#Isolette
Video
Fayette Farm by Neil Kesterson
Via Flickr:
Central Kentucky horse farm. Agfa Isolette III, Ilford HP4+, HC-110 B
#120#6x6#Agfa#B&W#FP4#HC-110#Ilford#Isolette#Plustek#analog#black and white#film#folder#medium format#rangefinder#flickr
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Album Review: The Drums - Jonny
Words: Ryan Walker
Just who are The Drums? Or perhaps the best question should really be – WHO is The Drums? After all – since their classic, eponymous album released over ten years ago, and gradually into the ‘solo Drums’ albums (the last with any official member was the excellent ‘Encyclopedia’ with Jacob Graham), it’s been Jonny Pierce who has stood centre stage, bearing the heart, raw and…
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#Album Review#Anti-#Better#Birthday cake for breakfast#I Want It All#Isolette#Jacob Graham#Jonny#Jonny Pierce#Obvious#Rico Nasty#The Drums#The Flowers
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NEW THE DRUMS ALBUM LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
#i haven't actually been that excited about these new singles????#like don't get me wrong i've listened to 'obvious' obsessively and i've screamed myself hoarse singing along to 'better'#but the rest have only been?? fine?????#but then i heard the transition from 'isolette' to 'i'm still scared' and knew i was in for a Treat#also it's really been four years since 'brutalism' Huh#the drums#jonny#jonny pierce
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Sunset on Benidorm beach, 2017.
#6x6format#agfa isolette iii#analog photography#analogue#kodak portra 160#film is not dead#film photography#120 film#medium format#natural light#photographers of tumblr
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Video
Jet Trails by Alan Yahnke
Via Flickr:
Agfa Isolette 1, Agfa Agnar 1:4.5/85mm, Vario Shutter - Fuji Pro 160C - Epson V750 Scanner
#Agfa Isolette 1#Agfa Agnar 1:4.5/85mm#Vario Shutter Fuji Pro 160C - Epson V750 Scanner#Fuji Pro 160C#fence post#Epson V750 Scanner#flickr
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Agfa isolette 1 manual
://vk.cc/c7jKeU" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">DOWNLOAD LINK</a></u><br>vk.cc/c7jKeU</strong> <br><p> </p><br>AGFA ISOLETTE 1 MANUAL >> <strong><u><a href="http://bit.do/fSmfG" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">READ ONLINE</a></u><br>bit.do/fSmfG</strong> <p> </p><p> </p></center><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>agfa isolette i
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<br> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>We provide free online pdf manuals for digital and film cameras: Agfa Agfamatic Precisa, Record, Selecta, Sensor, Silette, Super Isolette, Super Silette, X.
Vtg Original 20 page AGFA Isolette I owner's manual in German Vintage Agfa Isolette Folding camera with Apotar 1:4.5 8.5cm lens for repair.
Agfa Isolette 4.5 instruction manual, Agfa Isolette I Gebrauchsanweisung, user manual. This camera manual library is for reference
The Agfa Super Isolette completes the wide range of Agfa Isolette models, from "A" to the number 1, and the film is ready for the first exposure.
Please note the number of your camera and of its lens (camera number on the outside of spool flange). To insert film spool: Slip one spool end over fixedAgfa camera instruction manuals in PDF format. Agfa Ansco Readyset Royal No. 1 / Agfa Ansco Readyset Royal No. 1A Agfa, Agfa Isolette III.
</p><br>https://sikebifimik.tumblr.com/post/692966269328211968/citizen-blue-angels-manual-espanol, https://sikebifimik.tumblr.com/post/692965521632755712/manual-oficial-del-conductor-de-ontario, https://sikebifimik.tumblr.com/post/692965521632755712/manual-oficial-del-conductor-de-ontario, https://ruxojutuw.tumblr.com/post/692965923045490688/toastmasters-communicating-on-video-pdf, https://sikebifimik.tumblr.com/post/692965775288516608/chemkin-manual.
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L’amore interrotto si fa indietro come il mare, lasciando nuda la sabbia e le conchiglie al sole, e l’orecchino che mia madre perdette tanto tempo fa brilla laggiù, oltre gli scogli. Le alghe dimenticano la danza della corrente e qualche pesce sconta la sua distrazione.
L’amore zittito lascia nuda la sabbia, ma è ciò che accade dopo a rivelare a pieno il suo fenomeno. Spesso è una lenta desertificazione, che fa le crepe piene di sale, e l’odore di spiaggia abbandonata; e il sole brucia, ma non riscalda. Spesso, ed è normale, irreversibile.
Altre volte, però, è un’onda che si carica, piano piano. Si ritira prima come un velo, diventa un mantello; prende il respiro, gonfia i polmoni all’abisso e solleva navi da carico come balocchi, sommergendo isolette e piccoli fari, mentre ancora i bambini giocano a riva. Poi, all’improvviso, come un muro che sembra fermo e invece corre, si fa strada all’orizzonte, anzi lo copre. Da lontano i pochi bagnanti abituati a guardare lontano, fuori da sé, restano immobili, come di fronte a qualcosa che non siamo venuti al mondo per contenere, che ci lascia a occhi sgranati, bocca aperta e ginocchia paralizzate. Gli altri se ne accorgeranno presto, ma sarà tardi.
