And I hear its music through your photographs...
what do i have to say that the forest is not already saying? i feel as though it sings an opera here, what we might call a tragedy but what it might call a celebration of what simply is)))xoerin
atoms and empty space, fallen and snow and fallen trees almost indistinguishable from enough distance, or from close enough ... and yet we reside here, in the music ...(albert goldbarth: the music at the quarky heart of things is elegiac)i stood beside you then, two clouds of atoms and space, tuned by the forest ... who is who?love :-))).
inside the music, the perfect metaphor for the moment passing. perhaps the spheres turning, time itself, does create something to hear if only we can lean in close enough and pay well enough attention. perhaps in every instant there is a miraculous act of creation. (yes, yes! this seems right! such birth all the time!)we stood together there. how impossible this seems, that we might share such a moment of witness and grace, and yet it would be equally impossible had we not.)))in addition to this i want to stress what you and i have talked about so often, that we are not required to title things, to name things, that the stories exist without us. and yet we are here and it is inside of us that the longing to name is born.xoerin
i think, bruce, the world is so incredibly alive. it is up to us to catch up to such a level of living.xoerin
a death, etched.
this shocks me, monica. yes, there is the death. of course there is. there she is, dead or at least dying, slipping incrementally down the slope, her lover reaching for her. and yet whenever i am in the forest it is life i feel, even despite the death. (i'm so glad you say this and bring balance.)xoerin
Erin one of the first thing i love in you it's your way to see trees and the forest, always loved this ability of you to catch all this feelings in photolove to you and hug big hug and strong and fest and fester ciao
laura, i don't know that i could breathe well without them.i spent time overseas when i was young, in taiwan. so urban. so dense. so much concrete. and then in the U.S. again urban. again concrete. it was very difficult.xoerin
"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))