Teria uma das primeiras damas dado um spoiler sobre o começo da nova tour na Europa?
No post perguntam pra @leighannedorough se ela poderia dizer qdo começa a tour europeia e ela responde "maio". E aí minha gente? Já deu aquele friozinho na barriga?
Lembrando que não é uma informação oficial portanto não temos como confirma-la!
Acho que aqui no BR nossos boys só devem aterrissar em 2020 ou depois. Aguardemos cenas dos próximos capítulos. @backstreetboys @nickcarter @kevinrichardsonfans @howie_dorough @aj_mclean @rokspics could you Tell us when the New tour starts? Any Idea when are you coming to Brazil? @wonderfulunion @bsbcruisenews #backstreetboys#bsb#newtour#newalbum#bsbcruiseintravels#bsbdreamers#largerthanlife#dontgobreakingmyheart#nextsingle
One of my favorite pieces at @stormkingartcenter is a surprisingly colorless by Mark di Suvero sculpture at the top of a hill. When I think of his work, what usually comes to mind are towering color sculptures made with i-beams. With its position on the hill “Frog Legs,” 2002, reminds me of a weather vane waiting to turn in the wind. What always impresses me about his work is his ingenuity and choice of forms. I love the contrast of the curved bottom with the geometric wings, which is then topped with another curved element.
Remembering my father, today on his birthday, perhaps even more than I remember him on every other day. In Emily Bronte’s words from her poem -
Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,
Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?
Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover
Over the mountains, on that northern shore,
Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover
Thy noble heart forever, ever more?
Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers,
From those brown hills, have melted into spring:
Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!
Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,
While the world's tide is bearing me along;
Other desires and other hopes beset me,
Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!
No later light has lightened up my heaven,
No second morn has ever shone for me;
All my life's bliss from thy dear life was given,
All my life's bliss is in the grave with thee.
But, when the days of golden dreams had perished,
And even Despair was powerless to destroy,
Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,
Strengthened, and fed without the aid of joy.
Then did I check the tears of useless passion—
Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;
Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten
Down to that tomb already more than mine.
And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,
Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain;
Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,
How could I seek the empty world again?.