"These flocking swans, these naiads, rather, fly or dive." - Mallarme (Read the whole poem here)
The vast lake of flocking birds fly high into the sky of the blue abyss. Like a giant white cloud they soar through the skies in search of a better place because the winds are changing and the weather is getting cooler. The colder months brings sorrow for those not travelling. Flying to a climate more favorable.
Free write about a time that was a moment of awareness or monumental for you:
Unsettled and constantly pining for memories, I lie awake at night longing for my memories of a home that no longer exists. Friendships I have gained and lost. Returning to an already familiar pattern of constant change. I gather. I seek. I travel. Meeting. Saying good-bye. The cycle of impermanence continues.
Alaine in the Studio from Alaine Handa on Vimeo.
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