mitsushiro-nakagawa has added a photograph to the pool:
Title.
A street near Central Park. ð
( LUMIX G3 shot )
Central Park, Manhattan, New York, USA. 2017. ⊠6 / 9
(As we speakâs picture. It is unpublished.)
Photographs:
The Beatles ⊠Throughout The Universe
youtu.be/eqUzU552X8A?si=LDd91wXz4ROBUYco
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My new novel
Bâ (B Flat)
Quantity 14 ð
The next continues to be in its draft stage and shall be revised additional.
Key elements arenât disclosed.
The order of the content material proven right here is combined.
(After all, this isnât the ultimate model.)
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My new novel
Bâ (B Flat)
Within the western reaches of Los Angeles, on the intersection of Wilshire Boulevard and Sepulveda, a seventeenâstory alabaster tower rose towards the sky. This was the headquarters of the FBIâs Los Angeles Discipline Workplace.
The afternoon gentle struck its white façade, casting again a chilly, austere magnificence. Earlier than it stretched a broad garden, a hush reigning there in stark distinction to the bustle of the town. On the entrance of the constructing, the names of the FBI and the Division of Veterans Affairs stood in daring aid, the burden of the nation inscribed in stone. Close by lay the Los Angeles Nationwide Cemetery, the place the reminiscences of the previous intertwined with the heartbeat of the current.
Only a few blocks away, in a lodge room, pressure had taken on one other type. The pale pink carpet caught the glare of fluorescent gentle, whereas past the window the never-ending stream of vehicles alongside Wilshire flowed like a stressed artery. The faint cry of sirens mingled with the townâs din, as if the collective pressure of Los Angeles had been seeping into this small room.
On the entrance, a makeshift stage bore the American flag and the FBI seal. Tripods stood in cautious rows, displays flashing between stay feeds and scrolling headlines.
Cameron R. Bartlett, Director of the FBI, squared his shoulders. With a short look on the papers in his hand, he drew in a quiet breath and let his eyes journey over the gathered press. Behind his composure lay a grave unease, and a resolve as unyielding as metal.
âThe incident is unfolding on a scale with out precedentââ His voice, low however unwavering, crammed the room. Immediately, the pictures on the displays tightened each chest, sharpening the taut wire of pressure. The journalists steadied their respiratory, fingers trembling faintly over notebooks and cameras because the dissonance grewâbetween the directorâs calm expression and the devastation flickering throughout the screens.
Some rushed to ship out bulletins; others adjusted their zoom lenses, struggling inwardly to form a way of the entire. From a nook got here the faint rustle of a web page turning, the smallest sounds amplified by silence. And nonetheless the tense hour dragged on, as if the looming FBI constructing itself watched over the press room in mute witness.
Every time the footage waveredâsmoke shifting, rubble parting to disclose a fleeting determineâthe reportersâ eyes snapped to the display screen. Pens scratched, shutters clicked, the faint patter of keys mingling with a silence taut sufficient to interrupt.
Bartlettâs gaze lingered on every journalist, conveying a weight past phrases. That quiet strain thickened the ambiance, the air stretched to a threadâs breaking level. From exterior got here the muted hum of visitors, a distant sirenâs wailâthe worldâs noise folding into the roomâs stillness, underscoring the magnitude of what was unfolding.
Ultimately, after answering questions in terse, measured replies, Bartlett concluded:
âThatâs all I can say presently.â
His curt phrases gave method to a brand new stir, rippling by way of the corridor. The trigger lay on the displays: one other feed had appeared, bearing the caption in pink, flashing within the nookâMadison Sq. Backyard, New York Metropolisâthe exact second the carnage had begun.
The reporters in Los Angeles felt their breath catch. Following these numbers, they appeared to the touch the heartbeat of one other metropolis throughout the continent. The pictures certain the 2 coasts collectively, weaving your complete nation into one mesh of suspense.
Then the display screen shifted to a special stageâNew Yorkâs press roomâthe place a person in a darkish swimsuit stood earlier than the glare of flashbulbs.
Jack Vance. As soon as a colleague of Marcusâs on the Bureau. In uncommon style, he had left the FBI beneath the Division of Justice to hitch the Secret Service beneath Homeland Safety. Years earlier, when Vance had headed the Violent Crimes Part, a hostage standoff erupted in Oakbridge, exterior Washington, D.C. Orders from headquarters pressured an early assault. Within the chaos, a nineteenâ12 monthsâprevious Black youth, misidentified because the suspect, was shot useless. The true perpetrator lay elsewhere, and Vanceâs staff had opposed the untimely entry. But the assault had gone aheadâbeneath the command of none aside from Bartlett, now earlier than them on the display screen. Later, within the Washington discipline workplace, Bartlett had ordered subordinates to change the report, declaring that the assault had been Vanceâs resolution. Vance rose in silence, flung the papers onto the desk, and struck Bartlett throughout the face. Formally, it had ended as Vanceâs âvoluntary resignationâ earlier than disciplinary measures. In fact, he had been solid out.
Now Vanceâs voice, faintly delayed, overlapped with the Los Angeles air. Two distant cities shared the identical gravity of silence. Pens stilled, eyes mounted on the display screen. Every phrase, every gesture etched the define of the catastrophe extra sharply. The chain of photos streaming by way of the community was not mere file, however a slice of historical past because it unfolded. The hush within the room stretched on, awaiting a break that by no means got here. Respiratory shallow, all current had been held captive by the determine of Jack Vance.
