Coming back from Sullivan County, rushing by a river,
Skimming the earth like wind,
In a moment of parked repose, the trees reach to the Sistine Chapel.
As night falls, bridging our way from burbs to urban, dread narrowing my thoughts.
We fly down the west side through lurid beauty: cramped trees growing in concrete. I prepare to meet what it means to be the daughter of Sol.
Faces alike, countered spirits, from the other side, his reign remains.
writing, Stephanie, Thank you for writing, Amy
I love life presented as one whisks past as an observer, the changes of the scenery, the thoughts they provoke.
You. Your family. And carsssssssss. Mythic.
love the feeling of movement and motion in this. i have a long ago written piece called “Moving Car Windows”, an image that has drawn me in for years. Love the moving forward and looking back. Invites reverie and contemplation. i really enjoy driving on “our” Hawaiian island as we coast down the single road with tall leafy green stalks billowing in the island wind on either side. i feel so small and so expansive. Thanks for sharing you inner and outer Beauty Stephanie. xx
These images are exquisite … suggesting pure energy in movement, color, matter dematerializing … the fleeting nature of this World woven of the Elements…and you subtly convey the pain of trying to comprehend … while in this dance of mourning, partnered by what is veiled.