For aince it’s toomed my hert and brain, the thistle needs maun fa’ again.
by posthumous

Comment by daisydavid:
You certainly are a lost wandering charmer ;) I like the tension between your realising the feelings and emotions of what was, the reconstructed, and the eternal sense of bewilderment of what is the now, coming to a compromise realisation that you have been here all the time. Home as an elusive end that drives the now, helped and hindered by the romantically reminisced past. I'm glad you used the same scenes and reconstructed the story, something I feel I do a bit as well.

The Life of Pi
by posthumous

Comment by blindjustice:
Excellent reflection in the window. not what you might expect- much more bucolic.

treenetic
by posthumous

Comment by tnun:
yes. very boldly done.

For aince it’s toomed my hert and brain, the thistle needs maun fa’ again.
by posthumous

Comment by jin_tonic:
Thanks, posthumous

...lost in the forest of who we all once wereâ€Â¦

A direction without a path,
the end indistinguishable from the beginning.

We saw a bird on a branch,
a bird on the shadow of a branch,
a painting covered with branches and shadows.

But the lonely, unlost thing, so well defined, missing

Lost in the forest of who we all once wereâ€Â¦

but the sparkling flowers, the dancing leaves, the lonely dawn walk, the silent shadows, the fuzzy skysâ€Â¦.

We know, We finally are here.

Thanks, posthumous

The Life of Pi
by posthumous

Comment by tnun:
titular.

treenetic
by posthumous

Comment by Ivory:
Looks like it could be a painting, gorgeous reflections.

The Life of Pi
by posthumous

Comment by NiallOTuama:
Hah. I missed the portrait part in this one. It seems it wasn't a mistake at all!

For aince it’s toomed my hert and brain, the thistle needs maun fa’ again.
by posthumous

Comment by MargaretNet:
PH, a bit long but nice

The Life of Pi
by posthumous

Comment by PaulFrocchi:
this made me smile.

For aince it’s toomed my hert and brain, the thistle needs maun fa’ again.
by posthumous

Comment by ubique:
It swooped around me. Just when I felt I was looking in the right direction, you disappeared, and then came up behind me, passed me by with a sort of chuckle. Or maybe I disappeared, and found myself approaching you, or where you'd been moments before, afresh.

I never quite felt oriented. But there were lines of force crackling all around, though not very loud. Just loud enough.

Henry's right, about the pact between the pictures and the words. I felt like you were teasing, in places, but you often have that will o' the wisp quality.

I did not follow everything. But I don't think I was meant to follow. I don't think that's what you wanted. It was more like a hall of mirrors (slightly ugly characterisation, sorry), with a different Don in every mirror.

Your reaction to your own pictures is very like your reaction to PH Award pictures, brevity and pith. A sort of distillation.

There were some beautiful allusions though; stand alone sparklers. The energy of the mystery ... Lost but comfortable, et al. Parts even greater than their sum, perhaps.

And, "This is what it looks like from my brain, someone is running toward me like he is trying to become me."

But the most beautiful of all was, "the calamity hardly seen, a volcano that fits in your hands has ruptured, has surrendered what's inside of it,"

An essay wrapped in the spirit of its subject. A philosophical onomatopoeia.
Thank you.

ETA I forgot to say, the pictures are more lovely for the words. No surprise there, but I mention it for the wretched souls who insist that a picture needs no words, nor even title.

Message edited by author 2015-01-04 02:02:19.