BLINDS FOR CONSERVATORIES

Blinds For Conservatories - Cover Windows With Plastic

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SEE THROUGH BLINDS - HUNTER DOUGLAS PROVENANCE WOVEN WOOD SHADES.



See Through Blinds





see through blinds






    see through
  • diaphanous: so thin as to transmit light; "a hat with a diaphanous veil"; "filmy wings of a moth"; "gauzy clouds of dandelion down"; "gossamer cobwebs"; "sheer silk stockings"; "transparent chiffon"; "vaporous silks"

  • support financially through a period of time; "The scholarship saw me through college"; "This money will see me through next month"

  • perceive the true nature of; "We could see through her apparent calm"

  • (esp. of clothing) Translucent





    blinds
  • Confuse or overawe someone with something difficult to understand

  • A window blind is a type of window covering which is made with slats of fabric, wood, plastic or metal that adjust by rotating from an open position to a closed position by allowing slats to overlap. A roller blind does not have slats but comprises a single piece of material.

  • The blinds are forced bets posted by players to the left of the dealer button in flop-style poker games. The number of blinds is usually two, but can be one or three.

  • Deprive (someone) of understanding, judgment, or perception

  • Cause (someone) to be unable to see, permanently or temporarily

  • window coverings, especially vertical blinds, wood blinds, roller blinds, pleated blinds











see through blinds - Crashing Through:




Crashing Through: The Extraordinary True Story of the Man Who Dared to See


Crashing Through: The Extraordinary True Story of the Man Who Dared to See



Mike May spent his life crashing through. Blinded at age three, he defied expectations by breaking world records in downhill speed skiing, joining the CIA, and becoming a successful inventor, entrepreneur, and family man. He had never yearned for vision. Then, in 1999, a chance encounter brought startling news: a revolutionary stem cell transplant surgery could restore May’s vision. It would allow him to drive, to read, to see his children’s faces. But the procedure was filled with gambles, some of them deadly, others beyond May’s wildest dreams. Beautifully written and thrillingly told, Crashing Through is a journey of suspense, daring, romance, and insight into the mysteries of vision and the brain. Robert Kurson gives us a fascinating account of one man’s choice to explore what it means to see–and to truly live.

Praise for the National Bestseller Crashing Through:

“An incredible human story [told] in gripping fashion . . . a great read.”
–Chicago Sun-Times

“Inspiring.”
–USA Today

“[An] astonishing story . . . memorably told . . . May is remarkable. . . . Don’t be surprised if your own vision mists over now and then.”
–Chicago Tribune

“[A] moving account [of] an extraordinary character.”
–People

“Terrific . . . [a] genuinely fascinating account of the nature of human vision.”
–The Washington Post

“Kurson is a man with natural curiosity and one who can feel the excitement life has to offer. One of his great gifts is he makes you feel it, too.”
–The Kansas City Star

“Propulsive . . . a gripping adventure story.”
–Entertainment Weekly

NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE










81% (12)





Through the Looking Glasses




Through the Looking Glasses





A shot taken through one of the lenses of my eyeglasses.

A note about me: I am a stone's throw from legally blind without my glasses. Everything resolves into this colorful blur. The only lines of definition are where one color ends and another begins.

Sometimes, I'm dumb, and I try to do things without my glasses, just to see how competent I'd be as a blind dude.

The answer? Not very. I usually stub a toe or fall over the dog or lock myself in the cellar for days.











First Attempt: See Through Screen




First Attempt: See Through Screen





This is my first attempt at making a "see through" computer screen. Having the blinds behind me wasn't a good idea because they moved in the wind and it made it difficult to line up the pictures.









see through blinds








see through blinds




A Blind Man Can See How Much I Love You : Stories






Amy Bloom was nominated for a National Book Award for her first collection, Come to Me, and her fiction has appeared in The New Yorker, Story, Antaeus, and other magazines, and in The Best American Short Stories and Prize Stories: The O. Henry Awards. In her new collection, she enhances her reputation as a true artist of the form.

Here are characters confronted with tragedy, perplexed by emotions, and challenged to endure whatever modern life may have in store. A loving mother accompanies her daughter in her journey to become a man, and discovers a new, hopeful love. A stepmother and stepson meet again after fifteen years and a devastating mistake, and rediscover their familial affection for each other. And in "The Story," a widow bent on seducing another woman's husband constructs and deconstructs her story until she has "made the best and happiest ending" possible "in this world."

It was Henry James who first claimed the imagination of disaster, but in Amy Bloom's stunning second collection, she appears to have inherited the mantle. Most of the characters in A Blind Man Can See How Much I Love You are pursued by at least one of the biological furies: cancer, miscarriage, Parkinson's disease. And even those with their health intact tend to be sick at heart, having run the gantlet of family life and suffered what the military men like to call friendly fire. Yet the effect of these brilliant stories is anything but dreary. Instead they produce an odd sense of elation--Bloom somehow persuades us that her characters will continue under their own steam long after we've closed the book, and she alternates hope and hopelessness in exactly the right, recognizable proportions.
Take the title story, in which a middle-aged mother is determined to see her daughter through the rigors of a sex-change operation. Jane puts up a good front, almost but not quite earning the title of Transsexual Mom of the Year, and supports her "handsome boy-girl" every step of the way. Yet the strain shows. And when she meets a supernaturally nice man, she can't quite credit her good fortune--even his appearance at her door with an armload of flowers touches off a fresh round of ambivalence:
And standing on the little porch of the condo, barely enough room for two medium-size people and forty-eight roses, Jane sees that she has taken her place in the long and honorable line of fools for love: Don Quixote and Hermia and Oscar Wilde and Joe E. Brown, crowing with delight, clutching his straw boater and Jack Lemmon as the speedboat carries them off into a cockeyed and irresistible future.
The inclusion of Some Like It Hot's Joe E. Brown, who's gotten both more and less than he bargained for in his cross-dressing sweetheart, is a typically marvelous touch. And lest we think that Bloom has weighted the scales too heavily in favor of disillusion, Jane's new lover gets in the last word, citing the South Carolina state motto: "Dum spiro, spero.... While I breathe, I hope." Just keep breathing, the reader wants to say.
"Stars at Elbow and Foot" and "Rowing to Eden" are no less effective in their mingling of tragedy and sublime trivia. In two other stories, Bloom revives the Sampson clan, which she first introduced in Come to Me, and beautifully extends her mini-epic of mixed-race life without a grain of namby-pamby PC hesitation. And last but not least, there's "The Story," a tricky number in which Bloom seems to shoot to hell her own reputation for Chekhovian decency. Here we have a narrator who lies and dissembles, destroys her rival, and lives to tell the (metafictional) tale: "Even now I regard her destruction as a very good thing, and that undermines the necessary fictive texture of deep ambiguity, the roiling ambivalence that might give tension to the narrator's affection." In the end, though, Bloom is simply too gifted a writer to banish all seven types of ambiguity from her work. She understands that we are hopelessly divided creatures and cuts us the necessary, unsentimental slack. Or to put it another way, she forgives all--but forgets nothing. --James Marcus










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