The DoorGo and open the door.Maybe outside there'sA tree, or a wood,A garden,Or a magic city.Go and open the door.Maybe a dog's rummaging.Maybe you'll see a face,Or an eye,Or the picture Of a picture.Go and open the door.If there's a fogIt will clear.Go and open the door.even if there's onlythe darkness ticking,even if there's onlythe hollow wind,even if nothing is there,go and open the door.At leastThere'll beA draught.By Miroslav HolubTranslated by Ian Milner
briliant composition once again erin....the way the poem populates the little holes of speechlessness of the photos is someone only you could have mixed on your palette...
This was a gorgeous entry. www.santichacon.com
I love these pictures.
there is much contrast in these photographsyet such a softness about them.i love them of course because of you and L.~robert
"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))