#mayola

[joseliassanchezramos]

Madre ternura.

MADRE TERNURAJoselias, 2024-05-03 Soy tu Pepito, mamy Cruz80 años increíblesSintiendo tu ternura.Sonriendo tu sonrisa. Sigo conversando con DiosMi silencio frente a tiEs plegaria por el mundoCon el cielo en tu mirada. Mírame. No te he defraudadoQuiere a Cecilita, me dijiste.Ama a los niñosSi, con dulzura vertical. ¡Ah! Tu fiesta del 3 de mayoLa chicha, la mistela, el rompope.Las guitarras ya…

[danimal]

Hyundai | Brand Vision from Trizz Studio on Vimeo.

HYUNDAI A visual symphony of texture, nature, movement, rhythm, vibration and light – all designed to synthesise the core DNA of Hyundai. To reach our final treatment we defined the brand’s highest values as Design, Performance and Eco – and set these concepts in motion in a dance of perfect tension between the manufactured and the natural. We created these landscapes of liquid energy to move autonomously - driven by unseen, powerful natural forces. Our vision was to symbolise with movement the sensibility, care, and modernity of Hyundai.

Hyundai Brand Credits

Innocean Worldwide ( Lead Agency )

-Creative Director: Lewis Hunt -Executive Producer: Morten Frantz -Account Director: Petra Erbova

Trizz

-Film Concept Development: Oriol Puig and Lewis Hunt -Director: Oriol Puig -Executive Producer: Chris Vulpi -Producer: Oriol Vives -Art Direction: Oriol Puig, Alex Martín, Evaldas Cesnavicius -Additional Art Direction and Research: Laura Ibañez -Modeling/Liquid Simulation/Lighting/Rendering: Alex Martín -Modeling, Lighting, and Animation ( Threads scene ): Evaldas Cesnavicius -Modeling and Lighting ( Dancer scene ): Oriol Mayolas -Compositing: Oriol Puig and Roberto García -Smoke Online: Ricardo Perez -Motion Capture: Oriol Mayolas -Storyboard: Javier Vaquero -Editing: Carlos Carrasco/Oriol Vives/Oriol Puig -3d scanning and modeling support: Juan León / Ariadna Ollé

Trizz - Live Action

-Live action Trizz team: Oriol Puig, Laura Ibañez, Oriol Vives -Set Design: Albert García Vila -Set construction/inventions: Albert García Vila, Laura Ibañez, and Anna Caterina Melo -Head of Production: Dani Molina -Director of Photography: Rafa Lluch -Shooting Production Assistant: Tomas Minguella -Motion Capture Dancers: Jana Errando, Victor Fernandez -Effects: Nasa FX

-Music composer: Daniel Lea ( Golden hum ) -Sound Mixing: Abbey Road

// take a look at the making of : vimeo.com/167237505 \\

[invivoprod]

Baby Joachim Damana, les demoiselles de Brazzaville

L'école de Muta Mayola chapitre 11 Baby Joachim Damana, les demoiselles de Brazzaville. 

Après la découverte d'un bas-relief polychrome signé Baby Joachim Damana, pseudonyme du sculpteur congolais surdoué Joachim Badindama aussi connu sous les noms de Joachim Badindamana où Joachim Babindamana, le peintre Gastineau Massamba nous apporte de précieuses informations sur l'artiste qu'il a bien connu, disparu en 2016. 

Sculpteur précoce célèbre dès l'âge de 15 ans, Joachim Badindamana est né au Congo Brazzaville en 1950. Il commence par travailler le bois dans le style de Muta Mayola et est très vite lauréat d'un premier prix de sculpture puis d'une bourse lui permettant d'aller étudier les beaux-arts en Allemagne. Il a fait sa vie entre Berlin et Dusseldorf dans les années 1970 et s'est alors tourné vers la réalisation de bronzes monumentaux avant de revenir au Congo à l'invitation du président Sassou Ngesso au début des années 1980. 

 Auteur de sculptures monumentales en bronze érigées sur les place publiques de Brazzaville à partir des années 1980, ses œuvres emblématiques de la capitale congolaise ont disparus lors des évènement de 1997. La population en a récupéré le bronze pour fabriquer des marmites. Pour Gastineau Massamba, les demoiselles de Brazzaville est une œuvre importante pour l'histoire de la sculpture contemporaine congolaise.

