piece signs

I’m prone to ramble in those little comments boxes. This will not come as news to those people I visit regularly. But this is the first time a comment has grown into a post of its own. When I saw this recent image in the box of delights that is grey dandelion feather, my mind went into flood alert.

I'm not religious, but certain scraps of christianity come together when I see this. The shroud of turin, stained with the blood of the crucifixion. Warnings about original sin, and the spilled juice of the first forbidden fruits.

I see innocence. But innocence lost, or innocence stolen never to be returned to its rightful owner. Kissed laid gently on skin that never sees the light of day. A well intentioned touch that burns and leaves a scar.

I picture a beautiful woman walking through the sun, fan in hand, caught in a downpour - washed suddenly from youth to old age.

I’ve said too much, I haven’t said enough. But I’ll stop, and leave some breath left in the room for you to make of this picture whatever you will.