Hello fellow Clickstars!
Another week packed with beautiful, authentic content got put on chain by our community — together, we built the most trusted image archive to counter the flood of AI-generated content. Your content is the lighthouse of truth in a sea of misinformation, and united we make a difference in how the world is perceived.
This week's Clicks travel across four countries and five very different moods — a silver kettle coming to the boil on the shore of a brand-new reservoir carved from the ancient Tigris valley in southeastern Türkiye, a cast-iron manhole cover in Redondo Beach whose city seal quietly holds 130 years of California coastal history, a breathtaking panorama over Cuenca's cliff-hugging old town in central Spain, a rooftop solar field gazing out over the sprawling, energy-hungry city of Ibadan in Nigeria, and the legendary tall ship Belem gliding back into Marseille's Vieux-Port with a French tricolour streaming from her stern. Each of these moments happened, was felt, and is now certifiably real — signed and stored inside the Digital Trust Network exactly as it looked in the split second the shutter dropped.
Settle in and let these five Clicks carry you from a wildflower-edged dam shore in Mardin province where a battered kettle keeps an age-old Tigris ritual alive, to a Redondo Beach pavement where an iron disc maps the birth of a port, a railway empire and California surfing in one neat circle, on to a clifftop in Castile-La Mancha where Cuenca's impossible skyline balances eight centuries of stone above two river gorges, then up to an Ibadan rooftop where solar panels signal a city rewriting its energy future, and finally to the Vieux-Port where a 130-year-old French barque docks for a weekend and turns the ferry noise into a living history lesson.
Throughout the week, the team handpicks Clicks to promote the different feeds and Clickstars on social media, like X, Instagram. They get a tip from Nodle for their contributions to the network, Click archive and creativity — if you want to get highlighted by the official accounts, keep on Clicking, yours might be next!
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In this week, the archive grew by 578 Clicks, totaling a staggering 75,099 certified media that got put on the chain. Week by week, contributions all over the world contribute to Nodle - the first Digital Trust Network that empowers creators and enterprises alike through their Android and iOS apps.
(Please note that the figures for the previous week were updated following the resolution of a query error.)
Where: Dargeçit, Mardin, Türkiye
Feed: Nature
Social links
X: https://x.com/clickdeepreals/status/2051371409725677759
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DX7TMn_DrXo/
Our Clickstar kicks the week off with a cup of tea.
This Click was taken near Dargeçit in Mardin province, on the shore of the Ilısu Dam reservoir on the Tigris River, roughly 17 kilometres east of the town. The Ilısu Dam, completed in the early 2020s as part of Türkiye's vast Southeastern Anatolia Project, is a concrete-face rock-fill structure generating about 1,200 megawatts of electricity, with a reservoir capable of storing over 10 billion cubic metres of water across more than 300 square kilometres at full level. The landscape in the photograph — a steel kettle glowing against a foreground of clover and yellow wildflowers, a calm lake stretching toward bare limestone hills in the hazy distance — is geologically ancient but politically very new.
The lake that frames this Click carries layered history. As the reservoir filled from 2019 onwards it inundated parts of 199 villages and, most famously, almost all of the ancient town of Hasankeyf further west, a settlement with evidence of human occupation going back at least 10,000–12,000 years. International campaigns and local activists fought for decades to save Hasankeyf's cliff-side caves, bridges and mosques; some monuments, like the 15th-century Zeynel Bey Tomb, were moved to higher ground on giant transporters, but roughly 90 percent of the historic landscape now lies submerged. Beyond that loss, the reservoir has reshaped everyday life for villages across the upper Tigris basin. Official figures highlight Ilısu as Turkey's fourth-largest hydropower plant, crucial for energy production and flood control, while critics in Iraq and Syria point out that trapping so much Tigris flow upstream can mean lower water levels downstream — with knock-on effects reaching as far as the Mesopotamian Marshes near the Gulf.
For people in Dargeçit and nearby villages, the new lake has already become a place for small recurring rituals — shore-side picnics, evening drives to watch the reservoir glow at sunset, and the very Middle Eastern tradition of making tea in a battered kettle over a simple fire. Long before the dam, Tigris journeys were built around similar pauses; Hasankeyf boatmen once told stories of kelek rafts floating down to Mosul with goods, stopping for tea and flatbread on the riverbanks before the dam era slowly ended that way of travelling. In that sense, this Click compresses a great deal: a quiet May afternoon, wildflowers on the shore of a brand-new artificial lake, and an old habit — boiling water for tea — stubbornly holding its place in a transformed river valley.
Where: Redondo Beach, California, United States
Feed: General
Social links
X: https://x.com/clickdeepreals/status/2051759960686567753
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DX-FdS8jrLD
OGSPAZM shares one of those underrated objects we all pass by without noticing.