[rctous]

RCTO.us RCTO.ws Alier Mayola 1st place $300 Ivie Chess Tournament 2023-07-15 Sat International Cafe 2416 Farnam Omaha NE USA 68131-3612 41.25700 -95.94805

[at-what-is-my-name]

Aujourd’hui  19 février il y a des cadavres

conséquence des politiques des frontières européennes criminelles -stop- 

Un jeune marocain de 17 ans non identifié  s’est noyé dans un naufrage près des îles Canaries (ES) un iranien de 29 ans , non identifie meurt poignardé lors d'une bagarre dans un centre de réfugiés à Vienne en Autriche, les surveillants ne sont pas intervenus. Tommy Klen Mayola , un jeune homme  de 19  ans, originaire du Congo, est mort  congelé, il s’était caché dans le train d’atterrissage d'un avion effectuant le trajet Londres -USA 2 personnes non identifiées se sont noyées après le naufrage d'un bateau près de l'île d’Alboran, Espagne Une personne de 25  ans d’Afghanistan s’est noyée près de Chios Grèce lors d'un naufrage d'un canot pneumatique  qui venait de Turquie. 1  jeune marocaine et 11 jeunes marocains  se sont noyés après que le bateau parti de Jebel Boudinar, au Maroc, a chaviré au large d’Almería, Espagne. 6 personnes non identifiées, leurs ont corps ont été retrouvés près de Zawiyah,en Libye 118 personnes  sont portées disparues après un naufrage en Méditerranée au large de la côte d'Al Khums, en Libye 53 personnes non identifiées sont portées disparues en mer entre Dakhla (Sahara occidental) et les îles Canaries (Espagne) elles étaient à bord de 2 bateaux de migrants. Une personne non identifiée, du Maroc ou de l’Algérie est morte noyée lors du naufrage d’un bateau au large d’Oran, en Algérie, alors qu'elle se rendait en Espagne Un homme non identifié est abattu dans un bateau en mer en direction de l'Italie, il tentait d'échapper aux gardes-côtes de peur d'être reconduit en Libye.

Aujourd’hui 19 février -Paix à leur âme

liste des 48.647 décès depuis 1993 dus aux politiques restrictives de la " Forteresse Europe " Documentation par UNITED -https://unitedagainstrefugeedeaths.eu/about-the-campaign/about-the-united-list-of-deaths/

à partir du travail fait par l'association  UNITED for Intercultural Action, European network against nationalism, racism, fascism and in support of migrants and refugees  - https://unitedagainstrefugeedeaths.eu/


et NOMBRANDOLES -espacio de mémoria- https://www.instagram.com/nombrandoles

[opelman]

Ferrari 458 / Josep Mayola / ESP / Francesc Gutiérrez / ESP / PCR Sport by Artes Max Via Flickr: Racing Weekend / Circuit de Barcelona

[chuckling-chemist]

12th Perigee Extra 1: Don’t Think Twice

((This is a of an homage of the #TumblrLogOff protest. Served well with the new KH III song Don’t Think Twice. Kept short and sweet.))

3 a.m. All was still in the temporary hivestem. Mayola finally managed to strip down into a sleek pair of warm sleepwear, perfect for lounging for another solid hour before even thinking about getting any sort of sleep. Unlike Valeba, who somehow managed to conk out on the couch without even making it into the actual respiteblock of the suite. But for Mayola, between the time zone shifts, the odd hours of the dance (they still had hours left in the night, yet brunch was coming at 11 a.m. for those who wanted it? What kind of schedule was that) and the general mood of the whole festivities succeeded in making it impossible for her. Not that such was bad, but any sort of value judgement didn’t change a racing blood pusher.

Ideally, she needed to sleep. That’s what the recuperacoon is for: calm a troll in any emotional state and force them to rest. Were Icasui here, that’s what she’d tell her to do, at least.

Her pink palm husk buzzed loudly on the table, blaring out the lyrics to Cherry Bomb. Valeba jerked awake, grabbing around uselessly for anything on the couch. Mayola snatched it up in one quick swoop, hurriedly approving the call and putting the thing up to her ear before Valeba did something stupid. Like stab her palm husk for waking her up. That would be bad.

“Mayola?” a frantic voice over the phone asked. “Mayola are you there? Pleasssse tell me you’re --”

Pallia? What the hell was Pallia of all trolls doing calling her? Did Aisral need something? “God, yeah. Yeah. I’m here.” Mayola shook her head. “The hell’s going on? Why d’ya sound upset?”

