water under the bridge | a(nother) natori shuuichi/matoba seiji fanmix

featuring cover art by the incredibly talented and wonderful @izumisays

tracklist + lyrics + notes below:

i.

HEALTH x PERTURBATOR - EXCESS [i didn't do it / i didn't do it for love / what did i do it for]

FOREIGN AIR - IN THE SHADOWS [i know you could hear me / but you pretend you don't have a heart]

OWEN PALLETT - PEACH, PLUM, PEAR (JOANNA NEWSOM COVER) [now its done / watch it go / you've changed some / water runs from the snow]

TAMER - BEAUTIFUL CRIME [when the sun sets we're both the same / half in the shadows / half burned in flames]

PARIS JACKSON - SCORPIO RISING [you're my stained gauze / you are all i've got]

BRETON - PARTHIAN SHOT [you can cover up what you want / cover up what you are]

ii.

DOL IKARA - STONE TOWERS [what am i here for / i've gone astray / what are you here for / now i'm your decay]

TRILLS - SPEAK LOUD [you and me after / you and me before / time splits in two / on both sides of the door]

CHARLOTTE MARTIN - CUT THE CORD [we're too weak too strong / to cut the cord]

ADELE - WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE [if i'm not the one for you / why have we been through what we have been through]

LUDOVICO EUNAUDI - LOW MIST VAR 2. DAY 1 [instrumental]

DAUGHTER - SWIM BACK [i'd just need to erase distance / find a hole in the ocean / swim backwards]

iii.

TEGAN AND SARA - BACK IN YOUR HEAD (DEMO) [i'm not unfaithful but i'll stray / when i get a little scared]

AGNES OBEL - FAMILIAR [can you walk on the water if i / you and i / or keep your eyes on the road and live the familiar / without you and i]

MARIKA HACKMAN - REALITI (GRIMES COVER) [when we were young we used to live so close to it / and we were scared and we were beautiful]

MACHINEHEART - LOST TIME [i'm thinking about the last time / i wanna try again / i'm pushing on the rewind where it all began]

PVRIS - OLD WOUNDS [they say don't open old wounds but i want to / i think i could love you till the day that you die]

FOALS - MILK & BLACK SPIDERS [and i know you're still with me / you're my compass and my sea]

notes:

endless amounts of love and gratitude for dearest izumisays who put the cherry on top of my scorpio season with the offer to create a cover for yet another one of my little fanmixes! i now desperately need to hang this in the louvre and my wall because i cannot stop gazing at it in awe and adoration and feel the need to make everyone else do the same 🥰

we had talked about the vibe for this being inspired and informed by the transition from the sharp edges of their earlier dynamic to the recent (incredibly! surreal!) gentler pause in divorce coexistence that manga canon has been gifting us. as a result, it wound up much mellower and maybe even cautiously hopeful(?) in parts compared to those before (ie. the overall aesthetic contrast/narrative progression from here still hecks me up in the best way)

not sure how much tumblr may be messing with the resolution so full-view probably best and pls also appreciate seiji's tiny proposal loquat[TM] in the last pic! :D

A very happy WBW to you! What is your favorite aspect of each region's design in your story? What part of it can you not wait to share with others because you're proud you came up with it?

Happy Worldbuilding Wednesday back to you too!!!

These questions are very interesting and complicated. I will try to answer to the best of my abilities, and talk a bit about each of the main regions of my WIP! Man am I excited about this, let's go:

What is your favorite aspect of each region's design in your story?

ADRELLIOS - The Golden City:

Imagining a pristine city, gold plated in every sense of the word, where wondrous advancements in the name of comfort have been made. The mystery of the richest city the world has ever known, glistens in the sun amidst its colorful webs of luxury, secrecy, lies, and enchantment. A paradise one could get lost in forever.

The Masquerades. Nights shock full of mystery, luxury, and excitement, in intricate marble ballrooms with only the rarest jewels as decorations, and everyone - including yourself - is wearing different and unique masks, tailored to the best possible quality for this very occasion. Each year the Masquerades host a different theme, and there is always a surprise at the end if you're willing or able to keep your secrets.

The silk markets and the Golden Desert. A city surrounded by the mysterious sands of an age-old desert, which glows like gold when the sunlight hits it just the right way at just the right hour of the day. A trade route of expert merchants that dare cross the unyielding desert to reach the city of dreams.

Egyptian and Mediterranean influences. Mighty buildings of white stone with colorful inscriptions and sprawling cities below.

MIDTAREN - The Forest Haven:

It is a forest kingdom, built to be accommodated amidst the ancient trees - which are hundreds of feet tall by now. Imagine the beauty of a distant kingdom, with unique houses and palaces nestled between centuries-old oak trees that hide it from the sight of the outside world. Giant statues carved out of mountain stone blend into the surroundings, and you feel like you've just been transported through time.

Due to its location at the very heart of the Midtaren Forest, its capital, hidden from the world, is almost untouched by time and war. They are also said to be the home of the best non-elven archers on the continent.

Midtaren is known for its intricate enchanted craftsmanship and is the safe haven to quite possibly the largest free elven population safely outside of the Hidden Elven Cities, with just as many mages there as well. It has been the ancient homeland of House Ashiren since the Ancient War, though Raelen and Julyan have not been there for years now.

VELLAMERE - The Sea Jewel:

The beauties of a seafaring town, the point of connection between multiple cultures, with sprawling markets filled to the brim with all the merchandise you could ever dream of, and landing ports just as filled with beautiful galleys, boats, and many kinds of ships with colorful sails of all Agrannorian nations and more.

The Middle Eastern, Phoenician, and Greek influences in this city's culture and aesthetic. Just, the beautiful scarfs and rare colorful jewelry on flowy silk clothes made for strolls on the beach or manning the sails of a merchant galley. The symbolic value of some things, the mighty buildings, and ships, the importance of family ties... The music too!!!

