancora, ne distorceva i dettagli ma il momento in cui veniva colpito al collo da un ago, restava sempre uguale. Era successo mentre si allontanava da Jericho, lungo la via maestra nei boschi, l’alba era spuntata da appena qualche ora… il corpo del ragazzo che aveva ucciso, nei panni della bestia, era stato trasportato lontano lungo il fiume e questo avrebbe dovuto dargli più tempo… ed invece erano già sulle sue tracce da un pezzo, probabilmente. Tyler non era riuscito nemmeno a varcare il confine che era stato nuovamente costretto in una camicia di forza e trasportato via in un blindato. Stavolta, però, era stata rincarata la dose di tranquillanti.

Stavolta, il suo mostro non li aveva salvati.

Willow Hill sorgeva solingo, circondato dal niente per diverse miglia. Quell’ospedale psichiatrico assomigliava a una fortezza inespugnabile… ed aveva ospitato sua madre prima di lui.

Nel silenzio sfaldato solo da quel ticchettio insopportabile, un vociare improvviso e abbastanza confuso, emerse nella coscienza sospesa di Tyler. Di cosa stavano parlando? Sebbene assuefatto dal torpore dei farmaci, Tyler tentò di recepire qualche informazione.

Era terribile la sensazione di non riuscire ad aprire gli occhi, nonostante egli cercasse disperatamente di farlo.

“Non scapperà come la madre”

Qualcosa dentro di lui si fermò, probabilmente furono i battiti del suo cuore a rallentare considerevolmente. Stava immaginando quella conversazione, oppure stava avvenendo davvero?

“Non era morta nell’incendio?”

“E tu credi che avrebbero permesso che si sapesse? Nessuno lascia Willow Hill”

Ogni fascio di nervi gli si irrigidì, il respiro divenne improvvisamente affannoso, troppo veloce… il cuore si dibatteva, ora, all’impazzata come se stesse per scoppiare da un momento all’altro.

“altro sedativo o gli verrà un infarto!”

Tyler avvertì come una scarica elettrica attraversargli tutto il corpo, ormai in piena crisi, anche le palpebre si levarono di scatto, rivelando le sclere arrossate e nessuna iride. La sua mente non fece in tempo ad elaborare meglio quelle informazioni che nuovo veleno prese a infuocargli le vene e nel giro di pochi istanti il corpo di Tyler trovò nuovamente la quiete.

I battiti del suo cuore furono chetati ed i suoi pensieri, persino quelli scivolarono in un nuovo e più profondo torpore.

E nuovamente chiuse i suoi occhi, sapendo che non era finita.

#Spotify

[ancientstuff]

I love this guy's thought process: "Why is there a villa out here in the middle of nowhere?"

#ancient Rome #Roman Britain #archaeology #Roman villa #Roman road #Roman Wales

[vintagebitchgifts]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: New Artisan Rare Preseli Bluestone 925 Sterling Silver Black White Necklace OOAK.

[eyssant]

Stonehenge: Unraveling the Mysteries of an Ancient Icon

Standing majestically on the windswept Salisbury Plain in Wiltshire, England, Stonehenge is a symbol of ancient ingenuity and enduring mystery. Its massive stones, arranged in a circular formation, have captivated the imagination of visitors for centuries, inviting speculation about its purpose and significance. Let's embark on a journey through the history, legends, and significance of this enigmatic monument.

Origins and Construction

Stonehenge's origins trace back over 4,500 years to the Neolithic period, with construction beginning around 3100 BC. Over the centuries, the monument evolved, culminating in the iconic stone circle completed around 2500 BC. The construction of Stonehenge was a monumental feat, involving the transportation of massive stones from distant quarries.

Stone Types:

Sarsens: These are the larger stones that form the outer circle and inner horseshoe at Stonehenge. Some of the sarsens weigh up to 25 tons and were sourced from Marlborough Downs, roughly 20 miles (32 km) away.

Bluestones: The smaller bluestones, which exhibit a bluish hue when wet or freshly cut, are believed to have been transported from the Preseli Hills in Wales, an astonishing distance of about 150 miles (240 km).

Construction Methods:

The methods used to transport and erect these massive stones remain a subject of fascination. Some theories suggest the use of sledges, rollers, and manpower, while others propose the use of wooden sledges on tracks lubricated with water and grease. Regardless of the exact methods, the construction of Stonehenge stands as a testament to the engineering prowess of its ancient builders.

Purpose and Theories

The purpose of Stonehenge continues to elude definitive explanation, leading to a plethora of theories and speculation. Here are some of the most prominent:

Astronomical Observatory: One theory posits that Stonehenge served as an astronomical observatory, aligned with celestial events such as solstices and equinoxes. The alignment of certain stones with the summer and winter solstices suggests a possible connection to tracking the movements of the sun.

Religious and Ceremonial Site: Another widely accepted theory suggests Stonehenge was a sacred site for religious or ceremonial purposes. The monument's alignment with celestial events may have been integral to rituals, ceremonies, and gatherings of ancient societies.

Healing and Spiritual Center: For some, Stonehenge holds spiritual significance and healing properties. Modern-day pagans and druids often gather at the site during significant astronomical events, connecting with ancient traditions and the natural world.

Legends and Folklore:  Stonehenge's mystique has also given rise to legends and folklore that add to its allure. According to one legend, Merlin the wizard brought the stones from Ireland and magically set them in place. Another tale suggests that Stonehenge was constructed by giants who danced in a circle until they turned to stone.

Cultural and Historical Importance

Stonehenge's significance extends far beyond its physical presence. It has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1986, recognizing its universal value to humanity. Here's why Stonehenge holds such cultural and historical importance:

Symbol of Human Ingenuity: Stonehenge stands as a symbol of human achievement and ingenuity, showcasing the capabilities of ancient civilizations. Its construction required sophisticated planning, organization, and engineering prowess.

Cultural Icon: Stonehenge has become an enduring cultural icon, representing Britain's ancient past. Its image is synonymous with the country, featured on countless postcards, stamps, and travel brochures.

Tourist Attraction and Visitor Experience:

Today, Stonehenge welcomes visitors from around the world, offering a chance to walk in the footsteps of ancient peoples. The visitor experience includes a state-of-the-art visitor center with exhibits that delve into Stonehenge's history, construction, and significance.

Preserving Stonehenge for future generations is a priority, given its age and vulnerability to natural elements and human impact. Efforts are ongoing to ensure the monument's stability and protect its surrounding landscape.

Planning Your Visit

If you're planning a visit to Stonehenge, here are some tips to make the most of your experience:

Tickets: It's advisable to book tickets in advance, especially during peak tourist seasons.

Guided Tours: Consider joining a guided tour led by experts who can provide insights into Stonehenge's history and significance.

Weather: Salisbury’s weather can be windy and exposed, so dress appropriately with layers and sturdy footwear.

Conclusion

Stonehenge stands as a timeless enigma, inviting us to ponder its mysteries and marvel at its ancient origins. Whether you're drawn by its astronomical alignments, its spiritual significance, or its cultural symbolism, a visit to Stonehenge is a journey through millennia of human history. As you stand amidst the towering stones, surrounded by the whispers of ancient legends, take a moment to appreciate the enduring legacy of this remarkable monument. Stonehenge is not merely a collection of stones; it is a gateway to the past, a symbol of human curiosity and ambition, and a testament to the enduring mysteries of our world.

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