Her beautiful silver hair tied neatly in a braid, she has a distant look in her eyes. She tells me stories that have been told for hundreds of years to the young, to help them separate right from wrong, virtue from sin, this from that, chips from hat… I am reluctant at first. I don’t think I want to be told. One never understands untill one has dirtied the hands. But I listen as I click a few pictures. I listen as the flavours of her faith pour down upon my reluctance and a story happens to me. From those stories she switches to these stories… her days in a village in the mountains. The golden days, she says, I smile. Some things are better now, she admits… but… some things… her voice breaks… she has lost more people than I’ve gained.
Story Of The Footloose 
straight to the heart of things… just beautiful 🙂
Thank you Maureen.
You’re welcome Prashant! 🙂
So beautiful. You are a compassionate soul and an inspiration.Your art speaks from the heart and this other,with many others i am sure, are touched.
Angel in the dust
Dear angel in the dust. I can’t thank you enough for your kind words. 🙂
Yes, a beautiful and precious story; the pictures hang like jewels.
Thank you Mathias. It’s good to hear from you. Your pictures feel organic to me. It’s a beautiful feeling.
Reflections..realizations…mind training..reflections..realizations…mind training..more reflections..more realizations..love..compassion..life..
Thank you Sidharth. 🙂
The entire circle of life in that last line…