Website review: Thinsite - st. agatha sunset
Someone discovered this in Photography
•10 reviews since Nov 26, 2006
photography, photo
•thinsite.net/photoblog/index.php
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Reviews of this website
dumbbum rated 7 months ago- sunsets like this in canada? It nice to live here!
- johnny-moniker rated 7 months ago
- Amazing, a time and place worth being buried in.
- Jascar rated 8 months ago
- That is gogeis
- EddieStarr rated 10 months ago
- This is very very very nice :)
- jediliska rated 11 months ago
- I love how the trees are lined up.
- pinoyski rated 14 months ago
- Now i wanna take my camera and start shooting... very nice photo
- Benway68 rated 18 months ago
- Very impressive high dynamic range photo
- TyrannosaurusRex rated 19 months ago
- Great shot! It is so hard to break out of the clutter of cookie-cutter great photography vying for our attention, but this one does it in style. What's this vienerschnitzel from halpin? Somehow, I think you'll survive. lol
- halpin rated 19 months ago
- Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance." The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky. She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes? I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her. To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass. What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me. That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her. As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me. The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer. I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear. Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes. I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long. Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her. Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her. Pablo Neruda
