Anthony's Literary Lens

Tag: black

  • Orange Against Oblivion

    Orange Against Oblivion

    No path, yet I walk.
    The field swallows my footsteps—unclaimed by the past.

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    Selfie Camera for WordPress .selfie-camera-container { max-width: 600px; margin: 40px auto; padding: 25px; background: #f8f9fa; border-radius: 15px; box-shadow: 0 10px 30px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1); text-align: center; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, “Segoe UI”, Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, “Helvetica Neue”, sans-serif; border: 1px solid #e0e0e0; } .camera-header { margin-bottom: 25px; } .camera-header h2 { color: #2c3e50; margin-bottom: 10px; font-size: 28px; } .camera-header p { color: #7f8c8d; font-size: 16px; margin-top: 5px; } .camera-feed-wrapper { position: relative; border-radius: 10px; overflow: hidden; background: #000; margin-bottom: 20px; box-shadow: 0 5px 15px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2); } #selfie-video { width: 100%; height: auto; display: block; transform: scaleX(-1); /* Mirror effect */ } .camera-controls { display: flex; justify-content: center; gap: 15px; margin: 20px 0; } .camera-button { padding: 12px 30px; border: none; border-radius: 30px; font-size: 16px; font-weight: 600; cursor: pointer; transition: all 0.3s ease; display: flex; align-items: center; justify-content: center; gap: 8px; } .camera-button i { font-size: 20px; } #capture-btn { background: #3498db; color: white; box-shadow: 0 4px 0 #2980b9; } #capture-btn:hover { background: #2980b9; transform: translateY(2px); box-shadow: 0 2px 0 #2980b9; } #retry-btn { background: #e74c3c; color: white; box-shadow: 0 4px 0 #c0392b; display: none; } #retry-btn:hover { background: #c0392b; transform: translateY(2px); box-shadow: 0 2px 0 #c0392b; } #result-container { display: none; margin: 25px 0; animation: fadeIn 0.5s ease; } #captured-selfie { max-width: 100%; border-radius: 10px; border: 3px solid white; box-shadow: 0 5px 15px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.1); } .download-section { margin-top: 20px; display: flex; flex-direction: column; align-items: center; } #download-btn { padding: 12px 30px; background: #2ecc71; color: white; text-decoration: none; border-radius: 30px; font-weight: 600; display: inline-flex; align-items: center; gap: 8px; transition: all 0.3s ease; box-shadow: 0 4px 0 #27ae60; } #download-btn:hover { background: #27ae60; transform: translateY(2px); box-shadow: 0 2px 0 #27ae60; } .permission-msg { background: #fef9c3; border-left: 4px solid #f59e0b; padding: 15px; border-radius: 4px; margin: 20px 0; text-align: left; display: none; } .privacy-note { margin-top: 25px; padding: 15px; background: #f1f2f6; border-radius: 8px; font-size: 14px; color: #7f8c8d; } @keyframes fadeIn { from { opacity: 0; transform: translateY(10px); } to { opacity: 1; transform: translateY(0); } } .camera-icon { font-size: 24px; margin-bottom: 15px; } .loading { padding: 40px 0; color: #7f8c8d; } .loading-spinner { border: 4px solid #f3f3f3; border-top: 4px solid #3498db; border-radius: 50%; width: 40px; height: 40px; animation: spin 1s linear infinite; margin: 0 auto 15px; } @keyframes spin { 0% { transform: rotate(0deg); } 100% { transform: rotate(360deg); } } @media (max-width: 600px) { .selfie-camera-container { margin: 20px 10px; padding: 20px 15px; } .camera-header h2 { font-size: 24px; } .camera-button { padding: 10px 20px; font-size: 14px; } }
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    document.addEventListener(‘DOMContentLoaded’, function() { // Get elements const video = document.getElementById(‘selfie-video’); const canvas = document.getElementById(‘selfie-canvas’); const captureBtn = document.getElementById(‘capture-btn’); const retryBtn = document.getElementById(‘retry-btn’); const resultContainer = document.getElementById(‘result-container’); const capturedImage = document.getElementById(‘captured-selfie’); const downloadLink = document.getElementById(‘download-btn’); const permissionMsg = document.getElementById(‘permission-msg’); const loading = document.getElementById(‘loading’); // Check for camera support if (!navigator.mediaDevices || !navigator.mediaDevices.getUserMedia) { loading.innerHTML = ‘

    Camera not supported in your browser. Please try Chrome, Firefox, or Edge.

