@foldedsunset.bsky.social
190 followers 260 following 690 posts
British in NYC. Longtime in Brooklyn, now in Queens. Arts, housing, green spaces, maps, buses & subways, stuff on the street.
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foldedsunset.bsky.social
“When you had twelve boxes of kippers on your head, you knew you’d got it on,” quipped Billy, displaying his “brand new” hat, made only in the nineteen thirties.”

@thegentleauthor.bsky.social

spitalfieldslife.com/2025/10/06/t...
The Harvest Festival Of The Sea | Spitalfields Life
spitalfieldslife.com
Reposted
evgrieve.bsky.social
The randomness of a trombone serenade while on an early morning walk in the East Village.
A trombone player seen on an east village street corner, playing to passersby early in the morning.
Reposted
newseye.bsky.social
NEW: Extraordinary scenes in Amsterdam this afternoon (Sunday, Oct 5).

An estimated 250,000 bring the city to a standstill; people all wearing red to show solidarity with Palestine 🇵🇸

(🎥 Ahmed Zantac)
Reposted
Brian Harris took wonderful pictures for the Independent and others. I am sad to hear he is gone, and so happy I knew him and the other photographers of the Independent for a while. This is from Prague in 1989. I wasn’t there; Brian made me wish I had been and feel that maybe I was. lnkd.in/eqgeDpay
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rabihalameddine.bsky.social
Harold Edgerton, Cows and Flare at Stonehenge, 1944
Reposted
tomasjmurray.bsky.social
Today is Brian O’Nolan’s (aka Flann O’Brien, Myles na gCopaleen et al) birthday.
With John Ryan, Anthony Cronin, Patrick Kavanagh & Tom Joyce (Bloomsday, Sandymount, 1954)
foldedsunset.bsky.social
Late afternoon. More yellows than reds.
foldedsunset.bsky.social
“In other words, Ms Levin is cut like a diamond in the rough, along the finest in the business. Her disc, Blackbird & Ancestors [Aldilá Records] is further proof of this fact. Listening to it over and over again is like dancing with genius.”

❤️
foldedsunset.bsky.social
“It is a sort of family, a very strange family. Most of my staff have been with me a very long time and we are very close. Eighty per cent of my customers are regulars and we are all close to each other. We help each other through everything. To be honest, I do not know what I would do without it.”
foldedsunset.bsky.social
“On the road to the French house, Lesley performed with a python in cabaret before graduating to managing a strip club in Old Compton St in 1979, where admission cost 50p and senior customers brought sandwiches to stay all day.”

@thegentleauthor.bsky.social

spitalfieldslife.com/2025/10/04/l...
foldedsunset.bsky.social
Oatcakes are very hard to find here, & insanely overpriced. So I order in bulk direct from Walker’s. I suppose the tariffs will kick the price up tho’.

But I really miss Lancashire cheese.
foldedsunset.bsky.social
10 turkeys in the field. Never before have they seemed such a wholesome distraction.
foldedsunset.bsky.social
Now I’m in Queens, I have to give a shout out to the International C-Town on 34th Ave. Not a big supermarket, but quite comprehensive & yes, some specialties. It’s really well run and the staff are great. Only wish it was closer to home.
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hyperallergic.com
A new exhibition at the Mystic Seaport Museum reveals the oft-ignored ancestral knowledge and innovation that flow from Black and Indigenous communities’ sacred relationship to seafaring and artmaking.
The Sacred Waterways of Black and Indigenous Communities
An exhibition at the Mystic Seaport Museum takes visitors on a journey through centuries of interrelated traditions of seafaring and artmaking, revealing oft-ignored histories.
hyperallergic.com
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felicityhannah.bsky.social
This article manages to name her husband before it names… her.
Article reads:
Woman named as Archbishop of Canterbury in historic first 

The 63-year-old archbishop-designate is married to Eamonn Mullally, with whom she has two children. Originally from Woking in Surrey, she was the UK's chief nursing officer from 1999 to 2004.
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wwfscotland.bsky.social
Just a few days until October’s full moon! This year it falls on the 7th & is sometimes called ‘Gealach a' Bhruic’ in Gaelic - the ‘Badger Moon’. Folklore says under the moonlight, badgers would gather grass, getting their setts ready for winter. 🌕

