Words can paint, each letter, a bristle of a brush. The sentence becomes a stroke. Paragraphs shape objects. A portrait needs no beginning, middle, or end. When we look deep at a painting, we can’t help but wonder why the Mona Lisa smiles. If you look deep enough at portraits, close enough to pick out desire, they jump out of the frame. The frame is the story. Break out! Break out!
Her arm, a light porcelain, marbled with a series of veins and arteries. Sometimes she thinks she’s cold, a stone. She takes a sacred bath, a bit too warm for many, candles burning messages into her sweat, to see through the cold, if she…
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Click on image to enlarge. Taken at Cattus Island County Park, N.J. in November 2018.
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Daily images uploaded on Instagram. Follow @undeciduous on Instagram.
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Click on image to enlarge. Find a book I’m in here. More images to be found here.
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Woman King More images here.
He’s moving to a song he knows and it’s a song we’ve heard before but can’t place. As he moves, the sweat, sores, and scratches stay in place. What’s inside him is externalized. He doesn’t care about our inner secrets, our inner fears, our…