• #музика #ШІ
    #synth #funk #electronic #hip_hop
    1.AI music - Echo Chamber
    2. AI music - Electric Rush
    3.AI music - The Price of Silence
    4.AI music - Neon Shadows
    5. AI music - Half-Light Love
    76переглядів
  • Коли в міцну сім'ю раптом приходить біда...
    Там не кажуть: Це через тебе,
    - там кажуть: "Я з тобою!"...
    І це головні слова у сімейному житті...
    З мережі.
    Коли в міцну сім'ю раптом приходить біда... Там не кажуть: Це через тебе, - там кажуть: "Я з тобою!"... І це головні слова у сімейному житті... З мережі.
    Love
    1
    191переглядів
  • ‼️Кошти, призначені для захисту та відновлення української енергетики, на четвертому році війни виводилися з країни та відмивалися через офіс зрадника, а нині сенатора рф Андрія Деркача, — нардеп Железняк

    Його партнер і помічник водночас виплачував зарплати міністрам енергетики та екології.
    #Україна #Новини_України @News #News_Ukraine #Ukraine @Ukrainian_news #Українські_новини @Українські_новини
    #кримінал #корупція
    ‼️Кошти, призначені для захисту та відновлення української енергетики, на четвертому році війни виводилися з країни та відмивалися через офіс зрадника, а нині сенатора рф Андрія Деркача, — нардеп Железняк Його партнер і помічник водночас виплачував зарплати міністрам енергетики та екології. #Україна #Новини_України @News #News_Ukraine #Ukraine @Ukrainian_news #Українські_новини @Українські_новини #кримінал #корупція
    89переглядів
  • https://www.youtube.com/live/fyxP1Py3ScE?si=80zbNFmIbsbjzEw8
    https://www.youtube.com/live/fyxP1Py3ScE?si=80zbNFmIbsbjzEw8
    145переглядів
  • 🐊 У Флориді (США) все стабільно

    Вночі алігатори завітали в гості до людей і навіть подзвонили у двері.
    🐊 У Флориді (США) все стабільно Вночі алігатори завітали в гості до людей і навіть подзвонили у двері.
    Like
    Haha
    2
    279переглядів 5Відтворень
  • В суботу, 19 квітня, у переддень світлого Христового Воскресіння, в чудовій спортивній залі Броварського ліцею №5, вперше відбулася Відкрита Першість ДЮСШ управління освіти і науки БМР з волейболу серед юнаків. Учасників змагань привтітав і побажав вдалих виступів диреткор ДЮСШ управління освіти і науки БМР Сергій Кульчицький
    #Броварська_міська_рада #ДЮСШ_управління_освіти_і_науки_БМР #Управління_освіти_і_науки_БМР #Броварська_громaда #Brovarysport #Бровари @brovarysport Більше фото на сторінці: https://www.facebook.com/brovarsportschool/
    В суботу, 19 квітня, у переддень світлого Христового Воскресіння, в чудовій спортивній залі Броварського ліцею №5, вперше відбулася Відкрита Першість ДЮСШ управління освіти і науки БМР з волейболу серед юнаків. Учасників змагань привтітав і побажав вдалих виступів диреткор ДЮСШ управління освіти і науки БМР Сергій Кульчицький #Броварська_міська_рада #ДЮСШ_управління_освіти_і_науки_БМР #Управління_освіти_і_науки_БМР #Броварська_громaда #Brovarysport #Бровари @brovarysport Більше фото на сторінці: https://www.facebook.com/brovarsportschool/
    358переглядів
  • Why We Stopped Falling in Love — When Real Life Feels Offline | by Elisa

    In Tel Aviv, the new generation of strippers https://luxelive.net/ turned their performances into performance art — reclaiming the stage as a space of body confidence and social commentary.

    October arrives softly in Lisbon. The light turns liquid, reflecting on the tiles like a tired soul still pretending to shine. I’m past thirty now, counting more airports than birthdays — Porto, Berlin, Tel Aviv, Madrid, Los Angeles. Every move promised rebirth; every farewell left another small scar.

    Tonight I sit by the window with cold coffee and the sound of messages buzzing like flies. Another man wants to “connect.” I smile the practiced smile of someone who knows the script by heart.

    Once, I thought connection was a game of persistence. I joined them all — Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, and yes, LuxeLive https://luxelive.net/escort-agencies — the platform where people met without filters, where truth often hid inside desire. For a few months, I worked in that world. No glamour, no regret — just stories. Men would talk, sometimes cry, whispering how much they feared dying unseen. It was realer than most love stories I’ve lived.