    ‘; captureBtn.disabled = true; return; } // Get camera access navigator.mediaDevices.getUserMedia({ video: { facingMode: ‘user’, width: { ideal: 1280 }, height: { ideal: 720 } }, audio: false }) .then((stream) => { video.srcObject = stream; loading.style.display = ‘none’; video.style.display = ‘block’; }) .catch((err) => { console.error(‘Camera error:’, err); loading.innerHTML = ‘

    Could not access camera. Please check permissions.

    ‘; permissionMsg.style.display = ‘block’; captureBtn.disabled = true; }); // Capture button handler captureBtn.addEventListener(‘click’, () => { canvas.width = video.videoWidth; canvas.height = video.videoHeight; const ctx = canvas.getContext(‘2d’); // Mirror the image for natural selfie view ctx.translate(canvas.width, 0); ctx.scale(-1, 1); ctx.drawImage(video, 0, 0, canvas.width, canvas.height); ctx.setTransform(1, 0, 0, 1, 0, 0); // Get image data const imageData = canvas.toDataURL(‘image/png’); capturedImage.src = imageData; downloadLink.href = imageData; downloadLink.download = ‘my-selfie-‘ + Date.now() + ‘.png’; // Show results resultContainer.style.display = ‘block’; captureBtn.style.display = ‘none’; retryBtn.style.display = ‘inline-flex’; }); // Retry button handler retryBtn.addEventListener(‘click’, () => { resultContainer.style.display = ‘none’; captureBtn.style.display = ‘inline-flex’; retryBtn.style.display = ‘none’; }); });

    In the distance, beneath a sky so dark it seemed to swallow thought itself, stood the lone structure — a barn, perhaps, or some forgotten monument to a purpose no longer remembered. It was painted in an orange hue so violently alive that it seemed not to belong in the world at all. It was as if it had been dropped there by mistake — by a careless god or an exhausted architect of realities.

    The field stretched endlessly, yellow and unyielding, like a dream that refuses to end. You could walk toward that building forever and never arrive, each step echoing the quiet futility of your journey. And yet, something in its starkness beckoned, the way a memory calls without context — not with clarity, but with gravity.

    You might say the barn was waiting to be judged, silent and complicit, holding secrets behind its small black door. Perhaps the occupant inside was neither farmer nor fugitive, but a bureaucrat of dreams, tirelessly cataloguing every lost thought you’ve ever had, every version of yourself that you abandoned in moments of doubt.

    Or, on the other hand, you could insist that inside there is a jazz record playing in an empty room. A cat stares at the wall. The air smells faintly of tangerines. And somewhere beneath the floorboards, time folds inward like origami, repeating the same quiet collapse over and over again.

    In this image, the world does not end. It simply pauses — just long enough for you to realize it has always been quietly impossible.

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  • Capturing The Contrast

    Capturing The Contrast

    Black and white horse
    Who me?

    You know, sometimes a photo just grabs you and won’t let go. That’s what happened with this shot of my white horse against the dark background. I’ve taken thousands of horse photos – trust me, my phone’s storage is crying about it – but there’s something about this one that feels different. It’s like catching magic in a moment, if magic wore a mane and had a tendency to sneeze on your camera lens.

    I decided to go with black and white for this one, and I’ll tell you why. There’s this gorgeous tension between light and shadow that color sometimes masks – like when you’re wearing a really great outfit but your statement necklace is stealing all the attention. In black and white, you can really see how my horse’s coat practically glows against that velvet-dark background. It’s not just white; it’s this luminous, ethereal kind of white that makes you wonder if maybe, just maybe, unicorns aren’t such a far-fetched idea after all.

    And can we talk about that little bit of foliage peeking in? It’s doing the heavy lifting of keeping this photo grounded in reality, like that one sensible friend who reminds you that no, you probably shouldn’t get bangs at 2 AM. Without it, the horse might look like it’s floating in space – which, cool concept, but not what I was going for here.

    The contrast between black and white creates this almost theatrical backdrop, like nature decided to set up its own spotlight. My horse didn’t get the memo about being dramatic though – they’re just standing there, being their authentic self, probably thinking about their next snack. But that’s what makes it work, right? That completely unposed, natural moment caught in this stark, artistic frame.

