sundown


what catches your breath? her eyes are captivated by the chemistry and the art of the long lazy afternoon. she remembers little and instead focuses on the coolness of the air when she’s in the shade, the beads of perspiration gathering along her hairline as she cuts back the branches, and how every time she is outdoors she finds a way to get a smudge of dirt on her cheek, side of her thigh, back of her neck, just about everywhere. like a girl playing in the waves, she finds it easy to be absorbed by the quiet of an afternoon where there is just sun and garden and the birds and the neighborhood. she has other dreams, of course, but she knows that everything will come in time as it should. the solace of the page and the photograph and other creations are her zen, where she can make sense, at least a tiny bit, of the world that has tried to rock her core so many times. and today there is a quiet celebration in the realization of the fact that it has been weeks since she’s felt haunted. she is feeling quite as a bird does in a breeze, floating, drifting, at ease. and all she wants is to cover those who need it most with that same soft blanket. we all need our soft places to fall and too often we seem to land on something sharp. her mind is particularly drawn to something she is not sure if she’s ready to admit, but either way she now lets her instincts take the wheel. what are you willing to do for that feeling? how will you open yourself to the road ahead?and so it goes, and so forth, and so on, as you glimpse into my world.



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