178



her secret lay
in letting others
seek her.

.
.

177



even their obscurity
she tended with light.

.
.

176



they were her dream,
and she theirs.

.
.

175


they remained susceptible to longing,
for bliss was but the shadow of desire.


.
.

174


with few exceptions,
they preferred the luxuriant,
the profuse, the fertile.
yet seeing that they would often
lose themselves within it,
she had her ways to remind them
of the essential.

.
.

173


many found her vague
or inapparent;
yet she was anything but.
whenever necessary
she would supply
the world as proof.

.
.

172


it was also necessary
to become aware
that blood
coursed through the veins
of silence.

.
.

171


for those who had lost sight of her,
she left a trail of tears
dappling the pale blue of the sky.

.
.

170


others found suns
where there was only light.

.
.


169


however brief, some would still,
occasionally, let the world
reveal itself as luminous.

.
.

168


and there were even times
when all that she could taste
was the bliss of an empty bowl of tea.

.
.


just so you know...



Wedding the images of Roxana Ghita with text by Michael Tweed, the beautiful foolishness of things is the gentle companion to however fallible: the revolution of everyday life.

Unless otherwise noted all images © Roxana Ghita, text © Michael Tweed.