“Is Dontoc sssafe? He hasn’t anssswered his phone in hoursss and I’m getting worried”

Oh. That was all she was worried about. No big deal. “Are you just worried ‘bout him again? Cause like, Valley’s got it handled. She put a --”

“No Mayola. You don’t….fuck.” There was a pause on the line, followed by Pallia swallowing thickly. “Turn on the TV.”

She looked over at Valeba, curled up tightly on the couch and, hopefully, asleep. “Uh...I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“No Mayola you need to see thisssss. Put the newsssss on. Now.”

The sudden authority in Pallia’s tone threw Mayola through a loop. “But Val--”

“Valeba needs to, too.”

Mayola groaned. She sauntered over to the couch, pushing Valeba’s legs out of the way just enough so she wasn’t sitting on them. Not that it mattered. Valeba pushed herself groggily into a sitting position. “The hell’s going on?” she rasped.

Mayola turned the TV on with a helpless shrug. No point keeping it quiet now. “Just Shorty. I’m placating a fucking…oh.”

As the television screen flickered to life, she saw exactly what Pallia was talking about. Images of cities, some she recognized and some she didn’t, in literal chaos. Lowbloods with obscured faces with molotov cocktails marching through the streets. Midbloods evacuating from a burning officeblock, some perfectly safely through the door, others jumped out of top windows, shattering glass just to end it before it collapsed on them. Lusii rampaging through city streets, bulldozing everything and everyone in their path. Drones cutting down anyone who got close to them. Blues and greens of the upper castes painting the streets as frequently as the browns, yellows and reds of the bottom. No matter which city, the same carnage.

Distantly, she recognized the reporter’s voice speaking over top, but registered no words. Hell, the titles of cities that flashed over and over again looked like symbols on a screen until one of them looked distinctly like a symbol set of the city not far from them. And here they were, sitting ducks in a hivestem ignoring the whole fucking thing. How pathetic.

Mayola gripped her phone with a clammy hand. She dared not look over at Valeba.

“Is...how’s--”

“Sandyhorn’s fine,” Pallia said quietly. “We turned on the newss before going to ssssleep. I just saw one of those cities, ssstumbled upon the name and…”

The looming silence between them only broken by muffled, choked tears from the other end told Mayola everything she needed to know. Who knew how long she’s been freaking out.

“Yeah, we’re fine. Perfectly safe. Just some cancelled plans it’s soundin’ like.”

“Sssssorry.”

“Ain’t your fault. But yeah, let Ace know the two of us are fine and if this somehow hits our shores, we sure as hell ain’t goin’ down without a fight. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay. Can do.”

“And get some fuckin’ sleep. Please.”

“Mmhm.” Mayola heard something shuffle around on the other side as she added, “But ssseriously, if you see Dontoc can you...can you text me? He hasn’t answered me in hoursss and if it weren’t for all of thissss, I probably wouldn’t be conssssserned but I am he’ssss not like you and Valeba and--”

“Right, yeah. I get it. Val and I got this. You go sleep.”

Pallia hung up the call without another word. Mayola’s gaze flickered back up to the screen. It cut away from the violence back to the reporters, a couple of unfazed bluebloods who spoke coldly about the whole topic, how callous these trolls are for putting undue stress on Alternia so close to the holidays.

“So this is how it feels being a highblood, huh.”

She jerked her head over to Valeba. The brownblood’s gaze was affixed to the screen, unfocused. At some point, she must’ve readjusted herself into a sitting position, knees tucked underneath her chin. “Getting to sit comfy in your ivory tower while the world falls apart around you.”

Mayola grimaced. She wanted to rebut, but what could she say? That it wasn’t true? That Valeba was overreacting? Everything would be okay, because they would be safe, she could trust the man running it was hemoloyal enough, no one would want to touch him? With a sigh, she said, “Yeah. That’s about how it works. Everything goes to shit around you while you’re in the only sunny spot and there ain’t nothing you can do about it. I doubt they’ll touch here though. Her Imperious Sunshine ain’t one to fuck around with galas that sing her praises.”

“We’ve fought them before,” she pointed out. “I get we can’t do it now cause it’ll look bad. I do. Teals talk and all that shit. But we already weren’t going home until after 12th Perigee. This city’s so close it’d be easy, and the both of know riots like this last until the damn city is decimated. That shit takes weeks. And no one else here’s gonna give a shit.”