The beautiful sandy-colored castles nestled at the tops of rocky shores, with mighty pilasters of stone opening to wondrous balconies that give a perfect view of the sea and sunsets below.

THE SEA CREATURES!!! Terrifying sea monsters screeching from the darkness below your ship on a night travel to the isolated Storm Archipelago. The beautiful grouper-like giant fishes seamlessly swim between the bridges where the rivers go to meet the sea. The multicolored sea corals where merfolk and sirens are said to hide during high tide, on the rare occasions that they stray from their safe havens on distant rocky bays and the abyss below.

KESTRALL - The Dragon's Nest:

A stone-carved kingdom set on the heights of the most distant mountain tops, snow-covered and surrounded by ancient, petrified forests, where the strange mist of corrupted magic of the Shroud swirls throughout. Mighty fortresses carved directly into the mountain stone, looking over the valleys below, giant dragon-fire forges lighting the night in an ember orange glow, awaiting the Dragon Riders that fly through the night and the day.

Viking, Nordic, and Ancient European influences.

A city of warriors and dragon riders that are willing to brave the coldest weather on the continent, where the best runic weapons and metal jewelry are forged by Forgebearer mages with the help of Dragonfire. Fur cloaks rustling in the harsh wind, and buildings swirling around the mountainside.

DRAGONS!!! MANY DRAGONS!!!! A culture based on might, forged by the cold wind and the fire of their dragons.

A female High General who is undyingly loyal to the Queen she swore liege to over twenty winters ago, while also keeping her promise to her dead best friend in protecting his children.

ERGYRE - The Iron Thorn:

A proud iron-forged kingdom, neutral in the borders between the Morosyn Empire and the Free Realms. Its double-sided nature contrasts with the high morality of other neighboring kingdoms. After all, to them, what matters is that the businesses are flourishing, and the ends justify the means. That kind of Machiavellian mentality is very compelling to write about, even though it is cruel.

The SECRECY. The strangeness of a sprawling black market in the hearts of the many cities of one of the most important kingdoms of the continent. A city of perpetual smoke and colorfully artificial lights blaring all around, cramped shady marketplaces where anything can be found for the right price or right twist of a word.

The dangerous nature of this kingdom, which makes itself known to anyone who dares to walk unaccompanied through the heart of its cities, where the utopianly vivid nightlife is only rivaled by its dubious secrets, moral bankruptcy, and more.

The Carnival of Thorns and all the celebrations within it. A time of peace where the ruthless nature of the kingdom can cease in the name of fun, and royalty and common folk can enjoy a common ground with roots in their past.

THE STORM ISLES - The Lost Archipelago:

The aesthetic of a rocky archipelago that is hidden by sea fog and distant tides, where the most deadly sea monsters lurk in the night.

The unique culture of the city, with a colorful twist to all that they do, and an exquisite traditional cuisine based on a sea monster diet - which was brought back with a force after continent-based food sources were discovered to be contaminated by the Blood Curse plague in poorly sanitized galleys.

Giant sea shells being used as the basis for carved knickknacks and weaponry. A traveling culture based on the trade of knowledge and resources. The colorfully bright lights of the undersea caves.

MERFOLK AS A PART OF SOCIETY!!!! The cities having adaptions so that merfolk can walk amongst them safely, especially after the latter's vital aid on helping heal the humans from the Blood Curse plague epidemic, as merfolk are immune to it. They have been fully embraced as friends and Storm Islanders.

Colorful wood and stone houses connected by stray lines above head, from where beautiful lanterns hang and swing on the wind like chimes. A love for popular plays and musical shows. The best taverns in the world, owned by former pirates.

THE BEST, FASTEST, AND MOST DEADLY NAVY OF THE AGGRANORIAN WORLD. They specialize in ship-making, and nearly half of the royal Vellamerian navy was made by them, but their knowledge of the tides and seas make them the deadliest and most expert seafarers.

THE MOROSYN EMPIRE - The Reign of the Mighty:

An Empire built on an iron fist and a clear hierarchy, founded by an ancient warrior and scholar who sought to unify her lands in the face of a dire threat. Now, however, under the rule of the egotistical new Dynasty, things have started to change for the worse as honor gave way to oppression.

Mighty palaces carved out of grey stone and metal, marble halls and built on sharp, exquisite lines. The royal colors have unfortunately been shifted to accommodate the new Imperial symbol, under the decree of Emperor Aerich's grandfather before the Agrannorian Civil Wars even began.

A thirst for knowledge, ambition, and power fueling the strongest force that ever ruled over the northern side of the Continent, but it led to their corruption as well.

Writing a place so merciless, where efficiency and protocol replace a lot in their worldview, with an Emperor who rules as unexpectedly as a scorpion's strike is very challenging to write (but in a way that lets me test my skills), and their cruelty is something that is strange to write about - to show that they have corrupted themselves and strayed from the path of their former rulers in the name of controlling the world.

The SHEER TERROR it generates on the world around it, the power its name carries, and the horrible acts they do in the name of their reign, are something horrifying. It contrasts the heroic warmth and the welcoming feel of the Free Realms with cold deadliness, and ruthless pragmatism with its deadly and highly trained armies.

How they fail to realize that ruling by fear will force them to rule over the ashes of anyone in their path, and that the cheers that their people give them are ones of fear, not adoration. It is so obliviously smug and I hate that Emperor so much, but it is so interesting to write about tho.

LIRANTHIS - The Scholar's Archive:

The majestic and proud Archive is set in the kingdom's capital and within the incredibly important Liranthian Academies - which accept people FROM ALL WALKS OF LIFE, as long as their talents are worth investing in. The delicate buildings are made out of pure iridescent light stone.