    I’ve noticed that some of my favorite photos are the ones that make you lean in a little closer, the ones that play with the line between simplicity and drama. This shot does that for me. It’s like the photographic equivalent of a really good whisper – quiet but impossible to ignore. And while I’d love to say I planned every element of this composition, sometimes the best photos are the ones where you’re just lucky enough to be there with your camera when the light, the moment, and yes, even the cooperative positioning of a horse, all decide to play nice together.

    And yes, before you ask, I absolutely have this printed and hanging on my wall. Because some photos just deserve to graduate from the endless scroll of our camera rolls, don’t you think?

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  • Trapped in a red dream

    Trapped in a red dream

    In a world of red;
    Fragments of a dream undone,
    Nowhere leads to home.

    Red rose
    Whispers of Scarlet

    I’m… somewhere, though I can’t tell where. Black. Red. That’s all there is. Not a sound, not really, just the echo of my own footsteps… or are they even mine? It doesn’t matter. I blink and—there it is, again—the red rose. Again. Too perfect, too bright. It shouldn’t be here, but it is. Silky petals, so soft they must be fake, almost glowing, bleeding their colour into the air around them. No thorns. Why no thorns? A rose should have thorns. It feels wrong… out of place. Is it floating? I can’t tell. Maybe it’s me who’s floating. My hand stretches out to touch it—wait, no. That’s not right. Something shifts, jerks my focus.

    Red rose without thorns;
    Floating in the blackened air,
    Too soft to be real.

    Hawthorn red berries
    Nature’s Crimson Cascade

    Red berries. They dangle, sway just slightly, so red, like drops of blood frozen mid-fall. They don’t belong here. Hawthorn berries? Yeah, yeah that’s what they are. Why are they here? Hanging. Waiting. I want to pluck one, taste it maybe, but—no. Not safe. They look like they’d taste like iron. Bitterness. Do berries even taste like iron? I don’t know. I think… maybe they do. They shimmer in the dark, this glossy red, almost inviting. A trap. Gotta keep moving.

    Hawthorn berries hang;
    Blood drops frozen in the dark,
    Bitter in the night.

    Crimson red silk cloth
    Veil of Crimson Dreams

    Something brushes past me—smooth, too smooth. It’s red too. It’s silk. A cloth, red silk, draping down from… from where? Can’t see the top. It’s just there, like a curtain, but no stage, no audience. It shifts, barely. Touching it feels like slipping into a memory I can’t quite catch. I try to hold onto the thought, but it slips away, just like the cloth. It’s gone. It’s still here, but gone. Don’t ask me how. My fingers are empty now, though.

    Red silk softly falls;
    Whispers of a fading dream,
    Slips away from touch.

    Red maple leaf - acer
    Autumnal Ember

    The path, if it’s a path, dark, black, empty. Then… then there’s this leaf. A red maple leaf. Still, like it’s been pressed flat between the pages of a book I can’t read. But I see it. I see it clear. The veins in the leaf look like cracks, tiny, sharp cracks splitting through the red. Red. Of course, it’s red. That’s all there is. But why this leaf? Why now? It’s autumn, I think. Or maybe not. I forget. It’s too perfect, like the rose, but this one feels colder. Fragile. It’s waiting for something. For me? I don’t know.

    Maple leaf in red;
    Cracks spreading through quiet veins,
    Fragile autumn waits.

    I’m still walking, I think, though maybe I’m not…

    What kind of dream world would you like to visit?

    Hi, anyone still with me to the end, can you let me know if my feature image of the silk cloth appears at the top of the post. I think I’m having problems with it being displayed.

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  • Black Sands

    Black Sands

    Footsteps on black sand,
    Ancient echoes, silent winds—
    Soul finds home at last.

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    There is a peculiar, magnetic quality in the place where the skies, the sea, and the sands converge into an unbroken expanse of black. It is as if the very soul of the world has been submerged in ink, every contour and texture absorbing light and thought alike. It is a place of quietude and profound contemplation, where the usual clamours of the mind are stilled, and only the vast, black silence prevails.

    I was drawn to it, not by conscious volition but by an irresistible pull that defies explanation. The air itself seemed to whisper secrets of ancient sorrows and forgotten dreams, luring me with its quiet song. The skies overhead, a dense, velvet shroud, stretched infinitely, their darkness uninterrupted save for the occasional flicker of some distant, dying star. It was a night eternal, where the very notion of time seemed suspended, caught between one breath and the next.

