the first photo is the innocent seduction, innocent because the seduction takes place through being, not through intent.
this photograph, the second, the last, feels like the silence after the rising cacophony of an opera's resolution, the death blow, the capitulation after violence, the repercussion, nothing neat, certainly not (even) the successful seduction.
the light on the fallen poppy is crushing. i love her here more in this state than i would have thought possible; certainly more than in her nubile state. i know her here. i understand her. no matter which first step we take, we always live inside its aftermath.
i am staggered by this photograph, james, as though it is the only flower i need to know.
erin: the innocent seduction ... and the last seduction ... i love her here most, too, know her here most intimately ...
you have expressed very precisely what i felt but did not know the words for ...
this is not the first time you have done this ... you know me impossibly ... not even a wife can know her husband so ... i think my blood is warmed and quickened in your body, and the only language i understand is born in your mouth ...
and yet (it may be an illusion created by that gentle light, filtered by the curtains), i don't feel any violent convulsions here, not even that they have taken place, certainly no tragic fight, no resistance, no despair... but a sweet and peaceful acceptance of life as it is, of the flow of time, of flowing into it, of letting oneself go with the wave of light, be it into darkness (as they are the same, eventually). then again, maybe i am still imbued with the japanese way of feeling, that lightness of being, far away from our dark existentialism (no matter how much that dark existentialism is a part of my own nature, maybe the most authentic, certainly the oldest, the first i can remember).
all this instead to say what it is enough: astonishing beauty, enfolding my heart -
Roxana: i think this peaceful acceptance of the flow of time becomes easier for me, these days -- or, at least, i see more clearly that the story is not my story, and the wave of light that carries me toward the darkness is not unkind :-)
though i suspect that this is a kind of mantra i keep fluttering against my indomitable dark existentialism, with the sweet illusion that it might work its magic :-)
the first photo is the innocent seduction, innocent because the seduction takes place through being, not through intent.
ReplyDeletethis photograph, the second, the last, feels like the silence after the rising cacophony of an opera's resolution, the death blow, the capitulation after violence, the repercussion, nothing neat, certainly not (even) the successful seduction.
the light on the fallen poppy is crushing. i love her here more in this state than i would have thought possible; certainly more than in her nubile state. i know her here. i understand her. no matter which first step we take, we always live inside its aftermath.
i am staggered by this photograph, james, as though it is the only flower i need to know.
xo
erin
Deleteerin:
the innocent seduction ... and the last seduction ... i love her here most, too, know her here most intimately ...
you have expressed very precisely what i felt but did not know the words for ...
this is not the first time you have done this ... you know me impossibly ... not even a wife can know her husband so ... i think my blood is warmed and quickened in your body, and the only language i understand is born in your mouth ...
love:-))))))
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and yet (it may be an illusion created by that gentle light, filtered by the curtains), i don't feel any violent convulsions here, not even that they have taken place, certainly no tragic fight, no resistance, no despair... but a sweet and peaceful acceptance of life as it is, of the flow of time, of flowing into it, of letting oneself go with the wave of light, be it into darkness (as they are the same, eventually). then again, maybe i am still imbued with the japanese way of feeling, that lightness of being, far away from our dark existentialism (no matter how much that dark existentialism is a part of my own nature, maybe the most authentic, certainly the oldest, the first i can remember).
ReplyDeleteall this instead to say what it is enough: astonishing beauty, enfolding my heart -
Roxana: i think this peaceful acceptance of the flow of time becomes easier for me, these days -- or, at least, i see more clearly that the story is not my story, and the wave of light that carries me toward the darkness is not unkind :-)
Deletethank you for finding beauty here ...
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though i suspect that this is a kind of mantra i keep fluttering against my indomitable dark existentialism, with the sweet illusion that it might work its magic :-)
Delete