alone

Nikola Tesla (1856–1943) After he had started his own company, Tesla arrived at the office at noon. Immediately, his secretary would draw the blinds; Tesla worked best in the dark and would raise the blinds again only in the event of a lightning storm, which he liked to watch flashing above the cityscape from his black mohair sofa. Tesla ate alone, and phoned in his instructions for the meal in advance. Upon arriving, he was shown to his regular table, where eighteen clean linen napkins would be stacked at his place. As he waited for his meal, he would polish the already gleaming silver and crystal with these squares of linen, gradually amassing a heap of discarded napkins on the table. And when his dishes arrived—served to him not by a waiter but by the maître d’hôtel himself—Tesla would mentally calculate their cubic contents before eating, a strange compulsion he had developed in his childhood and without which he could never enjoy his food. - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Of all things, I liked books best.” ― Nikola Tesla “One must be sane to think clearly, but one can think deeply and be quite insane.” ― Nikola Tesla #dailyrituals #inktober #NikolaTesla @masoncurrey

So after seeing some pictures of his human pictures I wanted to make something. This is based off the YouTube video link below. This guy made Alastors radio show and its KA! You should go check it out, I like to listen to it when I'm alone at the office, or when I study or whenever really. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ns18ZVI-ObQ

Jane Austen (1775–1817) Austen never lived alone and had little expectation of solitude in her daily life. Her final home, a cottage in the village of Chawton, England, was no exception: she lived there with her mother, her sister, a close friend, and three servants, and there was a steady stream of visitors, often unannounced. ... Austen wrote in the family sitting room, “subject to all kinds of casual interruptions,” her nephew recalled. She was careful that her occupation should not be suspected by servants, or visitors, or any persons beyond her own family party. She wrote upon small sheets of paper which could easily be put away, or covered with a piece of blotting paper. There was, between the front door and the offices, a swing door which creaked when it was opened; but she objected to having this little inconvenience remedied, because it gave her notice when anyone was coming. “Composition seems to me impossible with a head full of joints of mutton & doses of rhubarb.” From Daily rituals by Mason Currey #dailyrituals #inktober #janeAusten @masoncurrey

for the 31st and last day of Maymaginations, today it's time to sleep For this day I decided to draw the adorable, very sleepy blue koala from bt21 known as koya but you are not alone since he has a curious special guest next to him, thank you all for enjoying these drawings I hope you liked it

Just working on my figure drawing skills. I wanted to draw a girl sitting down, but I didn't want her to be alone, soo...that's where the bird comes in! :)

Personality and Birthday quizzes helped me out a lot to define his characteristics I wasn't able to flesh out alone. I messed with other brushes and several YouTube tutorials to redo this concept. This isn't the final form he takes, but he looks like this at the story's start.

Being comfortable alone is a skill that many people lack.

