The end of the year and beginning of a new one are conventions. Collectively, we could have divided time and established special moments any other way. For some reason, it was a moment in the middle of winter that most of the world now celebrates as the start of something new. And, despite its arbitrariness, I’ve always felt and lived it as if it were special.
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Thank you for all the gifts The ones that I asked for, the ones I didn’t ask for The ones I didn’t even know were there That cup of cocoa That night train across the mountains That uncontrollable anger Those boxes under the Christmas tree The dark butterflies of helplessness in my stomach Those uplifting words just when I needed them Those crushing words that still resonate in me You were doing your best, I know I received them all Bound as we were by this Unbroken chain of transmission
I suddenly woke up as if an alarm was going off somewhere. A high-pitched noise drilling holes into the fabric of reality. But there is nothing. The silence is complete, definitive, almost painful.
I dreamt of you. Again. You were looking at me with that look of calm detachment. Not even disappointment. Not even resentment. Just coldness, as if you were looking through me, beyond me, to whatever else was there once I was out of the picture.
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It rains over the city like a curtain falling after a big show.
Contours are blurred out. Light trails lit up the night. Colors dissolve into one another. Hurried silhouettes pass by.
Summer is gone. The irreversibility of this simple fact is now made concrete, almost painfully tangible. There’s no going back to that part of life, with all its good and bad.
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All this unchecked wild growth. This gracious abandonment. These plant seeds flying around, offering themselves to anybody, offering themselves to nobody. This whirlwind of life coming together in this very moment, unplanned yet fully in sync. Not asking for a witness, not needing to be acknowledged, just being there.
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I woke up early, too early, like so many times before. There’s a beautiful sunrise out there, for anybody who’d care to witness it. Not me. I am struggling to wake up after I struggled to go back to sleep. Not feeling quite ready to start the day, yet far away from that coziness of being under the blanket and just turning over for another hour of sleep.
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This week’s Lens-Artists Challenge, hosted by Amy, is Earth Story. Here is my story of spring, light, and color.
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The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don't dwell on what has passed away Or what is yet to beContinue reading
This Belgian village counts just a handful of houses, meandering across the hills. In front of the church, there’s a hand-written sign: “big fire on Saturday”. That’s about all the detail. Here, everybody knows everybody. And everybody knows where everything happens.
It’s the communal bonfire at the end of the carnival. The burning of winter in effigy.
As it gets darker, people start gathering on a hill outside the village. Some of them costumed. Kids are running around, high with excitation and fatigue. It’s freezing.
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