Forwarded from Vinnie Sullivan
Of all the places Iโve ever visited as a guest, Knoydart Peninsula in Mallaig, Scotland ๐ด๓ ง๓ ข๓ ณ๓ ฃ๓ ด๓ ฟ ...
Will stay with me above all others.
The most remote part of Britain due to it being unreachable by road, one must hike or use a boat to gain access.
"Knoydart is a peninsula in Lochaber, Highland, on the west coast of Scotland. Knoydart is sandwiched between Lochs Nevis and Hourn โ often translated as "Loch Heaven" and "Loch Hell" respectively, although the somewhat poetic nature of these derivations is disputed."
Will stay with me above all others.
The most remote part of Britain due to it being unreachable by road, one must hike or use a boat to gain access.
"Knoydart is a peninsula in Lochaber, Highland, on the west coast of Scotland. Knoydart is sandwiched between Lochs Nevis and Hourn โ often translated as "Loch Heaven" and "Loch Hell" respectively, although the somewhat poetic nature of these derivations is disputed."
Forwarded from Picture Perfect.
With the best crew.
Forwarded from Vinnie Sullivan
The Realm Of Doom Or Glory
Midst the air, beneath the gulls, below the murk and gloom.
Among the swell, the living hell, upon the deepest tomb.
It doesn't care, for skulls and hulls, the his the hers and whom.
It's stories tell, of a watery cell, with no bias but plenty of room.
Encompassed by, a fickle sky, a realm that does die as does bloom.
Out of helps reach, a life one can't teach, where death like vultures loom.
Forget now the dry, no-one hears your cry, from a crypt no-one can exhume.
Be it land you reach, or a bottomless beach, you had best sing along to it's tune.
Amongst the frost, where hope is lost, a place one can never assume.
It's nobodies home, though it's never alone, no creature is safe or immune.
Where life is the cost, and all lines are crossed, at the whim of a watchful lagoon.
It sits on a throne, and does so alone, with a ready and effective platoon.
Lit up by stars, their lights become ours, a sight one can hardly consume.
For a short time they glow, they put on a show, a sight which like life ends too soon.
The rare light leaves scars, which bend our minds bars, whilst reflecting the tide from the moon.
I guess now I know, why people go, where they risk either glory or doom.
โVinnie Sullivan
Midst the air, beneath the gulls, below the murk and gloom.
Among the swell, the living hell, upon the deepest tomb.
It doesn't care, for skulls and hulls, the his the hers and whom.
It's stories tell, of a watery cell, with no bias but plenty of room.
Encompassed by, a fickle sky, a realm that does die as does bloom.
Out of helps reach, a life one can't teach, where death like vultures loom.
Forget now the dry, no-one hears your cry, from a crypt no-one can exhume.
Be it land you reach, or a bottomless beach, you had best sing along to it's tune.
Amongst the frost, where hope is lost, a place one can never assume.
It's nobodies home, though it's never alone, no creature is safe or immune.
Where life is the cost, and all lines are crossed, at the whim of a watchful lagoon.
It sits on a throne, and does so alone, with a ready and effective platoon.
Lit up by stars, their lights become ours, a sight one can hardly consume.
For a short time they glow, they put on a show, a sight which like life ends too soon.
The rare light leaves scars, which bend our minds bars, whilst reflecting the tide from the moon.
I guess now I know, why people go, where they risk either glory or doom.
โVinnie Sullivan
Forwarded from Vinnie Sullivan
There could be a ghost aggressively breakdancing right next to you..... Same room..... Right now...... And you would have absolutely no idea ๐ค let that sink in