IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Expectations artificialliving in an urban junglelonging for nature’s calm – time moves too swiftlybarely registerlet alone participate We are guests in our ownexpectation’s dysfunctionlicensed for depression a smorgasbord for abuseintentions mislaid,disappointment unavoidable The ego pretends to be openbut she’s an actress off cueplaying out a sentence – condemned to basicspraying to escapethis dystopian malfunction. (Image […]
I like the images that so powerfully underscore your reflection. I can see and feel the texture. And I can see how it is life.
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Thank you, Paul. Hope you are having a peaceful Sunday.
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Pleasure – it was restorative, coming to an end now down here – 11.00 p.m. and cooling nicely.
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I love both the philosophy and the imagery, honoring the texture, and history of weathered structures, linked with the eternal flow of the river. I find it both immensely sad and immensely hopeful – this resonates with me.
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Thank you. It’s nice to have ones work apppreciated
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That old fence really caught my attention. Wonderful series of photos. 😀
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Thanks
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