A little melancholy. A little meditation on red bamboo. Enough to explain myself this evening. Not enough to be different.
A pebble thrown into my heart made circles in my feelings. I now observe the course of life as a work of your art.
Digital art image of sanguine drawing on paper on creamy white background, representing a portrait of an aged woman wearing glasses.
I’m following in your footsteps. Where you were just now, I want to be there. I’m trying on your color. So that the spirit of the hunter will unite us.
I am fascinated by the dance of my beloved. The kids say, ” Mom looks like an Indian girl here.” I agree: “Well, yes, she is from the Mayan tribe!”.
I blush at sunset. Together with the sun, I hide behind the horizon.
I know my color-the light of the inner fire. And in the bud of my moods there is everything. Only you are missing.
I walk from the black stripe to the white one. And then I run back to you. How do I connect these two extremes? They’re both beautiful. To the point of ugliness.
Once a woman found a tiny chick. I brought him home and took care of him. Over time, the bird grew into a beautiful swan.
In your sun my lace. They’ll spin a web at some point. Searing light glides through the threads. I’m barely alive under the heat of it…
Inside me, the motive is simple. About the fact that the tiny Christmas tree is so cold in winter. Snow covers trails and tracks. I don’t know how to find my way home.
Music inspires us to new ideas and creativity. We dream when the soul sings.
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