She wasn’t wrong. Mayola fought drones for target practice. Valeba’s aim with a bow was the result of sweeps upon sweeps of honing it into deadly precision and aim. The two together, as she’s found out more than once, were lethal together. So long as the chaos stayed mostly under control, they might be able to knock the drones off without word getting out off-planet of a seadweller assisting.

“You realize Eeks would tell me no, right?” The words sounded hollow in Mayola’s head. She might’ve said it sweeps ago, but now Mayola wasn’t so sure. She might end up saying that she’s upholding tyrian leadership and showcasing her power as possible Empress by standing up to the drones of the current one. More importantly, Mayola desperately wanted to slice and dice on in true 12th Perigee revelry and mayhem tradition. Combined with becoming a living, breathing incarnation of karma in at least one city toward a bunch of perfect targets for such and it all made it difficult to tell herself no.

“I’m not Icasui,” she said flatly. “They deserve justice.”

“You’ll worry your moirail.”

“Dontoc’s got bigger things to worry about than me right now.” Valeba’s gaze turned to her. Even in the darkness of the room, Mayola felt the angry, determined gaze burn holes into her soul. “You fucking know you want to stick it to those goddamn jackass, no good, hemoloyal fuckers. And what better way to do it than jumping out of that stupid, mile high tower and into the fray that’ll dirty their claws?”

Her breath caught in her throat. She’d never meet another troll who could speak to her like Valeba. Not in this lifetime, anyway.

The screen flipped back to the city. Mayola caught blood castes of all kinds fighting back. Bluebloods and yellowbloods pushing back in tandem. Olives and jades and rusts and teals taking advantage of their strengths for a common goal. All together, as if this were Sandyhorn and not a zone of high Empress control, cooperating. All except one caste.

Mayola couldn’t see a single seadweller among the dissenters.

She placed a hand on Valeba’s knee, grinning silently. Now wasn’t the time for words. She didn’t need them. Valeba understood. There would be hell to pay, and the regular trolls weren’t the ones in debt.

[ruhrkanalnews]

RUHRKANAL-FRÜHLINGSKONZERT AUS DEM FEUERWEHRMUSEUM

Zum 1. Mai - Das Frühlingskonzert von RuhrkanalNEWS aus dem Feuerwehrmuseum in Hattingen: SEBEL im FEUER.WEHRK

Hattingen- Am 1. Mai öffnet das Feuerwehrmuseum in Hattingen wieder seine Tore. Nach langer Pandemie Abstinenz und verschiedenen Umbauten, freuen sich neben Museumsleiter Hartmut Schlüter alle Vereinsmitglieder auf viele Besucher in der neuen Saison 2022. Auch das diesjährige Frühlingskonzert von ruhrkanalNEWS kommt direkt aus dem Feuerwehrmuseum. Zwischen historischen Fahrzeugen, nostalgischem…

[plantasdelosdioses]

[lukegescheider]

Mayola day 31 Welp, this is the last of them. I genuinely feel like this challenge has taught me a lot about color, shading, blending and the importance of staying focused. I might do this again in a few years- not next year since I really want to do MerMay- or the year after that since I'd also like to try my hand at AniMay- but maybe 2022 will see me come back and take another crack at this sort of thing. There's actually a store near me that sells loads of specialty crayon stuff like packages of all black, all metallic, the new colors etc., so they might be worth checking out next time. Until then, this'll be the last pure crayon piece I'll be posting for a while since I do love me my pens, colored pencils, and just generally mixing medias. It's been fun and stressful, but it was worth it. #art #myart #Mayola #ragnarevel #crayons #crayon #crayola #whenthemoonhitsyoureyelikeabigpizzapie #bloomingideas #alarmclock https://www.instagram.com/p/ByMYb46BNuy/?igshid=b85tl42gk431

[veryfictitiousdemons]

File this one under “silly ficlet ideas that’ll never get posted anywhere else”, except this time it’s OCs instead of Persona. And by ficlet, for once I actually mean it. 