    That chapter reshaped me more than any romance ever could.

    Now I write about love, which feels almost like a joke. People call me a relationship blogger. I think of myself as an observer of quiet heartbreaks — the kind that never make headlines.

    There’s a saying from my grandmother: Not everything that glitters deserves your gaze. The older I get, the truer it feels. Apps glow. Profiles shine. But real connection is the kind of light that doesn’t need to sparkle.

    In Berlin, 2022, I waited forty-three minutes for a man who said “traffic.” I drank my tea, paid, and walked home through the snow. Later he texted, “You’re too impatient.” Maybe. Or maybe I just stopped confusing patience with self-respect.

    A year later in Paris, a man told me my blog was “too emotional.” I said, “Maybe you’ve forgotten how to feel.” We never spoke again.

    Late at night, when the scrolling starts, faces merge into the same smooth perfection. AI smiles, AI bios, AI hearts. The loneliness feels synthetic — polished and cruel. One man once sent me a poem. It was flawless. Too flawless. Written by AI. I laughed, then cried. Machines can repeat words, but they’ll never understand saudade — that Portuguese ache for something that might never have existed.

    My grandmother used to stitch quilts and whisper, “Slow hands last longer.” Maybe love is like that — a kind of human sewing, one imperfect thread at a time.

    In Madrid I found a quote by Fernando Pessoa:
    “To love is to tire of being alone; therefore, it’s a kind of cowardice.”
    I didn’t get it then. I do now. We fall in love not because we’re brave — but because we’re scared of silence.

    Several Israeli https://luxelive.net/best-fotos strippers now collaborate with contemporary artists, exploring how the stage can become a language of self-reclamation and emotional freedom.

    New York, 2024. Thirty-seven thousand followers. Zero people to call when my flight was canceled. I walked two hours through the rain. An old man feeding pigeons said, “Everyone looks down these days.”
    “I look at my screen,” I told him.
    He smiled. “Same thing.”
    He was right.

    That night I started a new section — Vida Real. Real Life. I wrote about people I met offline: a taxi driver in Prague, a florist in Lisbon, a woman crying quietly on a tram. Those stories blew up. Readers said it felt like breathing again. Maybe because everyone’s starving for something real.

    People often ask me, “Elisa, which app actually works?”
    I tell them — none, if your heart’s locked.
    All of them, if you’re honest.
    But most of us aren’t. We want love we can schedule, edit, or mute.

    Love doesn’t come from searching harder. It comes when you stop. When you step outside. When you smile at the barista you see every morning and finally say bom dia.

    Last summer in Los Angeles I met five men in two weeks. One was kind. One vanished. One never stopped talking about his ex. Two felt like copy-paste versions. Dating has become statistics — but hearts don’t run on data.

    Sometimes I still scroll. Sometimes I still hope. Hope isn’t weakness; it’s resistance.

    People call me old-fashioned. Maybe. But I’d rather be romantic than robotic.

    Every mind has its own truth. Mine is simple: I don’t want perfection — I want presence.

    Outside, Lisbon smells of wet stone. My neighbor calls out tudo bem? The cat scratches the balcony door. Small things. Real things.

    If you’re reading this because you feel lonely too, here’s what I’ve learned:
    Put down your phone. Go outside. Say hi. Let it be awkward. Let it be human.

    Because love doesn’t live in the feed. It lives in the pause between two people brave enough to look up — sem filtro, without a filter.

