Thursday photo prompt Is it our light? The light from our Sun? So much is frozen, will it ever thaw? And then, will we have to build an Arch?
Thursday photo prompt Through the snow, through the pixelated mist of our lives, I see him. Writing about him - only the antlers prevent me to say "her" - is another story: precisely. Inspiration is like this vision, looking back at us, shrouded in doubt, shying away from the obvious, a myth. The stag … Continue reading Calling #writephoto #Writerswednesday
Snowfall "Don't get too close!" "What do you mean? Do you think I could wake him up? It's a rock, just a big 'un! Relax!" The snow continues falling, nothing moves, bar the flakes in the light wind. I know it's not a rock, I know what's there, and I don't want to risk … Continue reading Snowfall #writephoto
Turning Yesterday... We walked in this valley, under the burning sun, hand in hand, believing in the eternal summer. Yesterday, perhaps, more than you, my love, I longed for Autumn, and the fall of leaves. Did I believe Time had stopped? Did I believe Earth was flat, after all? Or was I inebriated, drunk … Continue reading Turning #writephoto
Distant Around them the circle of stones would be their refuge, their protectors against the demons of the night. She looked away toward the snow-covered hills: "There will be our home. In the morning we will cross those fields, and then climb up. But tonight we will rest. The ancient warriors are there: look! … Continue reading Distant #writephoto
Thaw He remembered: in his youth, this landscape would have been covered with snow, frozen, for several weeks, even, on a colder year, for months. Now, the thaw had come before Christmas. They'd had two snow storms, and, perhaps, it would be all for the winter... But he knew. Despite all the speeches, the … Continue reading Thaw #writephoto
This year, No snow yet, Time will tell...
“We started dying before the snow, and like the snow, we continued to fall.” — Louise Erdrich, Tracks Out of the mist they march Cloaked in white, invisible, An army of wraiths, frightening the crows, Away from the living, they march towards Hell On their way destroying all evils... Image: Mieczysław Jakimowicz, Foreboding, 1907, via http://snowce.tumblr.com/