A kingdom where knowledge and its collection are more important than wars, where delicate beauty is cultivated and inventions are encouraged.

The Alchemists and Inventors of Liranthis, my guys... They're something else. They have invented ways to create machinery that embodies the necessities of their city. The city filled with the gentle whirring sounds of giant iron gears below.

Tourneys and Competitions that are meant to showcase the intelligence and bright wit of their people, as well as the strength of their resolve.

LIBRARIES, TALENTED SEAMTRESSES, WINERIES OF ALL TASTES, GENTLE TAVERNS THAT SELL DIFFERENT KINDS OF WINE AND TEA INSTEAD OF ALE!!!!

Thank you so much for the Ask, @lassiesandiego!!!! I loved every second of it. 💕

[ad_1] The Cotswold villages are an embodiment of the picture-perfect English countryside. But there’s hidden variety in these rural charmers. Here’s our guide to the most beautiful places to visit in the Cotswolds. LAST UPDATE: 6 Nov 2023 Anywhere We Roam is reader-supported. When you buy through links on our site, we may earn a small affiliate commission at no extra cost to you. Thanks for your support – Paul & Mark. The beautiful Cotswolds villages fulfill an England that exists in the dreams of many. Honey-coloured stone cottages with steeply pitched roofs. Rolling green hills dotted with sheep. Boutique gift shops with cool country aesthetics and lavender in abundance. Foodies and artists flock to the Cotswolds, filling cobbled roads with top restaurants and art cool galleries. While it’s a popular destination, many of the best places to visit in the Cotswolds see few visitors. Real working towns with cramped old pubs and a great Cotswolds walk. For more ideas on what to do, read our guide to the best things to do in the Cotswolds. IN THIS GUIDE BEST PLACES TO VISIT IN THE COTSWOLDS 1 – CASTLE COMBE With a lack of tourist shops and a real lived-in feel, Castle Combe is one of the most beautiful places to visit in the Cotswolds. Rows of honey-coloured cottages extend from a 14th-century market square up a gentle slope, framed by a green backdrop. An otherworldly vibe has earned Castle Combe a regular appearance in the film industry and it’s easy to see why. With no cars allowed in the village, you are easily transported to another time. With green forested hills, quaint cottages, a babbling river, and a romantic bridge, Castle Combe is a beautiful place to visit in the UK. WHAT TO DO Take a picnic lunch and sit on the bench by the river opposite the old weaver’s cottages. Framed by the surrounding valley walls, it’s the classic view of Castle Combe. WHERE TO STAY? Book the Manor House for a luxurious break with a Michelin-star restaurant. The King’s Arms in Didmarton is a smart country pub. HIKING TRAILS NEAR CASTLE COMBE CASTLE COMBE CASTLE COMBE BRIDGE 2 – BIBURY Bibury is often described as the most beautiful village in the Cotswolds. It’s centred around a picturesque church and a charming village green. The most famous feature of Bibury is Arlington Row, where 17th-century weaver cottages ascend the gradual rise in the hill. It’s the most iconic photo spot in the Cotswolds. Bibury, and Arlington Row, in particular, is a popular spot for bus trips and it can be teeming with visitors throughout the day. But, if you make it to Bibury for sunrise, you’ll have one of the best Cotswolds villages all to yourself. SWAN HOTEL ARLINGTON ROW WHAT TO DO? Stroll along Arlington Row. See the countryside with our Castle Combe walk. Explore the Rack Isle Nature Reserve. WHERE TO STAY ARLINGTON ROW, BIBURY RACK ISLE NATURE RESERVE ARLINGTON ROW 3 – BROADWAY Broadway is at the foot of the western end of the Cotswolds escarpment. It’s one of the best destinations in the Cotswolds for shopping and modern country style. Old-style tea rooms lure visitors with high tea and fresh scones. Antique shops styled in subtle Cotswolds grey, are crammed with unique quirky pieces. The picturesque high street has drawn famous artists including Claude Monet. He found inspiration in what is now the Abbots Grange Manor House. On top of the nearby Fish Hill is Broadway Tower. This folly is a great place to watch the sunset over the town. BROADWAY TOWER WHAT TO DO? WHERE TO STAY? ST EADBURGHA’S CHURCH BROADWAY TOWER 4 – STANTON The only sign of commercialisation in Stanton is The Mount Inn. Set at the foot of Shenbarrow Hill, the pub is perfectly positioned above the town with sweeping views. On a clear day, see all the way to the Welsh mountains. From the deck of the pub, the consistent architecture of Stanton is displayed in typical Cotswolds style. Stanton manages to create a cosy feel on its own merits, without appearing specifically contrived for tourists.