This Click looks straight down at a Redondo Beach sewer cover cast with the city seal, which proudly announces "City of Redondo Beach – Incorporated April 29th 1892" around a steamship and wharf scene. The iron disc is made by East Jordan Iron Works and stamped "Made in USA" — a quiet badge of municipal pride embedded in everyday pavement. The steamship engraved at its centre is no decorative flourish: in the late 1800s a fierce race was on to establish the deep-water seaport of Southern California, and by 1889 investors had bought over 400 acres of coastal land for the Redondo Beach Improvement Company, tying it into rail lines that brought lumber, passengers and freight to three long piers jutting into the bay.
When Redondo Beach incorporated in 1892 after a 177–10 vote, it became the ninth city in Los Angeles County and quickly served as an early Port of Los Angeles, with Santa Fe trains and eventually Henry Huntington's Pacific Electric "Big Red Car" line delivering Angelenos straight to the waterfront. That wharf era lives on in the steamship pressed into this iron lid — a reminder of tall-masted vessels, lumber schooners and passenger steamers docking where today's marinas, bike paths and seafood joints sit. Redondo also has a strong claim on the birth of Californian surf culture: in 1907 railway magnate Huntington invited Hawaiian-Irish waterman George Freeth to perform surfing exhibitions here, and by 1912 Freeth had organised California's first official surf club in Redondo Beach, training local lifeguards to surf so they'd better understand waves and rescue techniques, spreading surfing from a spectacle into a lifestyle along this stretch of coast.
Today, the city hosts the long-running Lobster Festival at Seaside Lagoon and the BeachLife Festival, a waterfront music, food and surf-culture event that in 2026 brings acts like Duran Duran, James Taylor and Sheryl Crow to stages just a short walk from where this manhole cover sits. So this Click doesn't just show a piece of iron in the pavement — it quietly maps lumber schooners, Big Red Cars, the first California surfers and crowds that still gather a few blocks away for live music and messy seafood under the same salty air.
Where: Cuenca, Cuenca, Spain
Feed: Monuments
Social links
X: https://x.com/clickdeepreals/status/2052078198519652485
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DYAO5_diNUd
FLYERIN takes us on a journey to one of Spain's most extraordinary hilltop cities.
The photograph frames Cuenca's old town from across the gorge — a compact mass of pale stone buildings perched on a narrow ridge where the Júcar and Huécar rivers have been carving their respective canyons for millennia. Red poppies dot the scrubby foreground, adding a flash of colour against the overcast sky, while cypress trees and monastery walls terrace the ravine below. UNESCO designated Cuenca an "unusually well-preserved medieval fortified city," and what the citation captures well is that its greatness lies not in one blockbuster monument but in the entire ensemble: streets, walls, churches and houses adapting to an almost impossible topography, perching over voids and weaving along knife-edge ridges. The city's most famous image — its Casas Colgadas, or Hanging Houses — are a handful of 15th-century homes whose wooden balconies jut directly out over the Huécar gorge; once common along the whole eastern rim, only a few survive today, and they now house the Museo de Arte Abstracto Español, making the cliff edge double as a modern art address.
Cuenca's calendar has its own drama. Semana Santa here is one of Spain's most intense Holy Weeks, with the Good Friday procession of Las Turbas — the "mob" — standing out: from around 5:30 in the morning, more than 2,000 hooded turbos pound drums, blare bugles and recreate the mocking of Christ on the road to Calvary as pasos wind through the steep streets toward the cathedral. At the very end, when the image of the Virgen de la Soledad appears in Plaza Mayor, the chaos breaks into complete silence — a moment locals describe as one of the most moving contrasts of noise and stillness anywhere in Spanish Easter tradition. In September, the mood flips entirely for the San Mateo fiestas, whose origins trace back to Alfonso VIII's conquest of the city, when locals drove cattle through the streets in thanksgiving for victory; today it mixes bull-running with peñas, parades and street parties that take over the same alleys and viewpoints this Click surveys. Seen from this vantage point, the old town almost hides all of that drama under a layer of quiet morning cloud — but every cliff-edge house and terraced garden down in the ravine has at some point watched drums, dancers, pilgrims and party-goers spill past.
Where: Ibadan North, Oyo, Nigeria
Feed: Architecture
Social links
X: https://x.com/clickdeepreals/status/2052457025368408509
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DYDB0QoDrEE
NESTANOIR shares this view over Ibadan.
What makes this Click so compelling is the juxtaposition: a tightly packed array of deep-blue solar panels fills the rooftop in the foreground, while behind it the city rolls out in every direction — low-rise rooftops interrupted by communication towers, a green building with its own smaller solar array, and a busy road threading toward the hazy horizon. It is Ibadan in a single frame: deeply urban, relentlessly expanding, and quietly adapting. Ibadan North is one of the core local government areas of the Oyo State capital that grew from a 19th-century war camp into one of West Africa's largest cities, with a population estimated at well over three million in the urban core alone. The city's skyline is anchored by Cocoa House in Dugbe — completed in 1964 and opened in 1965 as West Africa's first skyscraper, a 26-storey, 105-metre tower built entirely from the Western Region's cocoa, rubber and timber revenues, originally nicknamed "Ile Awon Agbe" (House of Farmers) before the more iconic name stuck.
