you wear an ancestor's face. you look like a woman you'll never meet. in that mirror, there's thousands of you. and in the bath, when you look down, she looks back, shaking and deforming in the ripples as she lies beneath the surface.
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you wear an ancestor's face. you look like a woman you'll never meet. in that mirror, there's thousands of you. and in the bath, when you look down, she looks back, shaking and deforming in the ripples as she lies beneath the surface.
“From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.”
— Edvard Munch
Hands in the Dirt
Block print, 2017
by Kelly Louise Judd
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Through the deepest nothingness, dancing with the Invisible ~ © Ysambre fauntography 2018
“We are the eyes of the cosmos. So that in a way, when you look deeply into somebody’s eyes, you’re looking deep into yourself, and the other person is looking deeply into the same self.”
— Alan Watts
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And the trees know your name
And the trees know your name
🌿🌿🌿🌅🌿🌿🌿
Life is inherently magical. We are the children of stars, nurtured by earth, an oasis in the vast desert of space. The water that flows through your body has been here since the dawn of existence. You are electricity; you are consciousness; you are alive.
faint starlight, a guide, for those lost in the night. small difference it makes when set against the sun– blazing glory spares no thought for those shadow-bred stars– but to the pilgrim who stumbles through unfamiliar woods, to the deer who leaps across the rushing black river, to the mouse who watches for the owl, silent wings traced in stars, it means nothing less than life.
by liskin_dol