The promenade where all other selves can rush wildly into oblivion

 

My mother piles the quartz high against all the window panes of the house

The body of a young man withers before a neon shopfront, escalating into disappearance.

Two polar bears balance each other as they amble slowly, gracefully towards the pathway of the silent forest.

 
 

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They’re in each other all along”

-Rainer Maria Rilke

 

 
Rebecca Rose Harris, Rebecca Rose Harris Photography, Rebecca Rose Harris Portrait
 

When everything is cast aside, preserved and altered, the stretch of open spaces hold for us reflections. There is knowledge in the silhouettes and wisdom in the movements that carry the voice of the beginning, that carry the extension of an earth inhabited.

 
 

 

When time

Was the dawns’ break -

Of a blue we could hold.

.

A landscape welcomed