#DailyDoseOfNature #WildlifePhotography #Nature
A badger photographed in Scotland, on it's hind legs leaning against a tree and sniffing the bark. Framing the badger is a warm, golden glow and out of focus leaves.
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davidatkinsonpoet.bsky.social
After listening to Jay Bernard sing ‘Songbook’ every time I read it now I sing it too.
At 6:12 on the link below, but you really should listen to it all – they will give you goosebumps

#NationalPoetryDay
#poetry
#poemoftheday
#13deadnothingsaid
#NewCrossMassacre
youtu.be/_ANbixVTnU4?...
Jay Bernard reads from 'Surge'
YouTube video by T. S. Eliot Prize
youtu.be
foldedsunset.bsky.social
Have been spending time with a solitary ring-necked pheasant. What a splendid bird it is. It’s stayed in the same patch of brush for a week at least, and it tolerates my presence as long as I’m not too close. Yesterday, a bit of excitement as an otter dashed by, heading straight for the pond.
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asls.org.uk
We Apologise for the Unintended Relevance of this Poem
asls.org.uk
For want o luve we live on hate,
For want o Heven praise the State,
For want o richts we worship rules,
For want o gods the glibbest fules…

—Sydney Goodsir Smith, “Prolegomenon: The Deevil’s Waltz”
in A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS
#Scots #poem #poetry #Scotstober #richts
asls.org.uk/publications...
Sydney Goodsir Smith
Prolegomenon
The Deevil’s Waltz

Rin an rout, rin an rout,
Mahoun gars us birl about,
He skirls his pipes, he stamps his heel
The globe’s gane gyte in a haliket reel.

There, the statesman’s silken cheats,
Here, the bairnless mither greits,
There, a tyrant turns the screw,
Here, twa luvers’ broken vows.

Enemies out, enemies in,
Truth a hure wi the pox gane blinn,
Nou luvers’ lips deny luve’s name
An get for breid a chuckie-stane,

We kenna hert, we kenna heid,
The deevil’s thirled baith quick an deid,
Jehovah snores, and Christ himsel
Lowps in the airms o Jezebel. The sweit that rins frae his thorned brou
Is black as the staunan teats o his cou
In the waltz o tears, an daith, an lies,
Juliet’s fyled wi harlotries.

O luve itsel at Hornie’s lauch
Skeers lik a caunel i the draucht,
The dance is on, the waltz o hell,
The wund frae its fleean skirts is snell.

It whups black storm frae lochan’s calm,
Sets banshees in the house o dwaum,
Gars black bluid spate the hert o me
—An watters guid-sirs’ barley bree!

A few damned feckless fanatics
Wad halt the borneheid dance o Styx,
Their cry o truth the whirlwind reaps,
For pity’s deid, and mercy sleeps.

Orpheus alane dow sauve frae deid
His ravished Bride gin but she’d heed—
Ay, truth an luve like Albyn’s life
Hing wi a threid, kissed be a knife.

Ilk derkenin owre some huddered toun
The pipes an fiddles screich an boom,
The cauldron’s steered by Maestro Nick
Wi a sanct’s shin-bane for parritch-stick.

He lauchs his lauch, the angels greit
Wi joy as they dine on carrion meat;
Ablow, bumbazed, dumfounered cods,
We seek the starns in dubs an bogs.

Oor ingyne’s deaved, oor mous are shut,
Oor saul contract like a runkled nut,
Een cannae see the trees for the wuid
An hert is cauld for want o bluid. For want o luve we live on hate,
For want o Heven praise the State,
For want o richts we worship rules,
For want o gods the glibbest fules.

Obey, Obey; ye maunna spier!
(Libertie’s disjaskit lear!)
While Cloutie pipes it’s crime tae think,
—It’s taxed e’en higher nor the drink!

O, rin an rout, we birl about,
Tae the rhythm o the Deil’s jack-boot,
Black as auld widdie-fruit, Mahoun
Bestrides a kenless mappamound.