L’amore arrestato, a volte, sembra andare e invece torna, e si abbatte a tradimento - è la natura, eccezionale! - in un silenzio di luce, in mezzo alle palme, tra le barchette ormeggiate, quando tutto sembrava placato, nella vacanza del cuore. Chi si salva, non si sa.
#ninoelesirene#pensieri#frasi#persone#riflessioni#sentimenti#letteraturabreve#emozioni#amore#aforismi#amore interrotto
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Croci
Tornando a casa
percorrevo la strada costiera.
Quella che da Positano
riconduce alla sommità
della penisola sorrentina.
E di tanto in tanto,
mi apparivano su in alto,
proprio in cima alla scogliera
le croci poste in vetta,
a scandire i punti più alti
della parete rocciosa.
Pure sulle isolette, appena al largo
altre croci.
Sotto... in basso, il mare
riverberante dei colori del tramonto.
Guidavo lungo i tanti tornanti
La radio al minimo.
E pensavo, a quanti rapporti persi
smarriti evaporati...
La Vita ha più croci di un cimitero
La Vita di tutti, cosi
piena di croci.
Le croci di tutti i rapporti finiti
nel silenzio.
Gli amori spezzati.
Gli amori soffocati nella polvere.
Le amicizie
apparentemente indissolubili
spentesi come sigarette.
Anche i rapporti familiari esausti.
Rapporti rassegnati, sfibrati
irrigiditi come fossili.
Persone perdute nel proprio orgoglio.
Persone allontanatesi per convenienza.
Conoscenze mai evolutesi.
Sintonie spezzate in un momento
o in pochi giorni o in mesi o in anni.
croci
c r o c i
c r o c i
T a n t e c r o c i
[ k ]
.
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Video
flickr
Flagship by Neil Kesterson
Via Flickr:
Douglas DC-3 at the 2022 Dayton Airshow. Agfa Isolette III, Ilford HP4+, HC-110 B
#120#6x6#Agfa#B&W#FP4#HC-110#Ilford#Isolette#Plustek#analog#black and white#film#folder#medium format#rangefinder#flickr
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Twilight Advent, Day 6
Masterpost/prompts
Dec. 6 - Which modern medical treatment is Carlisle especially thankful for?
"And Then Run"
(~1,000 words)
It was an incredible machine, he had to admit.
Medicine seemed to be changing faster than either of them could manage to keep up with these days. It had been over a decade since Edward had gone to medical school for the first time; mostly to get out of the now too-full house after the newness of his zany, tiny, prophetic sister and her taciturn husband had worn off.
He had learned there about cardiopulmonary bypass; had the experience of watching one safely from the gallery. Even if he had still been human, he could imagine that the rhythm of the metallic clacking of drum against metal would be a sound he would remember forever; alongside it the gentle whir of the fluid that was supposed to be the one thing he could never resist and yet which became simple to ignore as he engrossed himself in his own fascination with the way it spun around.
Edward had come to the hospital the way he often did, a question on his mind he didn't want anyone else in the family to overhear. Carlisle, who'd scented him from across the floor, had called him to his side. And so they were both standing here now, before this machine which was an order of magnitude more terrifying and more fascinating than any bypass Edward had ever seen before.
The boy—the paperwork on the end of the isolette said he was a boy—before them would've fit in Edward's palms. A balled up fist, too tiny to fit around Edward's thumb, rested near his head, immobilized so as not to interfere with the grotesque maze of tubes protruding from the tiny mouth and the cannulas beneath the skin next to a sternum which was mere inches long.
Carlisle, as one of the hospital's cardiothoracic attendings, had come here to take notes, but according to the memories at the tip of his thinking, he had been standing here for a good fifteen minutes. Watching. Thinking. About...something he wasn't quite willing to make clear. As his father danced the delicate dance of trying to think in a way that shut Edward out, the strain of that plus whatever he was thinking about was enough that he balled his fist.
"Carlisle? What's bothering you?"
The anger and frustration in his father's thoughts made little sense. The infant—born almost three days ago now, according to the tag—was improving hour over hour.
And then suddenly there was a sound Edward had heard only a few times in his life. The sharp intake of breath; a second, ragged inhalation through the nose. Carlisle's hand covering his mouth as his eyes squeezed closed against tears his body would never produce.
Yet somehow he was still managing to evade Edward's gift, the reason for this outburst just out of reach. Not knowing any other way to get the information he needed, Edward went for the hardest punch:
"Dad?"
A gulp and then Carlisle met his eyes. The extra thoughts—charting details, mostly—fell away as though they were a shattering pane of glass and at once, the core thought was clear. The diagnosis, at the top of the chart. The sadness of the family, the shock of their baby being wheeled away, but then this miracle machine, attached quickly but carefully, and suddenly numbers going in all the right directions: Sats, up. Heart rate, up. Capillary refill, almost normal.
