Chrysoprase

There is magic in the air. It follows in ways when I walk through such foreign streets. It seeps into my soul and gives my body the rhythm to simply move. I traveled to a place I've never known. A magical city once unknown. And now that I've had a taste, a sense of it's authentic mystery, I am forever amused. I rest, sitting at the French Market, alone. He separates the oysters from it's shell, it's home. He stops to stare for a brief moment, like the sparkle of the most beautiful sea. His eyes are endless. I'm filled with a sense of belief. Serenity is our religion. I sit here and write, take in these last, lasting moments in oh, sweet New Orleans. This soulful fire of a place, I admire as I am ever so drawn to it's ethical lifestyle. There is nothing at all like it and I am confident there will never be. 

New Orleans, Louisiana

September 16, 2011

Lambrusco

And I wonder why the shadow forms so bold at times, so deeply detailed, never leaving. Like that of a mirror portraying a soft figure. Reflecting a stained shadow memory of two intimate beings entwined by darkness and embraced by light. Shadows, how the creation of such romantic cinema can be so. Yet only to find that despite each extract motion and every soft movement, all performs is as it should in life. For the shadow follows always. As does every result, every exhale, every stare, only leading to a restful moment to breathe, again. So I wonder not so much of why the shadow but more, I understand the beauty of it and what shadow offers when the light beams through, a moment in truth.

La Canada