The Art of Nothing

DSC_0876

 

There is nothing to say, she laughs. The door swung on it’s hinges, uncertain whether to open or close. The window, wide-eyed, allowed the light to enter, but only with a certain discretion. Cicadas screamed. Over-ripe figs fell to the ground. The walls bared their souls. And the day passed away.

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Jetlag dreaming.

My first day back in Australia … and I’m running low on zeds. I love jetlag… it really does makes sense out of madness. I’m back on the shift. Raring to go. I’m afraid there is going to be a little retrospective of the last few months. It was awesome. What more can I say? Bare with me, or is that bear? Ah ..semantics. 

nude on tree

photo: Jeni McMillan