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 […]
These are wonderful! The second one rivals Ansel Adams. (Immediate gut reaction.)
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Thanks so much, Liz.
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You’re welcome, VJ.
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I like your first photo, trees and water what is there not to love. Beautiful photos for this week. Thanks VJ 😀
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Always a pleasure Cee.
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I think my favourite is the Stratford photo.
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Thanks Heather. Mine too.
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You’re welcome.
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Very lovely! 🙂 ❤
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Thanks Deborah.
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VJ, I love the black and whites. Keith
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Thanks Keith.
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