Exploring the garden in the morning as the dogs do their duty as sentry, investigator and destroyer, I find myself seeking some perspective I've not seen before, or attracts me again and again.
In the contemporary tradition of selfies, I noticed one of the mirrors in the garden is slipping into otherwordliness...
I love this piece hanging on a garden wall. Slowly it's being consumed by age and algae. Seems only right that I celebrate it's journey. Not sure what it is but I find this little item full of mystery.
Not enough of that in the world.
Your vision and language is getting even more poetic. In the mirror image, if I didn't recognize that your hands are gripping a camera, I might think they were tensed in frustration, rage, anguish---maybe at being trapped in the "other world."
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