Retrospective

Compulsions can make me intransigent, especially those desires to glance backwards in time.  Once in a while, someone walks into those spaces of nostalgia and creates an illusion of normalcy.

physiognomies

Sometimes a tree is just a tree, and a branch is just a branch.  Sometimes parts of a tree look like faces, fish faces.  Sometimes a silly fish face...

Sometimes a menacing fish face...

Fairchild Tropical Botanical Garden II

And for those who just can't live without the idea of a black & white botanical garden, here are a few of my favorite images from that day...in color.   The glamourous skin of a Rainbow Eucalyptus tree, and a plant with a lovely burst of orange. (The previous post has a black & white version of this image.)

Fairchild Tropical Botanical Garden

Yesterday was my last full day in Miami, and I spent a few hours roaming a few acres of edenic ersatz.  If you have a chance to visit these botanical gardens, don't pass on the opportunity.  The vegetation is as lush as the critters are lively.

the daybreaks...

Sat on the beach early this morning and greeted the day.  

And despite such a colorful breach of the darkness, I imagined the spectacle in a monotone hue closer to my mood.

Then glanced again without a filter, and was disappointed by the fiery reality.

Eventually I settled on the idea that the morning colors add an unnecessary confusion to my perception. So, I decided to simplify the view and sift away the distracting intensity.

I smiled and went about the day.

Road Trip

Off on a work-related adventure down South, and I don't know if I'll be able to post much for the next week.  But, I will be back....

a hand-made face

While contemplating my daughter's artwork...from a few perspectives I asked her, "Whose face is this?"

"You can't tell?" She shrugged.

"Papa! It's obvious" She pushed.

I just moved my head from side to side, as I draped some yarn over her brow.

"Paaaa-pa! It's an african-american grandmother," she smiled.  So I picked a filter and returned the smile.

"It is whomever you want it to be," I winked.

Spoken Words

Last night I ventured into DC for a series of poetry readings at The Big Hunt's basement lounge, and was able to catch up with a few friends from yesteryear.  Steve read from his newly published The Luckless Age.

The evening began with Belarus native Valzhyna Mort reading some of her work.  Her delivery was mesmerizing and her poetry was absorbing.  I was nestled between three of her students as I listened in.  

I became an instant admirer as she stole the show.

The rest of the evening was full of conversations, merriment, whispers, glances, synecdoche, metaphor and some smiles.  The creative energy in that space and the general atmosphere of the city were a welcome change.  On the cab ride home, I lamented leaving the words behinds.

contra dichos

Entre labios y lenguajes, me llegan esos pensamientos.
A veces cuando me tientan, pues... se los regalo al viento.

Pero cuando los secretos se reflejan en el parabrisas, los labios me tiemblan...

y no sé qué mas decirte.