The strain, unbroken, shifted its type. From the rear seats got here a recent murmur, loosening the taut steadiness. A number of reporters pulled out their telephones, screens glowing like scattered embers within the dimness. They werenât receiving information alerts. It was a direct hyperlink, despatched by an nameless hand.
Beneath Los Angelesâs chilly lights, the press room now bore the burden of three overlapping spheresâthe New York briefing, the unusual new footage, and the lingering echo of Vanceâs voice. The reportersâ focus drifted to the unknown. It was not merely info. It was a forewarning.
Marcus Dane was the primary to sense it. Standing within the aisle, watching his superior Bartlett, he seen the stir among the many journalists on the heart. A number of had obtained a stay video hyperlinkâfrom the perpetrators themselves. The identical ploy that had reached Jack and the others on the Backyard.
Marcus instantly checked the URL and forwarded it to Tom Caldwell, as soon as a trusted colleague within the technical division.
The footage was unmistakable: the exact same âOval Workplaceâ the place Professor Zakaria Haddad had taken his personal life.
âGood afternoon. My title is Amir Nasser. I used to be a pupil of Professor Zakaria Haddad, who handed away simply days in the past.â
Amir leaned frivolously towards the desk, talking in a delicate tone, revealing a aspect unseen till now.
âAs he instructed you, we as soon as lived quietly in Gaza. We had been dominated by Hamas, by their weapons and their violence. They dedicated unspeakable killings towards Israel. However might we have now stopped them? Not more than youâll be able to cease your personal President from wielding the ability of command. Itâs possible youâll protest in your streets, however we had solely silence, dwelling beneath the shadow of informants and violence. And nonetheless your President sided with Israel, repeatedly, unleashing bombs till not even ruins remained. We, who supplied no resistance, endured strike upon strike, invasion upon invasion. Hamas made us their shields, nesting beneath our hospitals, whereas we, above, grew to become the targets.â
Amirâs voice was clear, nearly luminous. His youth, his neatly combed hair, the unusual stillness of his blue eyesâall drew the listeners in. Nothing in his demeanor recommended violence. He lifted a glass of water from the desk, sipped, and continued.
âAs Professor Haddad instructed you, all we got was darkness. And what does an animal do when pushed into darkness?â His eyes fell to the ground, phrases sinking like stones.
âWe misplaced the whole lotâour houses, our lovers, our households. The whole lot. Do you not name it unjust, to die with nothing left? Is it not the human method to confront those that take? To pressure them to know what it means to be robbed? What does it imply, America, that you simply drink your cola unchanged, whereas weâre stripped naked?â
He paused, then smiled faintly.
âJack, the weekend shall be a busy one.â
The smile was open, disarmingâand chilling.
âIn these years, the Democratsâ tolerance has light, and the Republicans have pushed immigrants to the sting. So we, scattered throughout this nation, have shared our information, and we have now reached a conclusion. ICE, whoâve handled us as vermin, should be re-educated.â
For the reason that shift in energy, ICE had grown ever harsher. With workplaces in practically each state, their attain prolonged throughout the land. Greater than twenty thousand staff in all: some seventy-eight hundred in Enforcement and Elimination Operations, sixty-five hundred in Homeland Safety Investigations, six thousand within the authorized department often called OPLA.
âWe gained a fraction of their information. Let me be trustworthyâsolely a fraction. ICE is just too huge, too diffuse. However we selected two locations, Jack. Los Angeles and New York. And we are going to inform you. Thatâs beneficiant, is it not? You have to be grateful.â
Amirâs smile remained as he concluded:
âHowever keep in mind, our goal is re-education. Anticipate it, Jack. Till then.â
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My new novel:
Bâ (B-flat)
Thereâs nonetheless extra to come back. ð
(This isnât the ultimate draft.)
Set in New York Metropolis.
13
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54769008619/in/datepostedâŠ
12
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54758538180/in/datepostedâŠ
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www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54743658539/in/datepostedâŠ
10
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54737038151/in/datepostedâŠ
9
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54720346098/in/datepostedâŠ
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www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54713957969/in/datepostedâŠ
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www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54703714420/in/datepostedâŠ
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www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54696914108/in/datepostedâŠ
5
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54686544606/in/datepostedâŠ
4
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54653035442/in/datepostedâŠ
3
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54639396885/in/datepostedâŠ
2
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54628511025/in/datepostedâŠ
1
www.flickr.com/images/stealaway/54599616429/in/datepostedâŠ
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47âŠ
Word: I gave a short clarification of this novel within the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Hyperlink::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
My new novel:
Bâ (B-flat)
Notes
1. âBombay Blood Sort (hh sort)â
â¢Traits: A uncommon blood sort that lacks the same old ABO antigens â canât be categorised as A, B, or O.
â¢Discovery: First recognized in 1952 in Mumbai, India (previously Bombay).
â¢Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 folks in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
â¢Transfusion Compatibility: Solely suitable with blood from different Bombay sort donors.
2. 2024 Harvard College Valedictorian Speech â The Energy of Not Understanding
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Photographs Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title.
ã»ã³ãã©ã«ããŒã¯ã«è¿ãéã:)
( LUMIX G3 shot )
ãã³ããã¿ã³ããã¥ãŒãšãŒã¯ãã¢ã¡ãªã«ã2017. ⊠6 / 9
(仿¥ã®åçãããã¯æªçºè¡šã§ããïŒ
Photographs:
The Beatles ⊠Throughout The Universeãåèš³
notice.com/yutosn/n/na8a3ff93b391
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mitsushiro-nakagawa , 2025-09-13 13:00:00
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