Blinds For Glass Door. Silk Chandelier Shades. Plans For Plantation Shutters
Blinds For Glass Door
- A visual representation of an embedded object which displays the embedded object (e.g. a sketch or graph).
- Puerta acristalada (f)
- (Glass Doors) doors attached to a fireplace to close off the opening of the hearth from the home to prevent heat from escaping up the chimney and prevent cold air from entering the home when the fireplace is not being used.
- Confuse or overawe someone with something difficult to understand
- A window blind is a type of window covering which is made with slats of fabric, wood, plastic or metal that adjust by rotating from an open position to a closed position by allowing slats to overlap. A roller blind does not have slats but comprises a single piece of material.
- Cause (someone) to be unable to see, permanently or temporarily
- The blinds are forced bets posted by players to the left of the dealer button in flop-style poker games. The number of blinds is usually two, but can be one or three.
- window coverings, especially vertical blinds, wood blinds, roller blinds, pleated blinds
- Deprive (someone) of understanding, judgment, or perception
one seven three. Watched
I skinned my knee and now it stings. It is red and raw and peeling. That probably is not a very ladylike thing to say. It is probably not a very ladylike thing to do, skin your knee. Or any other part of your body. It burns, now, kind of like the sun if you stay out for too long, and your skin bubbles up. But different. Like when oil pops out of the pan and onto your skin. Instantaneous pain that is gone as soon as you notice it. But it burns until you hold it under cold water. It burns like that, but different. I’m sitting here looking at my knee and I don’t know why. It makes me human, this missing layer of skin. It’s round, but wobbly. How can a shape be wobbly? Like a painting done by shaky hands trying to impress their parents, trying to earn their praise and love. “Look what they’ve done! Isn’t it wonderful!” Wobbly like the crack in your voice when you lie. My mom yells up at me do I want food. I think for a minute. Am I hungry? I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore. The difference between hunger and pain is indecipherable. My lungs feel so heavy, like they’ve been flooded. Who would do that? Why would anyone flood my lungs? Do people hate me? I don’t understand. If they aren’t flooded why is it so hard to breathe. Blinking isn’t natural anymore, I feel it. Every time. My eyes close, they pause, they open. Usually they don’t reach the bottom lid, they just block my vision momentarily. Why is breathing so difficult? Why is blinking so conscious? I thought this stuff was supposed to be unfelt, unnoticed, unacknowledged. I thought I answered my mom but she’s standing in my doorway, watching me. Sometimes I forget to answer out loud. People will ask me something or confide in me expecting a response, and I deliver in my head. As if I think I can share my reaction telepathically. But that isn’t even it. It’s not a thought. I just don’t answer. I think I do. I feel the words in my mouth, my eyes blink and head turn in whatever direction I need to project my voice and I do. I feel it in my lungs. Except it isn’t really happening. I’m not really answering. I’m not really talking. The situation isn’t really unfolding. It’s just in my head. And it’s become a problem for people. My mom is starting to think something is wrong with me. “I’m sorry. I thought I answered. No, I’m good thanks.” Oh, the look on her face. Such a good mother, such concern. But Mom I’m fine. I say this in my head, not out loud. Because she hasn’t said anything, so why would I tell her I’m fine? It’s okay to keep this in my head. “I’m worried.” Obviously or you wouldn’t be standing in my door. “Don’t be.” I smile. It’s so fake, I feel my eyes close again, the half thing. Where they don’t fully shut, like they’re afraid if they don’t watch for a minute something horrible might happen. But no, it’s not even that. I’m just too tired. I’m exhausted, all the time. So tired that my eyelids feel like bricks being smashed up against one another if I try to close them. “I’m fine.” She doesn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, Mom. I wish I was better. I wish you didn’t have to worry about me or ask or think you needed to check up on me. I can feed myself, it’s okay. She blinks her own eyes halfway but not because she feels every nerve in her body, but because she is holding back a tear. I’m sorry, Mom. I really am. Just go away, you don’t need to see me or be worried. I’m fine. I keep it in my head because I don’t want you to worry I’m fine I’m fine really it’s okay just go I don’t want food no thank you though I really do appreciate it. I promise I’m fine. She walks down the steps and everything is cracking. The stairs are so old they sag in the middle. Years of wear and tear. Years of running, from each other, from outsiders, from ourselves, from unknowns. It’s a scary place in this house. The hallways hold monsters who will jump out at you if you aren’t prepared. They always know. I’m the one they usually get. I don’t know why. Maybe everyone else is just better at not seeing. They seem to be fine with not seeing. I don’t know how they do it. I want to not see. I want to unsee. It’s too late. Let me unsee the things I’ve seen. Let me unhear the words that tied the noose around my neck. I’m just going to lay down for a while. My back is hurting. My lips are cracked and bleeding but I don’t know how that can be because I haven’t bitten them today. They just are bleeding and it hurts but not really because I don’t feel it. No actually I do. Because I feel everything. The pillow is so light and fluffy and sweet that I feel it too. Oh, my head is hurting. Why am I laying here? Why is the light shining through the blinds like that? The lines it makes are heartbreaking. No one else thinks this. No one else sees this. I’m going to sit up now. Oh. The clock says I laid there for an hour. How did that happen? It was just a minute because the softness became uncomfortable. How is that possible? That it was uncomfortable and that an hour passed? What is
ISO 400 | f/11 | 1/60 Sec. I found this beautiful red door while on a short hiking in Fort Bragg, CA with my wife near the coastal waters. Cliffs overhang the landscape and the place is of full of danger signs of falling off of the cliffs. All in all, it was a nice trip and a lot of fun. "After clearing 9 metres of the descending passage, in about the middle of the afternoon, we came upon a second sealed doorway, which was almost the exact replica of the first." - Howard Carter (Archaeologist and Egyptologist) V stands, the bodies of Creedy’s men scattered around him. Creedy raises his gun as V begins walking toward him CREEDY: “Die! Die! Die!” V keeps coming every step another bullet closer to Creedy’s last. Again the hammer clicks empty. CREEDY: “Why won’t you die?” V: “Beneath this mask there is more than flesh.” Creedy backs into the wall as V looms over him. V: “Beneath this mask there is an idea, Mr. Creedy.” The mask smiles. V: “And ideas are bullet-proof.” - Shooting Script (V for Vendetta Film) MORPHEUS: “The Matrix is everywhere, it’s all around us, here even in this room. You can see it out your window or on your television. You feel it when you go to work, or go to church or pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.” NEO: “What truth?” MORPHEUS: “That you are a slave, Neo. Like everyone else, you were born into bondage, kept inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch. A prison for your mind." The leather creaks as he leans back. MORPHEUS: “Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.” Morpheus opens his hands. In the right is a red pill. In the left, a blue pill. MORPHEUS: "This is your last chance. After this, there is no going back. You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and you believe whatever you want to believe.” The pills in his open hands are reflected in the glasses. MORPHEUS: “You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.” Neo feels the smooth skin of the capsules, the moisture growing in his palms. MORPHEUS: “Remember that all I am offering is the truth. Nothing more.” Neo opens his mouth and swallows the red pill. The Cheshire smile returns. MORPHEUS: “Follow me.” - Shooting Script (The Matrix Film) “No pessimist ever discovered the secret of the stars, or sailed to an uncharted land, or opened a new doorway for the human spirit.” - Helen Keller (American Author) Equipment Specs: - FinePixS2Pro - Nikon 24-85mm f/2.8-4D IF - Polarizer Post Processing: - HDR - Saturation - Curve - Sharpened