He understood at once. Moving closer to his father, so that their hips were almost touching, Edward stared down again, hard, at the baby underneath the spaghetti mass of medical tubes.
Pulmonary hypoplasia, secondary to diaphragmatic hernia. The diagnosis Carlisle had made, decades later, piecing together details of a handwritten medical chart with what little his wife had told him. Congenital. A birth defect. Not anything she had done. Not what her husband had done to her. Just a fluke of nature, a bad spin of the roulette wheel that was forty-six haploid chromosomes slamming together.
"This machine would have saved him," Edward whispered, and his father nodded slowly.
And then he flashed in both their minds. Edward, who knew what the boy's father had looked like, imagining that man, but softened by the more gentle curves of his mother's face; her lighter hair; her smile. In Carlisle's mind, he had always looked very much like Esme, and sometimes, selfishly, a little bit like Carlisle, too. He was a young man, to both of them—broad shoulders, tall, strong.
"Sixty years," Carlisle finally said. "If she had been born just sixty years later...we could have...I could have..."
The fist had returned.
"But you wouldn't have her," Edward whispered.
For a moment, there was no answer, aloud or in thought, as Carlisle regarded the infant. The machine whirred and beeped, the artificial respirator thudded open, whooshed, and then closed again.
"No," his father said thoughtfully. And Edward could feel that pain; the aching, stretching sadness that rolled over the thoughts as a life was imagined: just the two of them, missing the caramel-haired woman with her smile, her laughter, and her love.
There was another gulp, and Carlisle took a step closer to the isolette, and placed a hand on the top of the baby's head. It startled, likely at the coolness of the touch, the tiny fists clenching and the arms seizing inward.
"But she would have him."
Then Carlisle removed his hand, stepped away, picked up the chart, and made a few notes before beckoning Edward back downstairs.
~||x||~
Historical note: Extracorporeal Membrane Oxygenation (ECMO), an extension of surgical cardiopulmonary bypass, was first used the 1970s on a non-surgical patient. While first used on adults, it quickly began to be used to buy the time neonates needed to recover from respiratory failure. By the mid 1980s, the survival rate for neonatal ECMO treatment of respiratory failure was between 70-90%.
Montage Masterpost
#montage#my fic#twilightadvent22#carlisle cullen#edward cullen#esme cullen#vampires at work#revised on 12/7#because late night me thinks semicolons and commas are decoration
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I Paesi industrializzati occidentali sembrano tutti piccoli Tolomeo intenti a disegnare una cartina geografica tutta dello stesso colore.. Dopo un anno che ci hanno propinato la medesima frase ogni giorno: "il mondo intero condanna la Russia per aver invaso l'Ucraina", scopriamo che questo "mondo intero" comprende un centinaio di nazioni, tra Paesi Nato e simpatizzanti e un miliardo di persone. Ieri, con un sol colpo, con la parte russa si sono schierate apertamente 3miliardi di persone, i cinesi (per ora). Se prendiamo per buono l' "intero mondo" narrato dai Tolemaici occidentali, sparirebbe d'un colpo tutta l'Asia lasciando poche isolette, tipo Giappone, Taiwan, e Corea del Sud. Sparirebbe il sud america e l'Africa sarebbe una groviera con piu'buchi che formaggio. Il fatto e' che il mondo e' maledettamente complicato e scherzare col fuoco non e' mai una idea brillante. @ilpianistasultetto
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back in the iso-, back in the iso-, back in the isolette
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Benidorm beach January 2017
#urban photography#original photography on tumblr#6x6format#kodak portra 160#down to the sea benidorm spain#agfa#agfa isolette#medium format#natural light#photographers of tumblr
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Ultima tragedia in mare :
Non capisco una cosa, durante il viaggio sono passati tra isole, isolette e altro ma NESSUNO li ha visti... poi, quando sono arrivati in Italia ed è successo il disastro, si accusano gli italiani nel ritardo con i soccorsi ?
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My therapist and I figured out I associate Beau's crate with the nibling's NICU isolette VERY strongly. Which explains the horrific anxiety about him dying suddenly at night but also like. I did not realize how much having a medically fragile nibling at 15 traumatized me. I prepared to be tired and overwhelmed and immersed in chaos. I did not prepare to be in constant fight or flight because the last time someone handed me an infant I was a child and told it might die if I don't pay close attention. I can't stop hearing the bradycardia alarm. I hadn't considered putting "parentification" down on the list on shit to work through but. I guess when you're enough of the baby of the family, shit loops back around on you.
#right now I am very grateful we decided to hold off on a baby until I can qualify for FMLA for my entire pregnancy#and get a puppy instead#because I don't know what I'd be doing if I had to rip this wound wide open with a human infant
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My second attempt to become a support nurse appears to have been successful.
I just did my interview Tuesday night… in one of my patient’s rooms. They are in a box (isolette), it didn’t bother them.
I haven’t been told officially, but my schedule got changed and I’ve got two orientation shifts in August.
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