Because sometimes right now, I have thoughts other than the Goro Akechi brainrot and shuake attic trash thoughts over on AO3

When Valeba talked about “knowing a place” to rest while she traveled with Mayola and Dontoc through Alternia gaining political allies, Mayola should have expected a place like this. Valeba wasn’t like her and Dontoc. Brownbloods, especially brownbloods unable to escape the Alternian meat grinder through stardom, struggled to gain access to most places midbloods had regular access to, much less high-profile seadwellers like a bastard heiress vying for the throne and former matesprit to the Heiress Apparent. Sure, Mayola preferred seedier places to a degree (they kept their head down about someone like her making her presence known – sure the potential positive attention was nice, but they had a customer base that preferred not seeing seadwellers at every opportunity), but that hardly meant she ended up visiting them much. Especially not anymore, with cameras and reporters paying far more attention than they ever did before she announced her attempt at the throne.

Still, when Valeba took them into the dingiest, dirtiest, emptiest bar possibly anyone could possibly find in some backwater town on the way to Gusthollow, all while promising it’s not that bad, trust me, it took all of Mayola’s little self-restraint to not tackle Valeba straight into the nearest dilapidated stickball table and demand to take her to some place not infested with termites.

Self-restraint, which of course meant Dontoc putting a hand on her shoulder and giving a fuming Mayola that obnoxious please do not fuck your kismesis in public while I’m here look. “I’m her moirail, not your auspistice,” he reminded her gently.

As if Mayola pinning her kismesis onto the table to knock some sense into her meant anything was going to happen past that.

Valeba, seemingly unconcerned, plopped herself down in the creaky barstool closest to the bartender.

“You know the best thing about places like this?” she asked as Mayola sat next to her, shooting daggers the whole time. Dontoc chose not to sit at all, opting instead for standing behind the both of them.

“A guarantee no one listens in on our potential conversations?” he said.

Mayola rolled her eyes. “Donny, who the hell’s gonna fucking eavesdrop on us?”

“Mayola, you are going to try to take down Careen. Do not be so arrogant to think Femrey does not have connections everywhere.”

Valeba shook her head, ponytail rattling between her horns. “Don’t worry. We’re fine here. I know the bartender. Wouldn’t have suggested it while we wait for the 4-wheel device otherwise. You also,” she paused, heralding the bartender over with a wave of her hand, “got it wrong. The best thing about places like this is if you kill the bottle with your shot, it’s a free drink.”

Mayola sneered, “Val, that is the dumbest piece of shit to ever come out of your food chute—”

“—Oh like you’re suddenly some eloquent silver tongue—”

“—Like, maybe I’d geddit if was some kinda thing for a specific bar, but all shitty places like this? Completely—”

“—Maybe if you got drunk at places other than Shipwreck Cove—”

“What’re you having tonight, Huntress?”

The gruff voice of the bartender cut straight through their argument. He’s a rustblood. Old, with horns cracked and jagged at the edges and frayed short hair. He also called Valeba by a title and not a name, which piqued Mayola’s curiosity, but not enough to pry.

Behind her, she’s almost certain she heard Dontoc mutter something about how he never should’ve offered to come and get Icasui stuck between the two of them.

Valeba turned away from Mayola to face the bartender. “Single malt barely alcohol. Whatever’s cheapest. Neat and short, preferably.”

Mayola scowled. “Hey hey, you don’t gotta go cheap I’m right—”

“Mayola, you don’t have to pay for me. We’re in loosely defined, casual kismesis where I also happen to be your lowblood ambassador for this whole fucking trip.” And did Mayola hate every second their kismesis remained casual, but she wasn’t about to go into all her weird blackrom insecurities after the Gliden clusterfuck. “If you started paying now that’d be weird.”

“It ain’t weird to be--!”

She was interrupted by the sound of glass thumping against something hard and plastic. In front of the two of them was a small glass of whiskey. “You culled the bottle, so this one’s on the hive,” the bartender said.

Valeba laughed, that stupid light and airy sound that was so counter to her usual deadpan. “Told you.”

Mayola responded by moving to push Valeba straight out of the chair. But naturally, Valeba was always a step ahead of her and braced herself against the counter, making Mayola’s attempt useless. “Shut the hell up.”

[invivoprod]

Un fumeur de pipe signé Mahoungou (l'école de Muta Mayola 9)

L'école de Muta Mayola chapitre 9

Un fumeur de pipe signé Mahoungou

(Sollies Pont)

[negreabsolut]

Erasme i l’imperi català de Carles I, per Pep Mayolas. Llibres de l’Índex, 2019.

[chuckling-chemist]

Kismet, It’s Cold Outside (2/14)

((No music set to this. Also short. These were supposed to be fics of any length, after all))

“You look freezing.”

