The Gallery

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Glimmers.

Burnt grass, yellow and green shoots against the baked ground, contrast. Contrast of transition as people work through it and seasonal winds change directions.

We arrived to a plane of different colors which in no real life could exist on the same field. Green in full bloom, with golden husk on the edges surrounding; patches of burnt trails where the fire once was.

And it all coexisted in the SAME plane. Going up and low and high and side on curving trails alongside rivers. All these colors coexisting at the same place - the yellow out of the brown and the green out of the yellow – all collapsing over each other, turning - around each other, maintaining their solidity at some places, only to blend with one another at their own chosen nooks.

How it felt again, is like swamps glimmering in the golden hour.

Open.

Glimmers, reside not in your days, weeks or schedules. They exist, in moments where you’d not want to be somewhere else. They’re cues, internal or external that bring you back to your Sense of Joy. Wonder. Safety. And where does that take us then? Possibility.

They’re the little moments that are the bigger moments in your life. Physically, it’s merely a faint or wavering gleam. Emotionally its …well you can tell me. As it’s felt.

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Lakes of Light.

A summer night road that bent around the river. The clouds undone, the sky unveiled, leaving a glimmering map of open stars in its wake. Flowing winds playing the river like its instrument; splashing in the gentlest of hums. The earth, radiant with Isakov and his moon - pulling on the hearts, as it pulls on the sea.

~

And it is on this night,

That I caught a glimpse of the Earth

As she bathed in the lakes of light.

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