::: (\_(\*: (=’ :’) :*•.. (,(”)(”)¤°.¸¸.•´¯`» Happy Easter!
i love the stretching, especially when i don't want to, seems to be when i need it the most, when i need to rise.
Each, in our own skin, imagining we are not alone, after all.
Last days I've missed your blog...Beautiful shadows in a wonderful picture (like you usually do...)What symbolize this time?Here...the rainfall. Sun has gone.incredible skin...HugsW.
Ah yes!!!Now there's a photograph!Oh, that's it, as I gaze out in this morning light of something old ending, something new beginning, a death and a life, it's clear how endless it is, the same fire keeps burning through endless forms, and all I can say is that I can't say for sure what is me anymore.
what does it mean to be a self (assuming for the moment that there is such a thing), and always experience being though such narrow particularities as place and time and identity (those factors that make perception possible, and yet limit it)? as if always looking out through a doorframe that offers beauty, and yet restricts, draws boundaries? and what responsibility (blame, choice) do we have in the factors of genetics and circumstance and will that build such a door? i have only the questions to offer this morning ...and yet i also know this door, this room, and i know you in this house, and i dissolve into that knowledge, beyond all questions :-))the photograph is beautiful, this light on the floor that touches also the bedclothes, a richness that makes colour seem forever superfluous :-).
This picture makes me want to bring you to my life today which is bursting with color...Oh, the greens...so many shades of green!! The pinks, yellows, blacks, reds, oranges, indigos, purples, violets, browns....the blues that break my heart wide open. Why no color, Erin? I often wonder.... xoxo
I share with you a deep love of light on the floor, through a window. The door itself. The floor itself, the lines. The wrinkles of the bed clothes. This is great beauty. And may I say (to Marion), I see more than I can hold in the photo, and color would be too much?There are stories, only stories. Every where. It is a tremendous thing that I can never get over. And each one changes with each sunrise, and sunset, each instant.
what i want to do is to walk by each of you and touch your knee or your shoulder or your back or your throat. can you imagine such a world where it would be ok for adults to do this with no agenda? i long to do this. that is why no colour. colour would somehow become speech where touch (and silence if and when i can manage it) is infinitely richer for me right now. i think colour and my reflex is to hold my ears))))xoerin
A great B&W photo, love Your composition. Well done!
and the discussion about colour and bw goes on :-)is this your room, erin? what room? do you sleep in this bed? are you bathed in this light? when? in the morning? the afternoon? i want to know all this, to imagine you there, full of what it means to be erin (and look at me, after james questioned all that binds us to particulars, i only ask for such, here, for that precise ray of light on that precise floor still warm with the warmth of your, and not another's, sole :-)
"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))