The Lost Town of Dunwich - Suffolk, Enland

Once a prosperous seaport with a population of 3000 the town was largely destroyed by storms in 1286 and 1347, then fell further victim to the eroding coastline. Today, almost the entire town has disappeared, leaving only the remains of a couple of buildings.

Ruins of Greyfriars’ Monastery are a striking part of the landscape, but most affecting is the palpable sense of absence to the village, and the realization that within another century, it may well disappear for good.

Explore further at atlasobscura.com

McNair Evans, from Confessions for a Son, which is being exhibited by Sasha Wolf Gallery, opening tonight.

I rarely visited home since Dad’s death. When I went home for an extended Christmas visit in 2008, I found the town heavily depressed economically. Like many small farming towns in the Southeast, downtown storefronts were empty and abandoned franchises circled the perimeter. Buildings from my childhood were vanishing and witnessing the town’s disappearance felt reflective of my own history.

I had been photographing commercial spaces left vacant in downtown San Francisco due to the 2008 economic crash. The pictures were intended to criticize franchise economics, but the humanity of these spaces overwhelmed my aspirations. Their emptiness resonated with previously unaddressed emotions caused by my father’s unexpected death, insolvency, and consequent family struggles. These vacated offices became visual metaphors for my own isolation and loss.

In October 2009 a call from my sister brought the project into focus. She had found our Dad when he died, and the trauma of that experience had grown troubling. At that point I recognized my work was not only reflecting the subconscious emotional realities of my life, but also was indicative of a broader emotional landscape affecting my entire family. Needing to justify the father I admired with the lasting impacts of his death and business insolvency, I returned home to photograph his life and legacy.

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Colombia's Only Forensic Geologist Searches for His Country's Disappeared People

“I have had four relatives go missing since nineteen ninety-six,” Jacqueline Orrego, 46, from Antioquia, Colombia, told me. Buried without mourning, markers, or prayers, her mother, stepfather, sister, cousin, and friend all disappeared, presumably killed by the Northwestern Bloc of the FARC paramilitary. The corpses of her mother, stepfather, and sister were discovered in August 2007, on the expansive grounds of a rural farm belonging to Guillermo Gaviria, father of the current mayor of Medellín, Aníbal Gaviria. Orrego is still hoping to find the bodies of the others.

“You always have this anxiety, the hope that they will be found alive, even though everybody tells you they are dead. You’re in agony wondering where they are, and whether they are lost forever. Then, when you find the bodies, you rest,” said Orrego, whose family had been accused by FARC of being guerrilla fighters. She maintains their innocence.


trulywicked  asked:

For the Buffywolf thing, how about S1 Ep7 Angel?

From the second he sweeps into their lives, shouting for Scott and Stiles to run while he faces down the inhuman creature barreling toward them (a werewolf, Stiles learns later, an alpha werewolf), Stiles knows he’s in trouble.

And then he keeps on showing up, warning Stiles off when he starts sticking his nose too close to trouble (“it’s like you have a death wish, kid. Just leave it alone” …As though that’s even an option now that Stiles knows there are freaking werewolves out there), and reluctantly dropping all kinds of incredible supernatural knowledge once Stiles makes it clear he’s not going to just let this go.

It’s not like Stiles doesn’t know who tall, dark, and leather-clad is, either, and if anything that only fuels his interest. Derek Hale, who had disappeared from town with his sister six years back, after most of his family had died in a house fire. An accident, his dad’s final reports had declared, but Stiles finds himself re-evaluating that idea pretty fast now.

“So what,” he says one night, while they stroll together along the edge of the preserve. Well, Stiles likes to think of it as a stroll. Derek seems to think he’s just escorting Stiles back to his Jeep before he becomes alpha fodder, but they can agree to disagree for now. “Were your family some kind of werewolf hunters or something?”

Derek grits his teeth, eyes skating away.

And Stiles gets that, he doesn’t like people surprise-bringing up his mom, either. But this is kind of huge, and he can’t just let it go without trying.

“I just mean… you know a lot about this. I was wondering if it was some kind of Supernatural thing going on, you know? Like, werewolves burnt your house down or something like that?”

Derek’s breath hisses out. He looks away.

“Something like that.”

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In my memory, it doesn’t end, we just stay here looking at each other forever.
—  John Green

The Snail Telegraph,

In the mid 19th century a French occultist named Jacques Toussaint Benoit theorized that if a pair of snails touched, they would form a special telepathic link that could not be severed by distance.  To cash in on his theory, he built a machine called the “pasilalinic-sympathetic compass”, also known as the snail telegraph.  The machine consisted of a box with 24 small cages each holding a snail which corresponded with a certain letter of the alphabet.  A corresponding device held another 24 snails which were supposedly linked with the snails of the first device.  When the operator touch a snail, the snail of the corresponding letter on the other device would supposedly react by wiggling.

Benoit demonstrated a working device to a journalist with the French newspapaer La Presse and his financial backer, a man named Monsieur Trait . The journalist was convinced that the snail telegraph worked, but Triat was much more skeptical, and demanded a stricter test done under scientific conditions.  Benoit agreed, but skipped out of town and disappeared before the second test could be conducted.