Twilight #Writephoto

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photoprompt

twilight

 

We stood at the edge of the woods, as our star was disappearing behind the hills, a move so swift it surprised us. Here, in the open, the air was much cooler, and you shivered a little as we watched, in awe, the waves of mist rising from the valley in front of us. The power of the spirits was palpable, and soon the white sea was engulfing the tips of the trees, masking our path.

Your pale, elfin face just visible in the deepening darkness, you looked at me and smiled, silently saying: “It takes two ghosts to be amazed by twilight!”

You #IWD2017

tumblr_omfyhyjjzp1rtbipvo1_540

 

You haunt my dreams, you haunt these pages, and the places where I once was, and the ones I haven’t seen yet, indispensable, sometime smiling, sometime not, as if you wanted me to know when I keep to the path of truthfulness, and when I don’t.

In a crowd you always find me, and, in my worst nightmares, I no longer see you…

Without you I wouldn’t be here, just a few mineral atoms lost in vacuum. I would not write, what is a writer without muse? How would I even know that this world existed?

Yet, without me, you would be around for sure, but someone else entirely: her reflection in your eyes would belong to another being, maybe even the opposite of me? Can I imagine that strange being, in a world I know nothing about?

No, you are saying, this couldn’t be, for you have made me, and in many ways, I have made you.

Picture: The river, by Chris De Becker

Reflections in a Mirror #WritersWednesday

tumblr_oe407uity61ssfi6qo1_540

 

We retrace our steps, without intention, it just happens: suddenly we see ourselves, there at that terrace, one evening, or there, along those walls, pushing our bikes. It’s later at night, and the Neue Gallerie is not yet closed, we meet there, in a concert of bright lights and laughter.

That was three years ago, then it was Spring; how fast time goes in this City? Those ghosts are us, or perhaps, we have become them. We know those streets, we can follow our shadows. They, us, look at us, interested and tender, those younger faces, ours, so familiar, now observing us from the other side of the mirror.

But which side are we in?

 

Photo: inspired by the beautiful blog https://streetberlin.net/, street photography. berlin.  kulturforum. 2016 © martin waltz

Infinite #WinterThoughts

What is time?

tumblr_ojgi5s19hs1qbdfz5o1_540

 

Only propositions have sense; only in the nexus of a proposition does a name have meaning.

~ Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1921), 3.3

We live surrounded by symbols. In this city, where you and I dream, love, walk and invent new causes to believe, infinity lives through their immortality.

The ghosts have names, some secrets, as yet unrevealed. They have left for us so many traces of their own dreams: Viktoria Hill, the Iron Cross, the Blue Angel, abandoned airfields, hideous ruins, and for each one we can discover them, silent, ever so present, braving the flow of time, as ice covering the Spree.

The lakes are now frozen, the air carries the scents of wood and coal fires, perhaps the lingering sounds of ancient wars. So, you and I, my love, we walk with the Dead, from time to time, listening to their calm voices, evoking infinity.

Picture: The season of fallen leaves. © 2017 Irina Urumova

 

Waiting #DailyPost #Autumn

From the exquisite crew

Processed with VSCO with se3 preset

 

We look out on the street, the scenery of everyday, ever changing, never fading. Autumn is there, palpable, in the leaves blown across the sidewalks, in the colours of the trees, in the chill in the air. Slowly, implacably, the city changes to its winter clothes.

You and I are waiting, loving, reading, light jazz floating through the rooms. Soon the chill will turn to ice, us too will wear our winter coats.

We love the city, we will never stop waiting.

Image: Glas und Metal, Berlin , September 2016 – via jasminmeyer

Disagree #DailyPost #WritersWednesday

Inspired by today’s prompt

tumblr_odzq1r0a9n1vzsq2bo1_500

 

“It’s me you’re babbling about, isn’t it?” she said, on a tone of voice that betrayed her mounting anger. I kept silent, no point in denying: the computer screen clearly showing the latest entry on her story was there, in front of us. At this point she was arguing with her ex-husband, and a row was boiling.

“I asked you before: let’s talk first before you start writing about my intimate life, wasn’t that made clear to you?” I could not disagree, we had that conversation a year ago, she’d complained about not being consulted on details of her life she wanted to be true and accurate. Then she even went as far as mentioning “abuse”. An author abusing his characters, well, this character, at any rate.

