Empty #writephoto

empty

Inspired by Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo prompt, 23rd March

I woke up in the open: behind me the sun was setting, and I could see, on the ground ahead of me, the shadow of a large tree. Some old wreckage appeared half buried, atop a small tumulus, and beyond it I could see the reflecting mirror of an estuary. In my mind some vague memory was floating, telling me that I knew this place, and I knew its significance. But I had forgotten what that was, who I was, and where I was.

Images were flashing in front of my eyes: a beach, a river, a bridge, a garden, a stream… Then there was the cave, something had happened there. When? I did not know; what? I did not want to know. Was I still in the same time, in the same world? Was I supposed to be looking for someone? Was I a fugitive, or a predator?

Once I had read a novel, a story about a non-Aristotelian world. There, time had another meaning, the hero was killed, was reborn, and killed again. The forces against him seemed invincible, and yet he kept coming back, brought back to suffer another death. Was I caught up in one of these loops, surfacing in another place, not knowing for what reason, or for what purpose: was I being manipulated, or was I the manipulator?

I looked around: I was on the edge of what may have been a cultivated field, some time back, but now, there was no trace of whoever had lived and worked here. When did I have last seen another human being? Then, it struck me: was I still human?

Controversy #SaturdayPrompt

Inspired by https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/controversy/

osma 002

“No, you won’t do that, and as you well know, if you did, you’d be on your own!” The statement sounded pretty final, so I stayed silence: from then on I’d have to demonstrate I understood where I stood, in the order of things.

And I did. So we are, in a state of cease-fire, neither war, nor peace. I have made-up my mind of course, but I won’t risk a return to this controversy: I value the silence, the long lazy mornings, the quiet evenings. Is this wisdom? Or is it cowardice?

Picture: Orange, Helsinki, 2015, via osmaharvilahtiosmaharvilahti.tumblr.com

 

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

Sound #DailyPrompt #WritersWednesday

The Prompt

93435d68-f901-11e4-b106-bd39ccd745b8-1020x1563

 

For some days I have been deep in Neal Stephenson’s Seveneves, perhaps one of the most daunting reads of the past decade. I intend to review the novel on my Goodreads page, but for now, suffice to say that sounds have a role in that astounding saga of the end, and rebirth, of mankind. Space is silent, but not those tiny cramped tins, where survivors hide waiting for death… And then…

The source of the dappled light, as she now saw, was sunlight sparkling from waves on the lake below, shooting rays through the branches of trees, perhaps a hundred meters down the slope from her, that were beginning to stir in the morning breeze, making soft noises, as when a sleeping lover exhales.

The light of the sun, the sound of waves, violin notes in the evening air… The symphony of Peace.

Image: “Seveneves: the end and beginning of life on Earth”, The Seattle Times

A Walk in Sacrower Schloss Park

dsc_0017

 

The leafless trees look over the park, serenity reigns. Not quite free of ice, the Havel flows, almost with an excuse: it may be February, but winter is far from over. In the distance, through the mist, one can guess at the Glienicker Brücke, the bridge of spies. Many years have passed since then, since the hideous wall was removed, new trees planted, the park reopened, and the old church finally restored to its simple splendour.

The Schloss is still closed, its windows blind; a few steps away stands the millennium oak, witness to the folly of man. The old, tortured trunk still proud, even if half of it lays on the ground, finally resting. The path leads to the edge of Scarow, and further to the west, deep in the forest that surrounds the lake. There, in Summer, the young, and not so young, bathe and flirt in the nude, in the cleanest water around, under the shade of the trees. Now the woods are almost silent, if it were not for the woodpecker’s tireless effort. Half melted snow still lies on the ground, covered in patches with the small, pale bulbs of snowdrops.

The lake is frozen, the calm waters undisturbed by visitors. Nature is still asleep, and Spring a long way off.