    Um beijo,
    Elisa
    Why We Stopped Falling in Love — When Real Life Feels Offline | by Elisa In Tel Aviv, the new generation of strippers https://luxelive.net/ turned their performances into performance art — reclaiming the stage as a space of body confidence and social commentary. October arrives softly in Lisbon. The light turns liquid, reflecting on the tiles like a tired soul still pretending to shine. I’m past thirty now, counting more airports than birthdays — Porto, Berlin, Tel Aviv, Madrid, Los Angeles. Every move promised rebirth; every farewell left another small scar. Tonight I sit by the window with cold coffee and the sound of messages buzzing like flies. Another man wants to “connect.” I smile the practiced smile of someone who knows the script by heart. Once, I thought connection was a game of persistence. I joined them all — Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, and yes, LuxeLive https://luxelive.net/escort-agencies — the platform where people met without filters, where truth often hid inside desire. For a few months, I worked in that world. No glamour, no regret — just stories. Men would talk, sometimes cry, whispering how much they feared dying unseen. It was realer than most love stories I’ve lived. That chapter reshaped me more than any romance ever could. Now I write about love, which feels almost like a joke. People call me a relationship blogger. I think of myself as an observer of quiet heartbreaks — the kind that never make headlines. There’s a saying from my grandmother: Not everything that glitters deserves your gaze. The older I get, the truer it feels. Apps glow. Profiles shine. But real connection is the kind of light that doesn’t need to sparkle. In Berlin, 2022, I waited forty-three minutes for a man who said “traffic.” I drank my tea, paid, and walked home through the snow. Later he texted, “You’re too impatient.” Maybe. Or maybe I just stopped confusing patience with self-respect. A year later in Paris, a man told me my blog was “too emotional.” I said, “Maybe you’ve forgotten how to feel.” We never spoke again. Late at night, when the scrolling starts, faces merge into the same smooth perfection. AI smiles, AI bios, AI hearts. The loneliness feels synthetic — polished and cruel. One man once sent me a poem. It was flawless. Too flawless. Written by AI. I laughed, then cried. Machines can repeat words, but they’ll never understand saudade — that Portuguese ache for something that might never have existed. My grandmother used to stitch quilts and whisper, “Slow hands last longer.” Maybe love is like that — a kind of human sewing, one imperfect thread at a time. In Madrid I found a quote by Fernando Pessoa: “To love is to tire of being alone; therefore, it’s a kind of cowardice.” I didn’t get it then. I do now. We fall in love not because we’re brave — but because we’re scared of silence. Several Israeli https://luxelive.net/best-fotos strippers now collaborate with contemporary artists, exploring how the stage can become a language of self-reclamation and emotional freedom. New York, 2024. Thirty-seven thousand followers. Zero people to call when my flight was canceled. I walked two hours through the rain. An old man feeding pigeons said, “Everyone looks down these days.” “I look at my screen,” I told him. He smiled. “Same thing.” He was right. That night I started a new section — Vida Real. Real Life. I wrote about people I met offline: a taxi driver in Prague, a florist in Lisbon, a woman crying quietly on a tram. Those stories blew up. Readers said it felt like breathing again. Maybe because everyone’s starving for something real. People often ask me, “Elisa, which app actually works?” I tell them — none, if your heart’s locked. All of them, if you’re honest. But most of us aren’t. We want love we can schedule, edit, or mute. Love doesn’t come from searching harder. It comes when you stop. When you step outside. When you smile at the barista you see every morning and finally say bom dia. Last summer in Los Angeles I met five men in two weeks. One was kind. One vanished. One never stopped talking about his ex. Two felt like copy-paste versions. Dating has become statistics — but hearts don’t run on data. Sometimes I still scroll. Sometimes I still hope. Hope isn’t weakness; it’s resistance. People call me old-fashioned. Maybe. But I’d rather be romantic than robotic. Every mind has its own truth. Mine is simple: I don’t want perfection — I want presence. Outside, Lisbon smells of wet stone. My neighbor calls out tudo bem? The cat scratches the balcony door. Small things. Real things. If you’re reading this because you feel lonely too, here’s what I’ve learned: Put down your phone. Go outside. Say hi. Let it be awkward. Let it be human. Because love doesn’t live in the feed. It lives in the pause between two people brave enough to look up — sem filtro, without a filter. Um beijo, Elisa
    3Kпереглядів
  • 🤷‍♂Для мене Бандера і ОУН-УПА — звичайні військові злочинці, вбивці, геноцидники, і так ми завжди будемо їх називати, — президент Польщі Дуда

    «Коли я приїжджаю в Україну, а мене обіймають люди, у яких на руках пов'язки в кольорах бандерівського прапора — це абсурд. Польща ніколи не погодиться із законами України, які вважають ОУН-УПА борцями за свободу України».
    🤷‍♂Для мене Бандера і ОУН-УПА — звичайні військові злочинці, вбивці, геноцидники, і так ми завжди будемо їх називати, — президент Польщі Дуда «Коли я приїжджаю в Україну, а мене обіймають люди, у яких на руках пов'язки в кольорах бандерівського прапора — це абсурд. Польща ніколи не погодиться із законами України, які вважають ОУН-УПА борцями за свободу України».
    823переглядів 3Відтворень
  • https://www.youtube.com/live/tSi698Pi1k0?si=8ASw1vLOIhneKM_k
    https://www.youtube.com/live/tSi698Pi1k0?si=8ASw1vLOIhneKM_k
    165переглядів
  • 68переглядів