I think the blue turtle just took us from the bright Summer of the previous post into the deep fog of a dark Winter day... how this single bloom survived the transition is beyond me, perhaps paralyzed by cold it could not find the strength to let go and fall to the ground like all the others around it... or it was resisting with all its strength, holding on, holding on...
having sketcheda graphite night she put down her pencilpicked up an eraserand summoned fortha star as delicateand whiteas her skin
I adore this photograph. When I close my eyes, the world about me is devoid of color. I see only shades of black and white, all hints of silver.Pensum's words are brilliant, and especially beautiful, they marry well here, my love.
nothing more to say except I love this
Four petals remain Each representing a letterIt can only be thisIt's talking about:_ _ _ _
Les couleurs vives de cette tortue bleue demandaient un ton plus nuancé qui apaise cette "excitation" soudaine de la rétine...:-)Avec des fleurs... et quelques douces pensées !Bises
well this photo did it, an "ah...." escaped from my lips.(which is the stage of slightly expressive speechlessnes)
decapitated.. dried.. detached.. still keep whispering though..
Cât de mult se poate ascunde în spatele unei simple flori? Minunată compoziţie!
Owen, the blue turtle has come across many wondrous things in her journey, but indeed you are right, what could be more miraculous than the strength and frailty of a small white bloom?
Michael -not only the stars.the night itselfonly existsin the glow of her skin.
my dear S. - you came out of your silver tainted silence to embrace my frost flower... i miss you.when will you write again?meanwhile i am reading your salted poems and walking in the paper garden, again and again.
thank you Sorlil, i am so glad to hear that :-)
Robert, you whisper poems yet keep us away from the knowledge of secrets :-)four petals remain, each representing a moon. it's upon this battle-ground of our lifethat they shed their sadness.
merci Jeff, de tout coeur... oui, apaisement et douceur, parfois (souvent) c'est tout ce dont je reve... mais puis l'exuberance des couleurs et de la lumiere revient, pareille a celle qui eblouit dans tes photos.grosses bises :-)
ah ffflaneur, "the stage of slightly expressive speechlessnes" :-)how i enjoy that!
Peter, yes. still whispering through, how lovely you put it!thank you...
Vladimir, ce surpriza. multumesc din suflet!
i had the strange sensation that i took this one... is this rapture possible?or else, you've been tasting the forbidden fruits of my garden.
i knew you would have this sensation, Prospero. i had it myself.ah, that taste, melting on my tongue.
Than let me take you to the moon, four times, to share happy bloom, throughout the night, in search of rhyme.
Ah que beleza simples...e o pequeno grão cinzento a criar o mistério e a vontade de tocar...Belo, Roxana
Adelino, i don't know how to thank you for these kind words... a little poem, so beautiful:“Quando, Lídia, vier o nosso outonoCom o inverno que há nele,Preservemos Um pensamento, não para a futuraPrimavera, que é de outrem,Nem para o estio, de quem somos mortos,Senão para o que fica do que passa —O amarelo atual que as folhas vivemE as torna diferentes"Ricardo Reis
of the last three this is the one i keep coming back to but i haven't quite formulated in my head quite why. it reminds me fo something but i don;t know what and i ahven't had the time to get all those flower books out again!there's a something, maybe the kind of graphite quality in the image that's like the softness of a drawing...
swiss, i think i know what you mean, i can't understand either why i love this image so much, it must be related to that graphite softness you mention...those flower-books! :-)
Hello there! Your work fills my eyes. which is the greatest compliment I can give. This picture expecially has a strangely remeniscent feeling of another photographer I greatly admire.