The soft, gentle midnight breeze

reminds me that you’re far away from me -

uncaring, unscathed, totally free.

It makes me wish I could take that same approach. How long for indifference and no reproach. But I bleed red into my art -

it stops me from falling apart.

like a vase sat on the highest shelf.

All I need is a slight push to destroy myself.

To shatter it to heal.

To love is to feel.

Lif...

(Not entirely sure how the picture inspired this but it did so enjoy)

It was known as the festival of roses. The festival of love.

We have a tradition in Regalia.

During the summer, men grow roses for their chosen women they wish to marry.

On the night of the August full moon, women stay in their homes and bake and get themselves all dolled up.

Then the men go the house of their chosen girl’s do...

‘It’s almost like the figures are moving!’ And ‘the brush strokes are beautiful.’ We hear these words on a daily basis. What they don’t know is the figures actually are moving. Ever heard that Mona Lisa follows you with her eyes? Yep that’s probably true. Us paintings move and feel things the way you all do.

The painting up there? That’s ‘The field of greens and reds’ my home. It’s amazing isn’t...

Swirls of color paint the town, the time when Peace and Joy ought dance around. Healing families and giving hope, by being You and being the YOU who you are Created to be, in this life!

In this life! Now, not tomorrow. Now. We have to own it. “Own who you are.” This was a major boon and feed to my Spirit when I wrote my first book. Twenty years ago.

Own who you are. Vision’s Expression A motto...

The reds spilled out of the can onto the pallet tempting him, tempting him. But the brush in his hand wouldn’t move no matter how hard he will it to swing and swirl. All was black, even his breath. All was not well, his chin drooped and a tear rolled down his cheek. No green greeted his eyes as they shifted to the window. Bare trees with branches broken. Craggy grey sky. No one walking by . ....

I want to live in the place where you can see sounds and smell sights. The beauty of being immersed in every sense. Red felt like love, blue feels like peace… Where is this place? It is in every painting, every photo taken, every breathe that is released. Breath in and exhale your wildest dreams....

Blistering smoke

Richly strokes me

Making my skin velvet

Watercolour

Leaking

Perfect portrait

Celebration

Not so

A culture I celebrate

Cloth cools me

Religious pledge

To my dna

Mixed sights

Mixed sounds

Mixed race

All perfect

All whole

All complete....

The scene was glorious. To the ordinary person, all they would see was the whiteness. The frigidness. To them, it would be empty. Like an empty house with white walls and no heater. Only coolness. Empty, white, and freezing.

I see the colors. Each and every shade as it bounces off of the snow as if it was a trampoline. Simply reflecting.

The freezing wind rushes across my face, adding a crimson t...

Stores filled with endless fabrics, their vibrant folds shine amid the arid desert surrounding, spices stacked high in such a way that a slight bit of wind, one might think it would all blow away.

Colours shining among the sandy terrain, glittering and beguiling the area, it became such a festival due to the lights, shining as if an oasis in such desert.

Some rather known stalls stacked metres...

In this community, once a year was an event that noone would miss. It was a celebration of life and spring and seasons in general. It was also a celebration of love and a lot of weddings took place at that time too.

They called it the resuscitation of spring and all took place around a giant tree: the tree of spring.

This particular tree has been planted for generations before it could serve for...