It is one of our favourite villages in the Cotswolds for a quiet, relaxing break. WHAT TO DO? Stanton is a great base for some excellent country walks. The deck on the Mount Inn overlooking the town is an excellent place to end a classic Cotswolds hike. WHERE TO STAY? To visit Stanton we’d recommend staying around Broadway. We have more suggestions here: where to stay in the Cotswolds. STANTON 5 – MINSTER LOVELL Minster Lovell assumes a veiled location by the banks of the Windrush River. It’s a beautiful tiny village where you can enjoy afternoon tea while watching a game of cricket on the green. But the main reason for visiting Minster Lovell is the picturesque ruins of a 15th-century manor house. Resting on the banks of the river, it’s an idyllic location in the English countryside. There are plenty of picnic spots on the grassy fields on either side of the river, and a weir provides the perfect spot for a swim. Minster Lovell is an untouched Cotswolds village in an idyllic rural setting. WHAT TO DO? Go wild swimming around the crumbling ruins. Take the circular Minster Lovell walk to see the best of the area. WHERE TO STAY? 6 – PAINSWICK The prosperity Painswick enjoyed from the 17th century is evident. The elegant grey limestone buildings makes this one of the more regal Cotswold villages. A maze of cobbled laneways provides plenty of spaces to explore with the village cascading down the side of a hill. The main attraction in Painswick is St Mary’s Church and its immaculate grounds. Decorated with rows of yew trees and surrounded by tombs and monuments, it’s a popular filming location in the Cotswolds. WHAT TO DO? Take a stroll through the fanciful Rococo Gardens on the outskirts of Painswick. Photograph the church grounds. Have a pint in the Royal Oak. WHERE TO STAY? 7 – BOURTON-ON-THE-WATER Bourton-on-the-Water is one of the best villages in the Cotswolds with a range of activities to keep the whole family entertained. A picturesque canal runs down the high street with handsome stone bridges connecting either side of the road. Trendy cafes mix with quaint tea rooms and ice cream stands. Like any small village worth its salt, there are plenty of bakeries It’s a cute and photogenic place to stroll around and jump from cafe to cafe. WHAT TO DO? WHERE TO STAY? BOURTON ON THE WATER 8 – UPPER SLAUGHTER & LOWER SLAUGHTER Upper Slaughter and Lower Slaughter are two tiny but beautiful Cotswolds villages. Building has not taken place in the Slaughters since 1906, so they remain quintessential English rural villages. River Eye – a tributary of the River Windrush – winds its way through the village. Honey-coloured cottages and cute churches dot the banks. There are no shops in either village, just several places along the river to soak up the scenery. WHAT TO DO? Walk the 20-minute trail between the two villages. Alternatively, try our 17-kilometre walk between the Slaughters, Bourton, and Naunton. WHERE TO STAY? LOWER SLAUGHTER 9 – KINGHAM Kingham is a small working community and the best villages in the Cotswolds for foodies. The local pub – The Kingham Plough – is operated under a Heston Blumenthal prodigy. It’s the perfect cosy pub to enjoy a pint and some top-quality cooking after a long day of hiking in the area. The Wild Rabbit crafts culinary masterpieces in an impressive but relaxed setting. It’s not cheap, but it’s great for a special occasion. WHAT TO DO? The nearby Daylesford Organic has a farm shop with an excellent selection of local produce. Grab a few bites to take on a picnic, or have lunch in their modern cafe. WHERE TO STAY? Book a weekend at either the Plough or the Wild Rabbit – two of the best places to stay in the Cotswolds. KINGHAM 10 – LACOCK Lacock is owned and managed by the National Trust so it lacks the lived-in feel of other Cotswold villages. However, the protection of the trust has ensured that Lacock has been well preserved.

It’s largely unchanged since it was established in the 13th century as a wool trading centre.  Half-timber, half-stone cottages line wonky laneways that fill the village with charm and character. Shops have maintained their original simple branding. Films such as Pride and Prejudice and Emma have filmed in this charming Cotswolds village. WHAT TO DO? Visit Lacock Abbey, founded in 1229 by Ela, the Countess of Salisbury. It’s a quirky country house with varying architectural styles inherited over the centuries. WHERE TO STAY? LACOCK LACOCK ABBEY 11 – STOW-ON-THE-WOLD Stow-on-the-Wold is a charming market village in the Cotswolds with a reputation for a vibrant antiques scene. Situated at the top of a hill, the town centres around a large market square which is surrounded by elegant Cotswolds townhouses.   Like many of the best villages, Stow has a wealth of tea rooms and artisanal coffee shop. Stow Town Coffee which roasts its own beans and The Hive does an excellent café lunch. The highlight of a visit to Stow-on-the-Wold is St Edward’s Church. The old door under a tree is one of the most Instagram-able spots in the Cotswolds. WHAT TO DO? Grab a bargain in a vintage shop on the high street. Have lunch at the Porch House, the Oldest Inn in England. Peruse the contemporary British artwork at the Fosse Gallery. WHERE TO STAY? ST EDWARDS CHURCH STOW ON THE WOLD 12 – CHIPPING CAMPDEN Chipping Campden is one of the best Cotswolds villages with a grand high street, lined with handsome, golden houses. They were built by wealthy merchants between the 14th and 17th centuries. The highlights are St James Church, a towering landmark that can be seen from miles away, and the 17th-century Campden House Gateway. Don’t miss the Market Hall which still stands from Chipping Campden’s wool trading glory days. The Woolstaplers Hall was an important wool-buying hall. One of the most popular attractions in Chipping Campden is the thatched-roof houses. On the side streets of the high street, you’ll find examples of grand Cotswold residential architecture WHAT TO DO? Court Barn Museum is a small museum celebrating the creative heritage of Chipping Camden. Hidcote Manor is a 10-minute drive away. Read all the details here: guide to visiting the Cotswolds. Stroll around looking for thatched roofs. WHERE TO STAY? 13 – BURFORD Burford is often considered the gateway to the Cotswolds. It’s located on the River Windrush, and it’s a great place to visit on a day trip to Oxford. The high street which follows a hill down towards the river is one of the most beautiful places in the Cotswolds. Lined with a rambling collection of medieval houses and shops, you’ll find local antiques and delis. There’s a great selection of galleries, bookshops, and of course, classic Cotswolds pubs. St John’s Church is a display of Burford’s prior wealth with memorials to great families who were connected to Henry VIII. WHAT TO DO? Pick up supplies, then head to the nearby Minster Lovell for a picnic. One of our favourite day trips in the Cotswolds. Admire the historic stone cottages on Burford Hill. Pop into the Tolsey Museum, a small free exhibition on local history. WHERE TO STAY? ST JOHN’S CHURCH BURFORD HIGH STREET 14 – CIRENCESTER Cirencester was the second-largest Roman centre in Britain. A significant road structure helped it develop a thriving wool trade. Continuing from this prosperous base, Cirencester is today the largest town in the Cotswolds. The colourful main square, Market Place, mixes Cotswolds stone with pastel-coloured facades and timber-framed architecture. Leading off the square, the huge English Gothic Church of St John the Baptist has a stunning fan-vaulted ceiling. Cirencester Park, just outside the town, is one of the finest landscaped gardens in England. It’s free to enter from 8 am to 5 pm each day. WHAT TO DO? WHERE TO STAY? 15 – SNOWSHILL Snowshill is a small village in the Cotswolds that is often overlooked, but there are a few great reasons to visit.

