Choice #writephoto

We have to be cautious, the stones are slippery, a wrong move, we may end up in a past where we are lost, or even worse: in a future where we are enslaved.

Of Glass & Paper

Thursday photo prompt

lincoln-bakewell-gt-hucklow-017

It’s a narrow stream, on this side our present, on the other, the past, or an unknown future. What to chose? Staying here, where we are now, is not an option: sooner or later, but maybe much sooner, we have to step on those stones, make up our mind, and chose.

We have to be cautious, the stones are slippery, a wrong move, we may end up in a past where we are lost, or even worse: in a future where we are enslaved.

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Storm #writephoto

Nowadays the Old One merely enjoys the peace, and the storm.

Of Glass & Paper

Thursday photo prompt

storm

It’s lonely up here, one doesn’t meet humans too often, mostly the locals are ravens and rabbits and moles, and the occasional eagle. But I like it, this is my place, where I dream, and remember. There are sweet memories, and also dark and stormy ones.

Yes, there is a storm coming this way now. I love it, the low clouds, a drop of rain here and there, I can feel the strong winds already, snaking through my empty eye sockets, resonating in my skull. “The Old One”, used to call me the villagers, when there was still a village nearby, long ago.

Nowadays the Old One merely enjoys the peace, and the storm.

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Alone #writephoto

Close to me something, someone, stirs. So, I may not be alone?

Of Glass & Paper

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s #writephoto prompt

se-ilkley-2015-saturday-142

Mist has invaded the valley below, a diffused light veils the details of the landscape. But where am I? Where is this cliff? Is it day break, or dusk? Should I know this place, how did I get here, and how long have I been here, watching how many sunrises?

Finally, the real question arises from the clouds my mind appears to be surrounded with: where are you? The silence is total, this may not be my world, but what is it? Have I lost you, forever? A deep desperation creeps into my soul…

Close to me something, someone, stirs. So, I may not be alone?

“Another nightmare my darling,” you are saying, in the calm voice that always settles my fear, “You’re too hot, I’ll get you some water, and make coffee. You know it’s these drugs, a side effect, soon you’ll…

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Hidden

The Master knows.

Of Glass & Paper

nemesis_now_licufer_the_fallen_angel_figurine_image_1

The little daemons I used to see, at the crossroads, or standing high up on roofs, pretending to be busy, have gone. Or, perhaps, I have stopped noticing them, or they have stopped inviting me to see them. What does it mean? Is it because the city is now used to me, no longer interested? Or is it me who is now impervious to her mysteries, unable to decipher the signs, to see through the deceptive appearance?

But they are still there, watching, without being watched. They are waiting for my next move: they have all the time, other strangers to amuse themselves with, other tricks to play on the unaware. They know that, day by day, this old man is losing strength.

Soon I will be ripe for the taking, for the offer I cannot refuse. The Master knows.

Image: Nemesis, source

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Beethoven in close-up: art of the fugue

To celebrate Beethoven's 250th jubileum the Berlin Philharmoniker has offered its Digital Concert Hall public a delightful voyage of discovery through the composer's chamber music works. In four parts, this extraordinary musical adventure takes us from early works for winds ensembles to the early, middle and late periods of Beethoven's string quartets. For many of … Continue reading Beethoven in close-up: art of the fugue

Abandoned #TheDailyPost

A very quiet place…

Of Glass & Paper

img_01014Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

It’s a hidden place, not hidden from view, for it is in full view, anyone walking past can see it. But, perhaps, not look at it. So, for us, it is close to perfection: an urban corner unlikely to be disturbed by developers and other real estate thieves… A very quiet place, for those, like us, who like roaming at night, past doors long forgotten, climbing silently strange stairways no longer fit for humans…

Image sourcehttp://www.findingberlin.com/abandoned-elisabeth-sanatorium/

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Of a lost character named D

“Perhaps he would have to become D?”

Of Glass & Paper

Wittenberg

On Reformation Day he reflected on the times, the church’s door in Wittenberg, the theses, the peasants revolts, the rivalries, the spies, and yet, the hopes. Lost in the pages were smaller stories: people’s own struggles, love, and death. How he associated D with those times is hard to tell. He had not thought that much about her in recent years, but she was not totally forgotten. Walking in the pale light of October, his steps muffled by the thick layer of dead leaves, he must have recalled other autumns, other storms, and tried to invoke her supple form.

He saw her at first as his alter ego, the sister he never had. She was wise, she had lived many lives, she knew about rites long forgotten. As he wanted to write about her, he sought the right places, the right times. He discovered Q, the long story of…

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Fragrant #writephoto

She sees the colours, feels the warm air on her skin.

Of Glass & Paper

Thursday photo prompt

rose-garden

“Where,” she thought, “where shall I meet you, where for our next date, my dear, so dear love?”

There is no light, darkness reigns, but she knows a place, deep in her memories, the rose garden, in late Spring, the fragrance of the blooms, the humming of the bees. She remembers, she can evoke the place, the time, his face. She sees the colours, feels the warm air on her skin.

She has to be strong, retrace her steps, and his. The monsters are building hell on earth, but she knows where Paradise lies, deep, deep in her heart. Untouchable, safe, as he will be, when they meet again, in the rose garden.

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