Surreal Thursday: Caravaggio at the Beach 2
Sitting on a brightly painted deck chair, staring out at the data waves rising up from the Ion Sea and rolling in onto the shore, Caravaggio ruefully smiled. The paint was peeling a bit, that didn’t matter at the moment. The blue surface of the sea shimmered as the emerald waves of data twisted and flipped their statistics above the the shoreline’s variables. Life wasn’t going badly for now, he thought, as he took a final sip of his pumpkin spice latte.
Rising from his chair, he lifted his arms with a flourish, then hesitated. The latte would work nicely. He threw it to the approaching waves. In response, the data waves eagerly leapt up into the air, weaving into a fine lattice that hung suspended just above the dry edge of the black beach. As Caravaggio began to masterfully paint in the lines and shadows along the fifth and seventh dimensional grid that he had laid out the previous day, he could see the airship Lester B. Pearson approaching.
The walls and sky took shape. He brushed out the Déjà vu smudges, allowing a large Arctic Tern to soar beneath the silver clouds. The airship was getting closer and the bird rose higher. The painter was confident that he could finish the next section of the grid before the airship arrived. Skillfully building up layers of information along multiple vectors increased the speed of the airship, but it also increased the size of the bird. Inspite of this, he was still unconcerned.
He had not, however, anticipated what would happen next. The tern suddenly veered from its gentle spiral to avoid an outcrop of urban blight that spread above a distant horizon line like a smokey haze. The bird, now the size of a mature eagle, was tracking the lateral line of the fourth dimension on Caravaggio’s left. If he did not work quickly , it would arrive in his peripheral past. He lightened the temporal patina in an effort to re-establish the tern’s original course. He adjusted the grid to track the lateral line of the fourth dimensional vector. Unfortunately, this would result in it arriving in Caravaggio’s short term memory.
Theoretical Physicist Brian Greene Thinks You Might Be a Hologram (choice of text or audio podcast)
As he adapted his brush strokes to increase the conceptual layer of the piece, the airship began to descend and prepared to dock at the CN Tower. Painting in an open window high above the Canyons of Toronto, where it could hang along the seventh spatial vector, would help stabilize most of the artwork. The painter vigorously weaved strands of hieroglyphs, hexagrams, and hexachords into his canvas. Just a few more brush strokes left to go, then the sound of approaching footsteps intervened. They were rapidly crossing the boardwalk that he had finished painting two days before.
“Peace be with you Caravaggio.”
“Peace be with you Beatrice. You are late. I had to start without your interface.”
“Anastasia and Naomi were finished early with the presentation, but there were problems. The buyers were not completely satisfied with d the app for the temporal pinhole camera. We made the sale, but our bonuses will be smaller than we had anticipated.”
” Well it is your fourth sale, if you include the Syncopated Eyrie.”
Caravaggio was growing uneasy. He winced as the bird’s shadow obscured the freshly painted window. The left grid lines became fragmented. Distractedly he only caught the last part of of Beatrice’s continued description the day’s events.
“…….. and that guarantees our data stream. We will be ready for the next synchronicity wave.”
The painter became aware of a large Arctic Tern flying in the distance. He would need to remember to incorporate the bird’s flight path into the next quadrant. Why hadn’t he thought of that before ?
Considering both Beatrice’s unexpected arrival, and the now rapid approach of the tern, her remark was an obvious swell of an emerging synchronicity wave. As Beatrice chattered on about the rise in popularity of Singularity Credits after Justin Bieber’s reality quotient imploded, Caravaggio picked up his cup of latte. He had barely touched it. Somehow that did not seem right. How had he forgotten to drink it ?
As he sipped the latte he became aware of a large Arctic Tern flying in the distance. He would need to remember to incorporate the bird’s flight path into the next quadrant. Why hadn’t he thought of that before ? The bird was almost as large as the lone hang glider soaring through the Toronto Canyons. Even the now disembarking airship passengers could be seen pointing at the bird as they made their way down the crystal titanium ramp-way.
“Anastasia says that she prefers Moncton to Moscow anyway. Oh and did you find someone to tune the harmonium yet ?”
As if on cue a discordant note rose up. It grew louder. They now were both watching the huge tern as it rapidly shifted in response to the sound of the harmonium. The bird’s shadow flew through the window as the bird dove toward the hang glider.
“Life’s a beach.” Caravaggio threw down his cup.
“True,” sighed Beatrice, ” but we will always have Toronto.”
Through the window they could see a record player. A record playing on the turn-table. They were dimly aware of Doris Day singing, just before the data waves flat-lined into monochrome and rust.
For those who may be a bit confused: See the previous Surreal Thursday post to understand how Caravaggio and Beatrice ended up in this situation or at least how the narrative began.
Surreal Thursday: Caravaggio at the Beach 1
For those unfamiliar with fantasy literature and why science fiction is an inaccurate literary term see blog page on this topic.
Thanks to Brent St. Denis for directing me to the tenth dimension (video).