Firstly, it’s set around a small church green lined with cottages overlooking the countryside. The setting is lovely. Secondly, it’s part of one of the best walks in the Cotswolds. which stops at the Snowshill Arms. The main attraction in the village, however, is the Snowhill Manor. This 16th-century country house is one of the most interesting places to visit in the Cotswolds. It has an enormous collection of objects acquired by its eccentric owner, Charles Paget Wade. There are several listed buildings on the property including the brewhouse and the dovecote. WHAT TO DO? Stroll the gardens at Snowshill Manor, laid out in a series of outdoor rooms with terraces, ponds, and formal beds. Walk the Stanton to Snowshill hike on the Cotswolds Way. WHERE TO STAY? Buckland Manor is a regal stay in a traditional manor house. The Fish is a very cool property with cabins, tree houses, and luxury suites. COTSWOLD MAP The Cotswolds cover an area of 787 square miles across the centre of England. It’s located within easy access of London, Bristol, and Birmingham. Our map contains all the places listed in this guide. >> How to use this map / Click on the top left of the map to display the list of locations, then click on the locations to display further information. Click on the top right corner of the map to open a larger version in a new tab or the star to save to your Google Maps.   ITINERARIES FOR VISITING THE COTSWOLDS Many of the best destinations in the Cotswolds are close to each other making them easy to visit in one day if you have your own car. Here are some more guides to help you plan your Cotswolds itinerary. Best Cotswold Weekends – 5 itineraries to see several of the best places in the Cotswolds over a weekend with pub and restaurant recommendations and things to do. Cotswolds Walks – Our favourite, very achievable, walks in the area with detailed instructions and maps. All our walks are circular and most finish at a great pub. Cotswolds Day Trips – 10 ideas for great day trips to the Cotswolds with all the information you need for a great day out. COTSWOLDS TOURS The other way to see the prettiest places in the Cotswolds is via an organised tour. This is a great way to see some of the area if you’re pressed for time or just want to meet some other people who are up for a day out in the Cotswolds as well. MORE UK GUIDES ANYWHERE WE ROAM IS READER-SUPPORTED If you found this guide useful, booking your trip via the links on this page earns us a small commission at no extra cost to you. You can also buy us a coffee. Big thanks – Paul & Mark. FOLLOW US ON INSTAGRAM // FACEBOOK [ad_2] Source link

Continued from this.

I saved this screenshot as "time for damnation".

As I discussed last time, wanting to reduce harm to specifically marginalized groups like the Beastwomen is one of the big reasons someone might choose the egalitarian evil of the Scarlet Chorus over the frothingly racist Disfavored. As I also mentioned, the Beastwomen Tribes are rather aesthetically and philosophically similar to the Chorus, so if there is anything you genuinely like about the Chorus, you will probably like the Beastwomen even more. With that in mind, I think it's interesting that the Stone Sea is invariably quest three of three on the Chorus path of Act II. You can't do it early, and you can't avoid doing it altogether. You will be sent into this having already sunk a lot of costs.

And, of course, as a Hunter Fatebinder, Fireweed has something of a personal stake here.

Up until now, this has all been pretty fun for her! Hunting prey with Kills-in-Shadow, slaughtering Disfavored, doing all sorts of shit Tunon wouldn't normally let her get away with... It feels like freedom. Even running errands for the Voices has been more like a weird, ironic joke than anything truly disturbing. The Censor played stupid games and won stupid prizes--clearly because she wasn't smart like Fireweed, who knows perfectly well what's coming and has all sorts of ideas for how to burn that bridge when she gets to it. Amelia almost got to her with the reveal she'd turned against her father, but then she went and symbolically donned her old Disfavored armor like that was supposed to do anything but make Fireweed want to hurt her more. The baby is... probably going to be more or less okay, eventually. Fireweed went through bigger upheavals as a small child, and she turned out fine! Florian, Sybil, Matthias... what does she care about any of them? What does she care if, as TGEK discusses, she had to trade in on her honor as a Fatebinder? Remember her self-introduction in the biography tab? She doesn't want to be a Fatebinder! Her game here, aside from avenging herself on the Disfavored and doing what she can to give the Beasts of the Tiers some kind of future, is to accumulate power in her own right and define herself by her deeds rather than her office, so she can finally rip out Tunon's throat like she's been dreaming of since she was a teenager. Which, when you think about it, is itself very Scarlet Chorus.

The first thing she runs into in Halfgate is the situation with Left-Claw, but this time the Chorus is still around, and one of them confirms that, yes, this whole thing was a set-up to conscript him, and asks for her help with that.

Key word: asks. He's a Fury, not Nerat. He even calls her "boss". She still has a choice in this.

Some Hunter dialogue with Left-Claw. For the moment, this is still earnestly true.

No fucks given.

This is the kind of moment that makes Fireweed's awful life worth living.

Reporting to Misery, she informs us that the Scarlet Chorus needs to get through the Stonestalkers' camp and has absolutely zero preference whether that's accomplished by killing them or securing their cooperation. This works for Fireweed, who is always happy having freedom to express her own preferences.

