It is a question.

Golden light permeates my eye lids. I thought I had pulled the curtain tight? I want to shut out the light--and sleep. I want to inhale the fresh scent of clean cotton sheets, it is a smell that makes me feel clean, too.

The voluptuous pillows circling my head, my body, with one tucked between my legs to make me feel safe and connected. No, these legs are not entwined with others. No, these arms are not holding another, and no, these are not meeting a pair of just awoken-sleep-filled-eyes.
This is me, on my own, all alone and satisfied.

As I reach for my clock, I pause for just a moment...it's an action (or inaction) I'v become accustomed to lately--stopping and taking in the moment, a simple joyful, purely-mine-moment.

The morning shimmer is still waiting to be let in and I finally release the anticipation and there it is: my world.

The breeze catches me on my right ear lobe, sending a shiver down my spine. I can feel the sturdy stone beneath my body and know it's presence is eternal. I have t wonder what it must be like to be eternal? Your destiny laid out before you--never moving but always changing.
Moments of time whisper in my hair as the scent of home trickles from m mind. The trees ebb as the wind flows through the foggy memories of swing sets and snow caves.

Where is the truth? The reality? Do I betray my senses and defy my own gravity? Words create images, images create memories and the question is: what will I create for my tomorrows yesterday?

Web album: Amnesty Int'l Human Rights Art Festival

This is the link for the photos I took this past weekend. Mostly documenting the amazing farm I stayed at but also capturing a bit of the festival activities too.


http://picasaweb.google.com/lh/sredir?uname=HSSheldon&target=ALBUM&id=5464998158286808321&authkey=Gv1sRgCPjm9PuQ4dromgE&feat=email

My New York