So many faces, so many objects, coming to us from the past; some strangely familiar, others, forever enigma, forged by minds we cannot decipher, or from individuals so distant in time that their language is forgotten. We parse, think, and chose, the ones we can retain, remember, the ones that inspire us, or invite us to reflect on our own time, to extend our dreams.
We meet them on the street, in the eyes of passers-by, in the windows of small shops whose purpose is uncertain. Or in museums, already acknowledged by some unknown collector or curator, half-way between celebrities and relics…
From time time, our mind captures one of those that are different: the still vibrant ghost of a powerful spirit, who, perhaps, has not spoken her last words.
Photo: Clocktower, Göttingen
I started reading this as “prose” and realized, wow, this is poetry. Great stuff! 🙂
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yeah me too…
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Superbe, merci
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