She also teases Fireweed about her weird mixed register. It's a well timed comment, since Fireweed spends this quest bouncing around even more wildly than usual between Beast-talk, Chorus-talk, and Court-talk.

What do you think happens when you learn to speak with too many voices?

This is very funny, because when you do bring Kills-in-Shadow to meet Hundred-Blood, it only nets you wrath, not favor. Kills-in-Shadow may be generally sympathetic to her kith, but she is also herself and cannot help mouthing off about the superiority of her own pack. Not exactly great for diplomacy!

Gee, what a fucking mystery.

By the way, see that utterly unhinged-sounding [Betray Alliance] option? Remember that this quest is necessarily the last stop on the Chorus path. The Fatebinder's brain might be turning to scarlet mush.

Ironically, taking that option would be a lot healthier for Fireweed than what she is about to do.

Kills-in-Shadow is more right than she knows about Hundred-Blood's patience. As TGEK discusses in his LP, the Stonestalkers are easily some of the most reasonable people in this game.

And, hey, Fireweed isn't a rot-smelling pest! She's kith! Maybe she can get everyone to play nice together! (Or maybe she's about to trade in on the part of herself that does matter to her.)

CAN'T IMAGINE WHY.

Yep, this is what's going to get her in to speak on behalf of the Chorus. Surely Fireweed will have no reasons to feel weird about that down the line.

As you might expect, there's a lot of Hunter dialogue in the Stonestalker camp. Or "dialogue," as the case may be. (That second screenshot I saved as "what a meaningful conversation".)

Fireweed's official objective in the Stone Sea is to break the Edict of Stone and restore the farmlands. Sounds like that might not be a great thing for the Stonestalkers. On the other hand, is letting the Edict rage forever--possibly getting stronger over time, as Lantry tells us tends to happen--any more sustainable? What happens when all your prey is petrified or starved from lack of vegetation?

Diplomacy! Compromise! Quid pro quo! These are good things, right?

(No, they're not, not when it comes to the Chorus. We saw what happened to Matthias.)

The first time I played Fireweed, I just went ahead and slit his throat because it was funny. Then when I played the rebel path I found out that the way you join the Stonestalker tribe is by resolving this situation diplomatically. And then I vaguely heard that joining the tribe gives you more options in the final conversation with Hundred-Blood on the Chorus path. Maybe that's the secret way to salvage this? So, uh, Fireweed shows some restraint around the Disfavored for basically the first time since the civil war started, I guess to avoid setting fire to the standoff situation here and dragging all the Stonestalkers into a fight.

Again, the Stonestalkers actually have a lot of patience. Maybe more than anyone else.

This might just be the last time it isn't a blatant lie.

After getting initiated into the Stonestalkers and resolving the situation, Fireweed returns to Hundred-Blood.

And there's a new option!

Oh. That's not going to be enough for him.

She warns her. She gets Stonestalker favor for warning her, because the Stonestalkers really are astonishingly reasonable! But aside from that, it doesn't change anything. She already knows it isn't going to change anything. What are the chances Hundred-Blood won't set him off with her fierce pride and refusal to bow and scrape? What are the chances she'll be able to overcome him, strong as she is? Low enough that you can round them down to zero.

The rest of this quest is just Fireweed slowly going insane.

FUCK YOU. Two beastmen are worth twenty average conscripts! If she'd gotten you more, you'd probably have been stupid enough to make them fight to the death! Go jump off a cliff! Sirin, tell him to jump off a cliff!

Fuck yeah, bullying subordinates and using a teenager as a weapon!

(Yes, the kidnapping option is even more horrifying. The Chorus aren't supposed to conscript children! They're supposed to shelter and nurture any children they happen to orphan until they reach the age of majority, and never just take them from living parents! That's one of their only rules! But I guess it doesn't apply to Beast cubs. So much for not being racist.)

Turning in the search and rescue quest after being initiated as a Stonestalker gives you a new dialogue option. It's... weird. But exactly the kind of weird that Fireweed is currently enough of an unmoored, flailing mess to come out with. She's part of a Beast tribe again! That's definitely something real, and not just her going through the motions so she can turn around and take advantage of them! The Stonestalkers are great! Everything is great! Fuck you, human!!!

His final line is even weirder. Previously, I've only seen him say that as a response to Kills-in-Shadow butting in. Even in that context it's kind of an overblown nonsequitor, but what more can you expect from an angry racist? Here, though, it almost sounds like her insistence that she's a Beast made him actually see her as inhuman. Since she's trying to think like an Archon, she is going to go ahead and take that as a sign she is doing something right!

(I'm coming up on the images per post limit, so, cutting off here. One more post! For real this time!)

Silver Threads of Heritage: Exploring Hopi Jewelry Artistry

In the heart of the American Southwest, culture, history, and artistry is revealed via the intricate threads of Hopi jewelry. Each artwork carries the legacy of a people whose traditions have been passed down through generations. 

From the handsome glint of silver to the vibrant hues of stones, this type of jewelry reflects a rich heritage celebrating craftsmanship, symbolism, and a deep connection to the land. 

In this article, we will explore this art form by uncovering the stories woven into each artwork and the enduring spirit of the Hopi people.

A Glimpse into Hopi Culture

The Hopi people, who live in the dry regions of northeastern Arizona, have a strong sense of connectedness to and regard for the natural world. Their jewelry is linked with this spiritual connection, since each item references their collective psyche. 

Their jewelry, from the most basic earrings to the most ornate necklaces, is a vehicle relating to their cultural heritage.

The Allure of Silver

Silver is the main material in Hopi jewelry craftsmanship. This is because of its glossy luster and malleability. This metal is more than just a substance. It is a blank canvas to paint tales, traditions, and worldviews. 

