~ catkins on the wing ~

spring has come and i could no longer resist. to sit on the post-winter grass, sharp yet soft, to breathe in the scent of river. to find catkins that recall all the homemplaces, all heart-warming thresholds.
a seagull landed. a butterfly fluttered. a bumblebee flew and disappeared. a duck looked around. a beaver swam. an ice floe floated to my shore and turned, and then floated further.

i sang going through my playlist. recalling the well-known, saturated riffs and passages. serenity. sunwarmth. being.

green angels of bieszczady mountains. by the edge of feather.

i'm being heathenly unproductive. lost the count of days. i guess i'd use some resocialization after the last weeks, too. mind somewhere. laces on the wind.

flutter. flutter. gone.

~ unsilence ~

bridges we under the veil of night

thrown over to each other
are now torn by the dawn

two heads i bought on arvika's flea market, the ones from one of the previous entries. just painted. arionized.
day and night. the dichotomy that fascinates me and always makes me wonder.
i broke munch's moon on night's forehead and made the motive more mine. dunno if she cries with falling stars. i let it remain so.
and both marked with hour 12, the most dual hour on the clockplate. at least that's how i experience it. the brightest day and the deepest night. yet both faces are identical, only painted differently. and both have their centres in the very same hour, though completely contradictory, it's situated in the same place and described by the same word.

i'm so away today.