Luminary Festival - Auren Farkis (Digital Portrait I did as a colour study) Crisp reverberating strings danced through the evening. Notes twisted and echoed up through the emerald, velvet tiers of Ridgedow Gardens. Dusk’s veil had long since darkened to a diamond-encrusted black, and Clarglow was alive with activity. Footpaths were choked with revellers that formed a river of light that coursed and pulsed through the park. Will-o-whisp spots of light also glowed among the neatly trimmed hedgerows and statues. Their magic-addled voices rose up, joining in with the music of the Luminary Festival. A young man, no more than a quarter of a century old, glowed brightest of all. A soft orange radiated from his eyes, and his veins pulsed a brilliant red. He was dripping in gold and gems. Over an outfit that somehow managed to be heavily layered and revealing at the same time, he wore a sheer cape, which was heavily embroidered with blood-red crystals that refracted his own light around him in dazzling, concentrated rays. It was such a dangerous colour of magic, but his expression was soft and dreamy. Excited laughter rose up as a clustered group shot metallic confetti skyward. Gold flake drifted down and settled into his silver hair, cheeks, and shoulders. No doubt he would discover the remnants of this festival in his home weeks from now. He increased his pace, stepping off the cobbled path to overtake the group, when one of their number split from the group. The coils of her dark hair were so saturated with gold that she looked like she belonged on a pedestal next to the other statues. She intercepted him, matching his pace. She snaked a long, slender arm around his waist and pulled him closer. She pressed her lips against his neck, leaving a wake of golden kisses up to his earlobe, where she leaned closer to whisper. — “Aurie, Luv, I know that look. Don’t tell me you’re headed home. The eve has only just begun. “ Her glowing eyes Locked with Auren’s, her grip tightening, slowing the both of them to a stop, causing a temporary blockage in the flow of people. “Overdid myself Mel.. you’ll have to –” –” Come with us to the reflecting pool.” She cooed, meeting his lips in an off-center kiss, smearing his inky wine lipstick. Momentarily, he allowed himself to relax. He considered saying yes. His heart pounding, he dipped his friend backwards gracefully, resenting that he had to leave. An itch in his left arm reminded his fuzzy brain that he was in danger. Gasping softly, he gently lifted Mella upright and spun her out towards her friends, who were growing impatient. He couldn’t make out their faces in the fuzz of the evening. “I can’t, I’m sorry Mel! We’ll talk later.” Before she could protest, he danced, spinning forward in a brilliant display of speed that ended in a stumble as he met a set of steep steps that coiled sharply upwards out of the park and onto the pink brick streets overlooking Ridgedow Gardens. The glazed windows facing the street were empty and blank… their occupants elsewhere, enjoying the festival. The empty buildings were like faces, judging him for his lack of zeal. Auren wound his way through streets and side streets, his pace increasing as he grew more and more alone. Finally, he was climbing a set of steps to his own front door. Smirking at the sight of it he reached down into the front of the bodice that held together the layers of his outfit pulling free a loop of keys that were on a long chain looped around his neck. Aligning it to the keyhole he struggled with the lock, cursing softly under his breath as it initially failed to cooperate with him. In the quiet black of his foyer, he latched the door behind him and stumbled forward, tearing at the ribbon that held the gleaming cape that draped from his bare shoulders. He let it drop on a black lacquered table. He reached up to unclasp an elaborate choker and tore his single, crimson glove down from his elbow. He pressed a gilded fingernail against a band of red ink encroached upon by a spreading corruption. Marginally extending beyond the band were sinews of mismatched muscle and skin; even his hair had begun to glow red. Pulse rising, he wrenched his rings from his fingers, casting them into the ever-darkening room. Precious jewellery piled under him until only the dimmest glow from his own veins remained.. Slumping onto the steps, he tightened his grip on his arm and twisted it ninety degrees. A sharp click of crystal against porcelain met his ears. The room was enveloped in black as his final stone slid away from his arm, rendering the prosthesis inert. He slid to his side, the sounds of the party below overtaken by his own gasping breaths, panic refusing to subside alongside his magic.

We take things in and digest them before regurgitating them or expelling them again through our being. This is true of many aspects of our reality, not just of caloric intake. We take things in through the senses, through the person. We digest with our intellect and with our perception. Then we are able to share that back out through the senses, through our behaviours, and through our being. Food builds our body even as our experiences build our character. The real mark of a mature human being is developing deeper levels of discretion and recognizing more intimate forms of subtlety. Not everyone likes grapes, but to condemn grapes as evil is not prosperous to our species. Some like cherries, but not all enjoy their flavour. Grapes and cherries are still nutritious even though some have allergies to them. And not all cherries and grapes are ripe and nutritious at all times in all places. We must carry this knowledge into the development of our judgement. If it is important and worth while to discuss food and material nutrition, then it is much more essential that we evolve a greater sense of discretion for experience and for the holistic palette of our physical, emotional, intellectual, social, and spiritual tongues. We do that through consumption and digestion. But be aware that a human being can not live on grapes and cherries alone. We should also do our best to not condemn the taste buds or stomachs of ourselves or others. Namaste.

Original painting created by HEL MORT®, Mixed Media on Aluminium.

Original painting created by HEL MORT®, Mixed Media on Aluminium.

Just in their moments, no unsolicited opinions please. Thank you.

