Estelle Moseley Photography

Estelle | 21 | Bournemouth | Guernsey | Photographer | Artist

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IT MIGHT NOT BE GOLD JUST BECAUSE IT GLITTERS

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Light Sculptures

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Mornings in Guernsey

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Missing my home <3

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Lines and lynes

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NOW YOU SEE IT

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BUBBLES - WEAPONS - RING

Bubbles

Soft ephemeral rings floating into the blue depths above, Reflecting glassy eyes and shimmering leaves, Peace was held in these small moments, Suspended in liquid circles, Dozens of mini planets free in the air.

A respite from life, The freedom to be, A life without weapons, A life without fear, A second without reality.

Weapons

Small weapons punching out rings of violent delight, Seeping into the skin of victims, Their last breaths floating away, As gone and forgotten as a bubble bursting into the light.

Ring

Wrapping around your troubled skin, marks of weapons, marks from within.

Bubbles rising, to the surface of delusion. Free yourself, then begin.

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Friday Mornin’ Experiments

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Before and After

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Olivia

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In the end,  it’s never who you are, it’s always who you’re going to be

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Nearby lies a child, in her mind whirls images of earthly expansion, in her touch lies the soft fur of another being. Wonder dances behind her eyes, but the bite of the earthy fruit is not as sweet. Empty space crushes the leaves that gave protection. Crumbling to dust, their scent is of rotting flesh, their sound- an echo of the future. Nature is not all as one. Mist creeps downwards as if time has frozen, its angelic descent enveloping the fixtures as the mud floor rises to greet. Lungs fail their purpose, perhaps as a rebellion to the mind. There lies a woman. Young, with childhood nearly visible like the froth upon the water that a boat leaves in its trail. In her chest beats the drum of time, yet her mind surrenders to an empty white blue sky. Clear free air welcomes a home in her lungs. An inner sweetness is carried away by the wind; the tangy touch of life bursts from every root. Whole chunks of sweet apple fill the cracks between her teeth. The energy of the canon will never compare to the bloom of the spring.

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