Golden Hour

A golden hour

On one side, promise,

on the other side, hope.

a song

the music of this mist is such

that what can’t be seen,

can be felt and most certainly

will not be forgotten.

CYH No.4

…Fallen pines to shape the skyline
Take me there
Beneath the barren colored moon

Quit all that looking back
I quit all of that..

- Gregory Alan Isakov, Berth

adieu spring

A transitional season, with all colors on display. The northwest might just be heading into Summer, finally.

Details #2 Light Catcher

For whatever reason, I’m fascinated by this building downtown. It’s weird, and interesting, and not really that photogenic, and yet, I keep finding angles I love, beautiful lines, shapes worth sharing.

I feel this way deeply about people too. So often, despite our progressive perspective, we overlook the details and thus, miss out on the diverse beauty that exists both externally and internally. We’ve got our narrow definitions, not realizing life is kind of more of a thesaurus, and less of a dictionary. We’re still doing what we’ve done for millennia.

Our inability to see nuance robs us of the richness found in who we encounter day to day.

Sure we’ve got some assholes in this lovely world of ours. And we all get irritated at the people who seem to have it all and whistle about it. I’d argue we need those people to show up too, just to keep us understanding where the parameters are, flowing in and out of all the in between.

Woods

Wooden memories in the mist, until I find myself there again.