I wanted a way out, but knew she would not give up easily. “I suggest you read the draft, and I’ll do the corrections you want, within reason. How does that sound to you?” Her reply was as icy as her grey eyes:

“The fool doesn’t even know the power of words. Think again: what you write can never be erased, or edited out. You just hurt people with words, as sure as you would with a knife! So take that for a certainty: I DISAGREE with you messing with me, my life, past and future, unless I have knowledge, beforehand, of what you are plotting.”

She knows her strength: characters have their rights, and for a writer, breaching those is a sure road to bad writing. I went to the kitchen to make her a cup of tea, but when I came back she was gone. The screen showed in large characters:

“YOU’D BETTER LISTEN THIS TIME!”

Unfinished #DailyPost

tumblr_mxg709wddj1rp2wx5o1_540

We have got so far, much is still to be done. We have to go further, down the quiet streets, and the wide avenues, through the small parks, along the canals… There, somewhere, we’ll find ourselves, the meaning of us, the ultimate ecstasy.

Till then, it’s unfinished business, work in progress, the novel unfinished.

Till then, there is only you and me, lovers, haters, fighters, humans.

After us, the déluge…

Image: Maurits Cornelis Escher – Procession in Crypt. 1927 – via drakontomalloi

From the cool guys

Up ↑

Butterfly Sand

Curiosity run amok . . .

Pearl St. Gallery

Capturing Images Of Nature

Reena Saxena

Founder of ReInventions -- Coach, Trainer, Writer and Personal Branding Consultant

Openhearted Rebel

Inspiring a Revolution of Love, Compassion, and Wisdom

Cunning Witch

at Sutton's Rock Shop

Denkzeiten

Literatur, Philosophie und das ganz normale Leben

PiPP - People in Public Places

© Birgitta Rudenius - xpipp.wordpress.com - xpipp.blogspot.com

neelwritesblog

I write to figure out what is left

Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung - Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!

Ein OIKOS[TM]-Projekt gegen Antisemitismus, Rassismus, Extremismus und Fremdenfeindlichkeit.

Hector Reban

Blog MH17

Pablo Cuzco

...in My Mind's Eye

Berlin Typography

Text and the City // Buchstaben und die Stadt

Helena

The Protocol of Truth

networkpointzero

« Je ne plierai pas, je ne m’en irai pas en silence. Je ne me soumettrai pas. Je ne me retournerai pas. Je ne me conformerai pas. Je ne me coucherai pas. Je ne me tairai pas. Le courage, c’est de chercher la vérité et de la dire ; ce n’est pas subir la loi du mensonge triomphant » (Jean Jaurès).

Tallis Steelyard

The jumbled musings of Tallis Steelyard

heritagelandscapecreativity

Exploring Time Travel of Place

iksperimentalist

a collision of science and comedy

Stift und Schrift

Zeichenkunst, Graphic Novels, Populäre Druckgrafik. Ein Bücherblog.

Words and Worlds

Real and Imagined - by Carl Bystrom

Light Motifs II

now with 27% more woo

mermaidcamp

Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water

Redhead Reflections

Talking inside my head...

My Art & Me

Scribblings & Doodlings

Up Before Dawn

Kicking butt before the sun comes up!

Places Journal

Sisyphus47's writing blog

Mimo Khair Photography

"art is life, life is art"

Bill Hayes

Writer and Photographer in NYC

creartfuldodger

collage/mixed media artist

Islamic Methodologies Made Easy

“Have the people not traveled through the land to make their hearts understand and let their ears hear, verily it is not the eyes that go blind but the hearts inside chests.” [The Qur’an (22:46)].

The Last Refuge

Rag Tag Bunch of Conservative Misfits - Contact Info: TheLastRefuge@reagan.com

Opus bay

Pobres putas cuando reina la Santa hipocresía.

dymoonblog

A fine WordPress.com site

Kingsjester's Blog

Opinions from a Christian American Conservative

Whole, Hearty, Happy

Just a mom on a journey to wellness.

paigezine

"In the end it's not the dates on the tombstone that matter, it's the dash" - Angriest Man in Brooklyn

Dysfunctional Literacy

Just because you CAN read Moby Dick doesn't mean you should.

the secret keeper

"Art is not a mirror held up to reality but a hammer with which to shape it." — Bertolt Brecht

Dynaries Photography

Focus on what makes you happy

Debbie Gravett

Word painter and story slave

(Almost) Unsalvageable

househusband, bucketlister, storyteller

Morbus ignorantia - Krankheit Unwissen

"Wer die Vergangenheit kontrolliert, kontrolliert die Zukunft und wer die Gegenwart kontrolliert, kontrolliert die Vergangenheit." - George Orwell