One day, in the afternoon she was sitting on that seat with a thin heart. She was feeling watercolor with full brightness hitting her soul slowly. In her heart said, "what was I do? Everything is very simple, just follow the truth about my life. But, I can't do it and back anymore". If you like my art, you can check and follow me on Instagram: @misahiraysa or buy my artwork printed on : https://www.redbubble.com/i/art-board-print/The-hopeless-woman-by-misahiraysa/118536377.TR477

I’m sat in my room alone; thinking, reflecting and planning. If you wish to stick around, stay tuned and I’ll show you how deep this rabbit hole goes.

Digital drawing, done in Procreate on iPad Pro.

You are not alone.

Was working on expanding the character design of my steampunk vampire Lumin Vasile. I'm finally working my way up to writing a script for a webcomic featuring him. I'll need to do a few more outfits for him but I think I have a better sense of his style from this outfit alone.

Pencil Drawing

A drawing based on one of my favorite music albums of all time.

It's crazy to think that 6 years have already flown by since I first moved onto the Xcel gymnastics team, let alone the fact that I've spent 15 years of my life as a gymnast. Tomorrow, August 6th, 2021, marks my last day as a gymnast on the team since I'm officially a college student. I've genuinely been dreading this day, but it's not the ending I expected...in an oddly good way. I know no one expected to spend the past year in a pandemic, and I definitely didn't think gym would shift so much in the following months, but here we are. Gymnastics has taught me more than I ever imagined it could, and my coaches (especially one of them) have become two of the people I'm closest with, words can't describe how grateful I am for everything. This 'ending' doesn't feel like an end, more so a closing to this chapter. Honestly, my love for the sport has only grown, and it feels like I'm finally figuring it all out. So, although my final practice as a team member is tomorrow, my journey is not over yet. "Goodbyes are the hardest part, and this ending has been something I’ve been dreading, although I know it’s time to let go. I’d like to say this isn’t a permanent goodbye to you or the sport, it’s more of a natural conclusion. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you’ve done for me and managed to teach me in this short amount of time, I couldn’t have asked for anyone, or anything, better. Thank you most of all for helping me achieve my dreams and for helping me get to a point in which I can say I’m proud of my journey. All that’s left to say is I care about you, I love you, and take care."

Acrylic on wood 36x19 Laugh and the world laughs with you, Weep, and you weep alone; The good old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own. (Ella Wheeler Wilcox)

Aloneness and loneliness expressed via doodles

Pencil Drawing

So doodling is truly an obsession w me. I always try to draw w-out thot & w unabandoned freedom... so trying to draw something that doesn't exist or creating odd critter scenarios is the goal yet my wit & craft always get in the way since after seeing things unfold that i can't help but to redefine & give them a definitive humorous caption. My sense of humor is constant. So here r a few things that revealed themselves to me... There's a bullet turtle [Ironic & similar to a bullet train] There's a piece of Indian corn bread which produces popcorn bread; In the back ground is a 'full' moon [Hence the burping & a Moon Wok. I like aesthetic things but my witty mind just won't leave enough alone!

When I was a child, whenever I was alone or lonely, I would fantasize about having super powers and being able to fly out into the universe and do anything. In my own world, I will always be the protagonist in my own story, guarding the lights of thousands of homes, world peace.

The plight of the maker is tears from a dropped stitch, the unrelenting mental gauntlet that is bobbin knots, the pain of fingertips burned smooth from the lava-like ooze that hold our creations together. Makers! Know this. You are not alone.

She have always anything which is it bad. "English as She is Spoke" is a delightful example of incompetence and bad judgement. Jose da Fonseca and Pedro Carolina set out to write a Portuguese-English phrasebook. The only problem was that they didn't speak any English. They did know some French and armed with French-English phrasebook, dictionaries and enthusiasm they brought forth this book. Mark Twain was an early admirer of this book. "Nobody can add to the absurdity of this book, nobody can imitate it successfully, nobody can hope to produce its fellow; it is perfect, it must and will stand alone: its immortality is secure." https://www.instagram.com/p/CJBWDgHhGSY/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link