By utilizing techniques handed down through the decades, Hopi artists have mastered working with silver to produce stylized designs honoring their ancestors.

Innovative Designs with Symbolic Significance

Jewelry made by the Hopi people is recognized for its dramatic designs, which frequently incorporate geometric patterns, motifs taken from nature, and culturally significant symbols. 

Each aspect of the design has a symbolic meaning, conveying tales of spirituality, creation, and the interdependence of all living things. The water may stand for purity and rebirth, while the spiral may represent the path of life.

Thus, these patterns acknowledge the cosmos as a guiding force, including the sun, moon, and stars.

Techniques Spanning Time

The methods used to create Hopi jewelry prove their artists' skills. An overlay hallmark method entails thoroughness cutting and soldering two sheets of silver to produce a three-dimensional impression that gives the design depth. 

Another conventional technique is called tufa casting, which entails cutting elaborate designs onto tufa stone to produce a mold for pouring molten silver. 

These methods have been used by Hopi artists for years now which guarantee that each jewelry is a one-of-a-kind work of art.

From Tradition to Innovation

While having a strong tradition-based foundation, these jewelries value innovation and adaptation. Hopi contemporary painters incorporate contemporary elements into their works while drawing inspiration from their cultural background. 

This blending of the old and modern illustrates how culture is dynamic and shows how tradition may change without losing its essential qualities.

Cultural Significance and Rituals

Hopi jewelry is more than just an aesthetic statement. It is ingrained in daily life and ceremonial practices. Ceremonial jewelry has great spiritual importance and is frequently worn during holy occasions. 

The Hopi spirit creatures known as katsina are frequently portrayed in jewelry as a bridge between the material and spiritual worlds. Wearing these items expresses identity and a tribute to the ancestors.

Preservation and Revival

Over time, the legacy of Hopi culture & artistry encountered obstacles such as cultural appropriation and commercialization. The Hopi people, however, are adamant about preserving and reviving their customs. 

A newfound understanding of the cultural significance of their jewelry has resulted from efforts to teach their community and the larger world about it.

Conclusion

Hopi jewelry artwork is a testament to the resilience of a culture that thrives in harmony with the earth. The Hopi people have preserved their stories, traditions, and spiritual beliefs through generations of hands that have shaped silver and stones. 

This jewelry adorns the body and carries with it the soul of a community, inviting us to cherish the beauty of their artistry and the wisdom of their traditions. Savvy Collector brings amazing artwork of Hopi jewelry. Visit our official website to encompass a diverse spectrum of artworks, seamlessly blending tradition and modernity.

Robert Felton: Carving His Path to a Future He’s Crafting Now

So, there just have to be reasons. There have to be reasons why residents of the Wheeling area were willing to endure the three years it took to rebuild Interstate 70 in Ohio County, and there have to be reasons why those same motorists are navigating the aggravation involved with a downtown streetscape project that took longer to design than it will to complete. There are vacant buildings and ongoing demolitions, a declining population and an increasing median age, and there is a past that’s vastly more popular than the region’s present and perpetual reinventing status. Seriously, when will it all end? So, you see, that’s why Robert Felton must know something more than most. Sure, he grew up here, and yes, his grandfather, Ross Felton, is a local legend, and his father, Jack, is a partner of a successful accounting firm in the middle – literally – of the downtown district. But Robert? One of four children who was graduated from The Linsly School School (2014) and Marietta College (2018)?  With the credentials he’s already able to list? - Member of the City of Wheeling’s Board of Zoning Appeals. - Member for the City of Wheeling’s Entertainment Endowment Committee. - Member of Parish Council member for the Cathedral of St. Joseph. - Member of the Saints and Sinners, which raises funds for various charities. - Member of the St. Clairsville Moose Lodge. - Member of Lewis Wetzel Rifle & Pistol Club. Plus, the 27-year-old already is a financial advisor for the recently formed McKenzie Riedel Wealth Management firm in Center Wheeling. So, Robert knows something alright. He knows what and who he loves, and he knows just where to find it all in one place. Home. Felton starred for Linsly as a student, and now is a coaching for the Cadets. Why are so proud to be an alum of The Linsly School? The extent of my pride with The Linsly School didn’t fully develop until I had already graduated. While enrolled, I considered Linsly a nurturing but tough-love environment, which was exactly what I needed. It’s a culture enriched in tradition where the closest of friends will be in healthy competitions involving academics, athletics, clubs, or the arts. I particularly enjoyed my involvement with the school-wide art and declamation poetry contests and the annual Extravaganza at the Capitol Theatre. Although we were students from around the world, one unifying notion bound us together: if you want to be the best, you simply have to work the hardest. While in college, I fully realized my gratitude for my Linsly education and the relationships with fellow students, teachers and school staff. It’s important to help current students realize the impact that the institution can have on the rest of their lives. Today, I enjoy coaching soccer at Linsly and connecting with students. I try to instill in them not only the importance of hard work and being there for your teammates but also that receiving a Linsly education is a real honor. While a student, it can be easy to forget, but I wouldn’t trade my education and time at Linsly for anything. How disappointing is it to you that the renovations on the McLure Hotel have stopped until further notice? It was refreshing that we saw some investment into such a vitally historic building in Wheeling. As one of most historic properties in Wheeling, largely from housing multiple United States presidents, the McLure Hotel is unlike any other property downtown. I’m confident that the hotel will again be a staple in our downtown community. Downtown living has rightfully been at the forefront of discussions in Wheeling. These discussions largely stemmed from the vast investments into downtown residential properties including the Boury Lofts, Stone Center Lofts, The Dorris on Main, The Bridge Tavern, the DiCarlo’s Building, the Flatiron Building, and the McLain Flats. Each of them is coupled with a far more aesthetically pleasing view of downtown Wheeling on the horizon, thanks to the streetscape project and restoration of the Suspension Bridge.  The team at McKenzie Riedel Wealth Management was formed about six months ago. Why is your firm - McKenzie Riedel - so successful when it comes to wealth management?  The success of our team is not only because we have uniquely astounding clients, but the depth of our team is frankly unmatched. From the top down, our team expresses the importance of getting to know our clients through developing genuine relationships. We’re a truly collaborative group solely devoted to those that entrust us with vital financial decisions.  Do you plan to remain in Wheeling or move to another city with a larger population?  I would love to be in Wheeling for the rest of my life. There’s the business side of it, where some of my most enjoyable conversations are working with clients that I’ve had lengthy relationships with. There’s also the side of it where I simply want to see Wheeling thrive and I can’t think of a reason to leave. The caliber of activities to engage in throughout our community are unlike any other city comparable to Wheeling’s population. We can’t forget that we’re the smallest city in the country with a world-class symphony and we have the country’s largest self-supporting public municipal park, Oglebay, in our backyard. If you want to take a deep breath away from Wheeling and travel, Interstate 70 and the Pittsburgh International Airport will take you there. While it can be easy to look back on the past success of Wheeling and the once vibrant downtown, I’m confident that the right gears are in motion to achieve grand success again. Even downtown’s torn-up streets and sidewalks can’t slow down Wheeling’s momentum.  Ross Felton was a visionary during his career in broadcast and entertainment in the Wheeling. Felton passed away in December 2017. What is the best lesson ever taught to you by your grandfather, Ross Felton? Often remembered for his humility, many of the lessons that I learned from my grandfather were stories or experiences that I witnessed in how he engaged with others. He had an ability to treat everyone that he knew with respect and a couple of instances specifically exemplified that respect. Possibly his most notable accomplishment was the founding of Jamboree in the Hills. One summer when I was in college, we took him to “The Jamboree” on a Sunday afternoon. It was remarkable to see not only some of country music’s biggest stars but also many of his old employees of all rank and file, want to spend time with him and express their gratitude. When he retired from Jamboree in the Hills, WWVA, and Capitol Theatre, he found a new way to continue to give back to our community. Well into his 80s, he delivered meals for Catholic Charities to those that were homebound. While I was in middle school, I delivered meals with him one summer morning. I remember that he was never in a rush to drop the food off and go to the next recipient. He wanted to take his time with each person that he delivered a meal to, ask them about their day, and ensure they knew they were important to him. CAR 0623-01732 Read the full article

