Return to sender…
window
409.
I liked the contrasts in textures here – the shaggy sash, with the gridded screen in the background, and then the softer out of focus foliage behind that. Just another small scene, from a small cottage, that reminds me of the importance of taking time to notice…
308.
Sometimes the only appropriate response is wide-eyed, slack-jawed awe. I saw this, and there I was…
199.
Window oddities…
144.
There are curtains twitching in the corners of our vision, on a still afternoon in the forest…
140.
There are strange reflections, hiding deep in the forest…
029.
We push open the cracked door, and listen to it complain as rusty hinges bite. The greenhouse is old, dusty; plants are spilling over their baskets reaching for the ground. After a few minutes, I look outside; the sky is gone. So are the hills and the trees, lost in a thick, damp fog.
It’s as though we have skipped a season, time moving faster outside than here with us. But that’s okay: I’m warm, I’m dry, and I’m with you.
013.
Some thoughts move quickly, and I catch only glimpses of them as they flash by. Others sit, plump, hanging in the air for what seems like hours. Speed does not correlate with quality, either… these relationships are harder to fathom, more obscure in form and function… all I know is that it’s important to be ready, to be observant, so as not to let them slip away, unnoticed.
002.
There is still life, and then there is very still life… so still, as to be frozen in time.
A slice of life, somebody’s life, tells its own tale of simple work, simple outlook, simple ornamentation. A simpler time, perhaps…
001.
Time to start again. To throw open the window and let the chilled air in. To look out without knowing what to see, or where to go. Let’s see what’s out there…
Timothy Moss 