Mayola bared her teeth at her. “I’m fucking fine,” she hissed. Her fins were pressed tightly against her face, unmoving aside from the occasional violent shudder Mayola gave when the wind blew too harshly and pushed her floor length cloak away. “I’m just a little...just a little cold ‘s all.”

“You’re shivering.”

Mayola grabbed at the edges of her cloak, pulling in both ends as close together as possible and making her look somewhat like a pink fish burrito. “And you’re not?”

Valeba looked down at herself and shrugged. Unlike Mayola, in her long, flowing blue dress with a slit up the mid thigh and light ruffles that gave the impression of the ocean waves on the moonlight and strappy sandals, her evening wear outfit managed to keep her warm. Rather, hers was two pieces so carefully blended with the jumpsuit underneath as to look like one. The long skirt brushed against the snow-covered ground to hide the combat boots underneath her dress. The billowy nature of it allowed for fluid movement in emergency situations, and by virtue of it being a skirt made it easy to tear off in an emergency. Her top, complete with a thin, hooded cloak made to be worn indoors or outdoors, stopped right at her waist. The fully covering sleeves of the top were made to look like regular sleeves with little more than wing accents on the forearm, but in actuality were bracers to protect her in the event of a skirmish. (Not to mention it helped hide the rather unfortunate scars around her wrists from where the ropes dug in.) And the high collar, accented in small feathers, kept the wind off her neck.

“I came prepared.”

“Oh ha-fucking-ha. You’re just gonna mock me looking cute as hell and a bit cold by--” Valeba put her bare hand up against Mayola’s cheek, silencing her instantly aside from an overly long, drawn out sigh. She chuckled.

“Warm?”

She nodded. “Just never move and I’ll be fine for the rest of my--hey!” Mayola’s head snapped to attention the second a giggling Valeba jerked her hand away. “I was usin’ that!”

“You’ll live.”

“The hell I will!” She made a motion to grab Valeba’s arm, not stopping until the brownblood pulled her arm away to rub at her wrists. At which point, Mayola’s arms immediately went behind her as she babbled out, “Right. Shit. Your thing.”

Valeba shrugged. “It’s uh...it’s fine. You forgot. That’s all.” She reached into the inner pocket of her coat and pulled out one of the small plastic bottles labeled for some kind of cinnamon whiskey to hand out. It’d work better than any further reassuring Mayola she didn’t do anything wrong. Kismesis or not, her legitimate sensitivity to Valeba’s issues is why she was happily willing to partake in some more unusual indulgences. “Here. Should warm you up while we wait.”

In the blink of an eye, the full bottle disappeared from Valeba’s hand and ended up, completely empty, in Mayola’s. She shuddered again, exhaling a shaky breath that smells somewhat like alcohol and mostly like cinnamon and cold. “I needed that.”

“Yeah I noticed.” She smirked. “Don’t worry, we should get in soon. After all, when does this open?”

“Seven.”

Valeba nodded as she pulled out her palmhusk. “Okay, and so now it’s…”she trailed off as she scrolled past the numerous alerts: a couple day-old texts from Dontoc, a blurry picture from Ardeen of his lusus, and calendar reminders. Eventually, she reached got to the actual time, revealing a violet glowing 6:58 in the center. “It’s 6:58,” she said finally.

She threw the plastic bottle on the ground with a strangled yell, letting it bounce off the pavement and somewhere into the falling snow around them. “Goddamnit it!”

[ruhrkanalnews]

2. DISTANZ IN DEN MAI MIT VIELEN ZUSCHAUERN

Es war uns ein Fest! Vielen Dank bei allen Zuschauern und bei den Unterstützern. Das Konzert ist weiterhin bei RuhrkanalNEWS abrufbar #nutztDieCoronaApp #kulturdarfnichtsterben #sebel

Hattingen- Nach 2020 hat RuhrkanalNEWS auch in diesem Jahr zum “DisTanz in den Mai” geladen und kann dazu den inzwischen international bekannten Musiker Sebel gewinnen. Er tritt aktuell mit seiner Freundin Inga Strothmüller auf, und präsentiert im gemeinsamen Programm alte und neue Lieder. “Natürlich würden wir lieber vor große, Publikum in auftreten und gemeinsam mit unseren Fans feiern”, sagt…

[bisouskam]

Laya

Lolaya

Mayola

Mola

Mayla

Community Cleanup gfs

Sass lesbians

Discuss