The context for rooftop solar here goes beyond individual buildings. Nigeria faces a chronic electricity supply deficit: the national grid regularly delivers far less than demand, and frequent outages push homes, hospitals and businesses to find their own generation. Rooftop photovoltaic systems have expanded rapidly in Lagos, Ibadan and other major cities as panel costs have fallen, and Oyo State has signalled solar as a priority in its energy plans, with the Ibadan Electricity Distribution Company covering a large franchise area. For a building owner in Ibadan North, a rooftop full of panels like the one in this Click is both a practical response to grid unreliability and a visible statement of intent. Ibadan North also includes the University of Ibadan — Nigeria's oldest degree-awarding institution, founded in 1948 and made fully independent in 1962 — which became a powerhouse for African scholarship, particularly through the "Ibadan School of History" that pushed historians to write Africa's past from African rather than colonial perspectives.
Beyond classrooms and offices, Ibadan's rhythm is marked by powerful traditional festivals. The Oke'Badan Festival commemorates the hill that sheltered early Ibadan people during wartime and combines solemn thanksgiving rituals led by the Olubadan — the city's paramount ruler — with teasing songs traded between young men and women, reminding residents each year of the city's origins and resilience. During Egungun season, the dramatic Oloolu Festival sees Ibadan's most feared masquerade move through the city over several days, paying homage at key institutions and the Olubadan's palace, drums and chants turning streets into a kind of moving spiritual theatre. Seen against that backdrop, those solar panels on a Ibadan rooftop carry an extra charge: they sit in a city where a farmer-funded skyscraper once defined modern ambition, where the country's first university keeps debating ideas late into the night, and where masquerades and hilltop festivals still thread ancestral stories through the traffic noise below.
Where: Marseille, Bouches-du-Rhône, France
Feed: Events
Social links
X: https://x.com/clickdeepreals/status/2052777803318177892
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p/DYFUYOGCF6f
MOI2233 closes the week with a historical highlight.
This Click shows the legendary three-masted barque Belem moored in Marseille's Vieux-Port, the French tricolour streaming off her stern and the city climbing the hills behind — Notre-Dame de la Garde visible on the ridge, the ochre and cream facades of the Quai du Port lining the basin below. The ship dominates the frame exactly as she would have dominated any 19th-century harbour: black-hulled with a white gunport stripe, rigging cross-hatched against a cloudy May sky, attended by small motor tenders and watched from the quayside by a crowd that fills every metre of the embankment. Built in 1896 at the Dubigeon shipyards near Nantes, Belem is the last surviving 19th-century French merchant tall ship still sailing. She spent her early career hauling cocoa, coffee, rum and sugar from Brazil, French Guiana and the West Indies to France — including cargoes for the Menier chocolate company — before living subsequent lives as a luxury yacht named Fantôme II for the Duke of Westminster and later Giorgio Cini for an Italian foundation. Rediscovered, bought back and restored under the French flag in the 1970s, she now sails as both a living museum and a sail-training vessel carrying up to 50 trainees at a time, protected as a Monument Historique.
For Marseille, this visit is part of an ongoing story. In 2024 Belem became world-famous once more when she carried the Olympic flame from Greece to the Vieux-Port for the Paris 2024 Games, arriving to huge crowds and a light show before the torch relay moved inland. Two years later, in May 2026, she returned to the same harbour — docking at the Quai de la Fraternité and opening her decks to visitors on the weekend of 9–10 May, with crew-led tours through the navigation spaces, living quarters and restored woodwork. Marseille itself has been a sea gate for over 2,600 years, since Greek sailors from Phocaea founded Massalia here around 600 BCE, and the Vieux-Port has seen everything from Roman galleys and medieval crusade fleets to immigrant ferries and modern vessels bound for Corsica, Algeria and Tunisia. The city has leaned into that maritime identity with repeated tall-ship gatherings and regional links to festivals like Escale à Sète, the huge Mediterranean celebration of traditional sailing held every two years. Against that long backdrop, this Click freezes one of those recurring Marseille moments when a ship from another era slides into the old basin and, for a few days, turns the everyday ferry noise into something that feels like a living history lesson.
This week's edition comes together around places that reward a second look. A Tigris shoreline reveals a new lake sitting on top of 10,000 years of civilisation, a Redondo Beach pavement disc quietly maps a port, a railway empire and California's surf culture in one iron circle, Cuenca's cliff-top old town balances stone houses over two river gorges with the same conviction it has since the Middle Ages, an Ibadan rooftop full of solar panels signals a city finding its own answers to a grid that can't keep up, and Marseille's Vieux-Port fills once more with a 130-year-old ship that keeps finding its way home. Each Click stays faithful to that mix of immediacy and depth: the scene is real, the feeling is local, and the story gets richer the longer you look.
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