The Hemingway Day. Take Flight.

Often I point my camera at the sky and my finger finds its way to the shutter. Time and again I am greeted with a photograph that immediately falls victim to the delete button, but once in a while a little gem appears, with a perspective I hadn’t seen before. Sometimes in life, all you need to do is look up…

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Take Flight.

In here, light led the escape.

Staring Contest.

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Day 19 of photography101… ‘double’.

Staring Contest.

The glint of his eye glistened as mine flickered, the ink of his pupils darted where mine dashed, and the lids of his eyes shuddered as mine shivered. This was not a contest for the timorous.

 

Pane.

 

Remembering childhood again thanks to The Daily Post

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As I have been caught amidst a whirlwind of weddings and autumn colds I have decided to combine the last two assignments with this one vignette. The task was to describe a favourite meal from childhood, and a childhood home. So here is fruit pastilles and a house at the side of the forest…

 

Pane.

Blades of grass erupted from the ground beside the doorway and continued as linear soldiers across endless metres until the forest floor interrupted them with mud. At the bottom of this greenery a colossal mass of trees extended into the daunting never-end.

Her bedroom window offered a viewfinder into the mysterious world that loomed at the end of the garden. By moonlight the world whispered an infinite abyss of darkness in return. Her four foot frame would fit cosily within the nook of the windowsill. Her nose would turn pink pressed against the cool glass, puffing winged steam trails with every exhale. In her pockets she would find week old fruit pastilles bought by the father she missed. They granted sweet comfort as she held them on her tongue, sucking the sugar crystals, prolonging their life for as long as possible.

She would find flickers of movement. Watching her watching them. Until she would turn off the lights and let the darkness envelop.

Day 44.

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I set my heart on building a library in my home when I began planning my dream abode in a sketch book at my Aunt and Uncle’s house one summer when I was eight. The plans were over ambitious and immensely excessive, not one room measured under ten metres, but in my driven, one might say naive, mind they were completely obtainable. I don’t have the library, yet. But upon discovery of this curtain I am certainly closer than I have ever been before. #100happydays #day44