Photo: Oak tree in Sacrower Schloß Park, © 2017 Honoré Dupuis

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

Culture #DailyPost

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

dsc_0674

 

It’s all that we have learnt, and forgotten. It’s all that we remember, suddenly, as we walk through the woods, and see the castle, across the lake, which reminds us of beauty and the beast, of treasure island, of snow-white and her friends the dwarves… It’s all that may reappear, in our dreams, in the soft ripples of desires and memories. It may even be about a lost ring?

We follow the lane, our steps made silent by the thick cover of dead leaves. We cannot be sure who lived here, did they write symphonies, or wrote novels? Or did they study the dark heart of time? Were they wizards, or evil magicians? Did they come from the underworld, or from an island, far away, across an immense ocean? Are they still alive?

Behind those trees, we see the old school, the coal fire burning, the ancient wooden floor. It is what will remain when we are ready to embark, on our last voyage…

Photo: Schloß Dammsmühle, Brandenburg, © 2016 Honoré Dupuis

Flames #DailyPrompt

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

tumblr_mzn26ngqho1s9x45wo1_540

 

The old man turns the pages of his album: they are all there, from tiny five by five black and white photos, already mellowed by age, to the bright shots he took at the height of his, and their, seductive power. Beaches, venerable ruins, busy streets, lonely mountain peaks: so many stages he took them to, willing, sometime a little anxious…

He smiles at them, all those gorgeous girlfriends, and they appear to smile back. But is there some sarcasm in their eyes?

Old fool, are you still kidding yourself?

 

Photo: “We are not mad. We are human. We want to love, and someone must forgive us for the paths we take to love, for the paths are many and dark, and we are ardent and cruel in our journey.” – Leonard Cohen, via                  david-f-locke            

Vegetal #DailyPrompt

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

Spathiphyllum cochlearispathum RTBG.jpg

They surround us, little by little: first on the balcony, an array of dark greens and colourful shoots, but also in the living room – ha what a space for us! – the Peace Lily (Spathiphyllum) and one other (Ficus Ali), all good for the air we breath! Then there are the little ones, squeezed between windows, nesting comfortably against the rigour of the eastern winter. We shall wait for their arrival for Christmas.

We will have more, as we believe in their power. No Triffid, of course, only the friendly and beneficial type!

Image: Peace Lily (Spathiphyllum cochlearispathum), Royal Tasmanian Botanical Gardens, Tasmania, Australia Camera data Camera Canon EOS 400D Lens Tamron EF 180mm f3.5 1:1 Macro Focal length 180 mm Aperture f/8 Exposure time 1/3 s Sensivity ISO 100 ~ By JJ Harrison (jjharrison89@facebook.com) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, Link

Up ↑

Helena

The Protocol of Truth

networkpointzero

Le courage c'est de chercher la vérité et de la dire (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

Zeichnung Illustration Papier Buch

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 travelled 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

"Excess on occasion is exhilarating. It prevents moderation from acquiring the deadening effect of a habit." - W. Somerset Maugham

Dynaries Photography

Focus on what makes you happy

Debbie Gravett

Word painter and story slave

(Almost) Unsalvageable

Depression doesn't define me anymore. Now its all (mostly) about inspiration and adventure

Morbus ignorantia - Krankheit Unwissen

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

quiet time journal

Some things need to be shared

paradoxical vagabond

"Fate succumbs many a species; one alone jeopardizes itself." ~W.H. Auden

redstuffdan

ORIGINAL PICTURES FROM NOUVELLE AQUITAINE

Park Preview

A guide to Seattle area parks for the non-robust, lazy birders, and photographers.

Letters From The Ocean

"Stop running after the waves. Let the sea come to you." - Elif Shafak

riutski.wordpress.com/

what's on my mind?

And so it starts...

Personal poetry

MIDDLECLASS MESSENGER

An Advocate For Middle Class Justice

Relax--

God didn't go anywhere!

Love it Now

Love is ever-present within our own Being but we might not feel it until we live in the Now. "Love it Now" was created to share ideas about loving and being present in the here and now. Enjoy!