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.

Mr. Loftie’s History of London

Till the appearance of Mr. Loftie’s History of London (2 vols. 1883), we had not a single scholarly history of our great city. But for more than two centuries there have been produced a long series of works on the topography and monuments of Paris. And we have now a splendid series of treatises issued by the Municipal Council, the Histoire Gfnirale de Paris, begun in 1865. When I was on the London County Council, I endeavoured to induce the Council to undertake a similar work for London; but I found that, with an annual expenditure of some two millions, the Municipality of London had no power to expend a penny on such an object.

With all this prodigious wealth of historic record beneath our feet as we tread over old Paris, how little do we think of any part of it, as we stroll about new Paris of to-day. We lounge along the boulevards, the quays and ‘places,’ with thoughts intent on galleries and gardens, theatres and shops, thinking as little of the past history of the ground we tread as a fly crawling over a picture by Raphael thinks of high art. Haussmann, and the galleries, the Boulevards, and the opera smother up the story of Paris, much as a fair with its booth, scaffoldings, and advertisements masks the old buildings round some mediaeval market-place. Ceci tuera cela, said Victor Hugo of the book and the Cathedral.

No ! it is not the book which has killed old Paris. It is Haussmann and his imitators, the architectural destroyers, restorers, and aesthetic Huns and Vandals. Not that we deny to Haussmannised Paris some delightful visions, many brilliant, some even beautiful effects. But to most foreign visitors, and perhaps to most modern Parisians, Haussmann has buried old Paris both actually and morally — hiding it behind a screen private guide turkey, disguising it with new imitation work, or dazzling the eye till it loses all sense of beauty in the old work.

Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination

The effort to recall old Paris when we stand in new Paris certainly imposes a strain on the imagination. When we stand on some bright morning in early summer in the Place de la Concorde whilst all is gaiety and life, children playing in the gardens, the fountains sparkling in the sun, and long vistas of white stone glistening in the light, with towers, spires, terraces, and bridges in long perspective, and the golden cross high over the dome of the Invalides, it is not easy to recall the aspect of the spot we stand on when it was soaked with the blood of the victims of the guillotine from King and Queen to Madame Roland and Charlotte Corday; we forget that every tower and terrace we look on has resounded to the roar of cannon and the shouts of battle, with fire and smoke, with all the forces of destruction and all the passions of hell — not once or twice but repeatedly for a century; nay, how the same scenes of carnage and of battle have raged through Revolution and Fronde, League and St. Bartholomew, and English wars and feudal faction fights back to the days of Counts of Paris, and Franks, Huns, Gauls, and Romans. And after all these storms, the city still smiles on us as a miracle of gaiety, brightness, industry, and culture, keeping some scar, or remnant, or sign of every tempest it has witnessed.

It has happened to us at times to stand on some beautiful coast on one of those lovely days which succeed a storm, when ripples dance along the blue and waveless sea, whilst the glassy water gently laps the pebbled beach, and yet but a few hours before we have seen that same coast lashed into foam, whilst wild billows swept into the abyss precious things and priceless lives of men. So I often think Paris looks in its brightness and calm a few short years after one of her convulsions; fulfilling her ancient motto —Jluctuat nec mergitur. Her bark rides upon every billow and does not sink. Fresh triumphs of industry and art and knowledge follow upon her wildest storm.