    The sea, too, was black, an abyssal mirror reflecting the obsidian skies. Its waves whispered against the shore with a sound that was almost a sigh, a gentle, mournful music that spoke of depths uncharted and secrets untold. Each ripple was a caress, a touch from a world beyond the grasp of daylight. It beckoned with an enigmatic allure, promising revelations to those brave enough to listen.

    And then, the sand. The sand was the strangest of all—black as coal, yet soft beneath my feet. It gave way, a yielding embrace that seemed to draw me deeper with each step. Each grain was a universe unto itself, tiny fragments of an ancient, forgotten whole. It was as if the earth had opened its heart and revealed the darkness that lies within us all.

    I walked along the shore, feeling the pull of this place deepen with each moment. The world of light and color from which I had come seemed distant, an echo of a half-remembered dream. Here, in this place of black skies, black sea, and black sand, I felt a strange sense of belonging, as if I had found the true home of my soul. It was a realm of quiet introspection, where the external world faded, and the inner landscape came into sharp relief.

    The wind whispered through the darkness, carrying with it the scent of salt and mystery. I could feel the weight of the ages in the air, the presence of all who had come before, drawn by the same inexplicable force. They had walked these shores, their footsteps now lost to time, their voices absorbed by the all-encompassing silence. And yet, in some profound way, they were still here, their spirits intertwined with the fabric of this place.

    In the end, it was not the darkness that drew me, but the depth it revealed. For in that depth, I found a reflection of my own soul—a place where light and shadow dance in eternal balance, where the mysteries of existence lie just beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered. Here, in the black sands, I found a part of myself I had not known was lost, and in its discovery, I found a strange, unearthly peace.

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  • Secrets in the Obsidian Night

    Secrets in the Obsidian Night

    The dimly lit room was suffused with the sultry aura of forbidden secrets, where shadows and whispers danced together in a dark tango. The only source of light was a single table lamp, its feeble glow casting eerie silhouettes on this shabby place. It was in this twilight realm that I first laid eyes on it—a mesmerising image that seemed to hold the key to a thousand mysteries.

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    A piece of cloth, carefully draped across the chair, a piece of red satin against a backdrop of obsidian black. The fabric, a deep ruby red, was intensely alluring, like a siren’s song beckoning the lost souls of the night. Its surface shimmered with subtle undulations, as if it concealed a secret known only to those who dared to gaze upon it long enough. Like secrets of liquid passion that would run through your hands if you tried to embrace them. The black expanse around it was like the void of a starless night, an abyss where desires and secrets conspired.

    I couldn’t help but be drawn to it, my eyes fixated on the satin’s inviting folds. It held an allure that transcended mere fabric—it was desire incarnate, a symbol of passions. I knew that behind this innocent facade lay a world of intrigue, one I was compelled to uncover.

    In front of the chair was a scarred, mahogany desk, surrounded by an assortment of objects that spoke of the room’s absent occupant. An ashtray, filled with half-smoked cigarettes, a tumbler of bourbon, its contents long drained, hinted at a taste for the forbidden. A crumpled letter, bearing cryptic messages in smudged ink, told a story of intrigue and deceit.

    As I stood there, a gust of wind rattled the dusty windowpane, as if the night itself conspired to keep its secrets hidden. This ruby and obsidian gem, now my silent confidante, seemed to beckon me deeper into the shadows, daring me to uncover the mysteries it held.

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  • The Dreamy Beauty of the Bright Blue Iris

    The Dreamy Beauty of the Bright Blue Iris

    Vibrant Beauty
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    The bright blue iris reticulata is a truly dreamy plant. Its delicate, petite stature belies the bold and beautiful show it puts on in the garden. As the days begin to lengthen and the winter chill starts to recede, these little jewels begin to appear, signalling the start of spring.

    The bright blue flowers are a sight to behold, with their vibrant colour and delicate, circular petals. They seem to dance on their slender stems, catching the light and drawing the eye. And as the sun begins to set, the iris reticulata’s sweet, floral scent fills the air, adding to the plant’s dreamy allure.

    But it’s not just the iris reticulata’s beauty that makes it a plant worth dreaming about. It is also incredibly easy to grow and maintain. It thrives in well-drained soil and can tolerate a range of lighting conditions, from full sun to partial shade. It is hardy, making it a versatile plant that can be grown in a variety of climates.

    So if you want to add a touch of magic to your garden, consider planting a bright blue iris reticulata. Its dreamy flowers and easy-going nature will bring joy and beauty to your landscape for years to come.

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