Click images to see larger more detailed versions. Click links to extend your understanding and find surprises. The videos extend context of the narrative. Please comment/ ask questions. Enjoy the day! Hopefully another episode next week, when we find out what is going on on the other side of the window.
Surreal Thursday: Caravaggio at the Beach 1
Sitting on an Adirondack chair, staring out at the data waves rising up from the Ion Sea and rolling in onto the shore, Caravaggio smiled. The blue surface of the sea shimmered as the emerald data waves twisted and flipped their statistics above the shoreline’s variables. Life is sweet, he thought, as he took a final sip of his anchovy spice tea.
Rising from his chair, he lifted his arms with a flourish. In response, the data waves eagerly leapt up into the air, weaving into a fine lattice that hung suspended just above the dry edge of the black beach. Masterfully Caravaggio began to paint in the lines and shadows along the fifth and seventh dimensional grid that he had laid out the previous day.
The walls and sky took shape. A lone bird soared beneath the silver clouds. The only other object in the sky, an airship in the late Romantic tradition, purposefully flew through the clouds. The painter was confident that he could finish the next section of the grid before the airship arrived in the section’s first quadrant.
He had not, however, anticipated what would happen next. The airship veered off its scheduled course and adjusted to track the lateral line of the fourth dimensional vector. This would, of course, result in it arriving in Caravaggio’s peripheral past.
As he took this information in, the sound of footsteps could be heard making their way across the pebbled path that he had finished painting two days before. Looking along the spatial vector, he saw Berenice wave at him as she reached the end of the path and step off the edge of the data lattice. She was as beautiful as on the day Poe first put her description to paper.
She had legally changed her name to Beatrice, in an effort to establish herself as an independent character and a successful business woman in her own right. She did not what to have her accomplishments always qualified by the phase, “Poe’s Berenice“. The shadow of Poe’s genius was not completely withdrawn, no matter how many “nevermores” she declared or how hard she worked.
“Peace be with you Carvy.”
“Peace be with you Bea. You are early.”
“Anastasia and Naomi were finished early with the presentation of the new app for the temporal pinhole camera. The buyers were very satisfied. We will all get bonuses. You too! The Syncopated Eye is out performing their expectations.”
Caravaggio was growing uneasy. The open window he had painted was beginning to close as the airship flew past. Distracted he only caught the last part of of Beatrice’s continued description the day’s events.
“…….. and that guarantees our data stream We will be ready for the next synchronicity wave.”
The painter winced. Considering both Beatrice’s unexpected arrival, and the now rapid approach of the airship, her remark was an obvious swell of an emerging synchronicity wave. As if on cue, the sound of George Bernard Shaw playing his viola could be heard growing louder as Beatrice excitedly chattered on about Anastasia’s latest shoe fashion discovery and Naomi’s plan to go hang gliding from the CN Tower as part of her “Lost Canyons of Toronto” documentary.
The viola music grew louder. It was the second suite from the ‘I Ching“. The Synchronicity wave would be a big one. Beatrice finally took notice as the lone bird responded to the music and began circling the urban decay that had protruded out of the bottom of the clouds.
Caravaggio sighed and stepped back from the lattice. The work for the day was done. Beatrice pointed at the looming shadow of the airship as the data waves shifted up and down the lines of plausibility, like so many politician’s excuses and promises. Neither of them heard the music stop as the painted window completely closed.
Surreal Thursday: North Ontario Rock
When you live in North Ontario, you acquire a different perspective on things. You see things from a different angle. It is the rock. It juts and protrudes & intrudes from any variety of directions. It creates patterns that merge with the more organic forms that cling and grow on and between the rock.
Trees, shrubs, small plants, moss, and lichen live and thrive on and amongst the rock. Yes, it should be rocks, but really there is only one rock. The Precambrian Shield strong and united, even when fractured. It is one rock on which we stand, commute, build, work, play, and sleep. You never escape the rock.
The rock is everywhere, even when you try to hide it with pavement, concrete, asphalt, homes, schools, malls, and sundry buildings. It is older than dirt. More confident than the oldest tree. Only its sisters the sky and sea can compare. They however are temperamental, always changing. The rock simply is and will always be.
In North Ontario, time is measured by these things, sunlight, wind, precipitation, temperature, and the rock. The first four divide up human memory into manageable chunks. The rock measures out eternity.
Note: The original shots were all taken right next to the school parking lot, just a few feet from where I regularly park my car.
Surreal Thursday: Lachrymose or Hard-Boiled ?
Another Surreal Thursday, you can choose to be Lachrymose or Hard-boiled.
Lachrymose eye
Like an onion , sheds layers
Of moist emotions.
Hardened shells float,
Emotions bubble, surface -
Recognition smiles.
Lachrymose : 1. given to tears or weeping – tearful
2. causing or tending to cause tears – mournful
Hard-boiled :
1. to cook an egg in its shell until both white & yolk solidify
2. ungiven to tears or sentiment – tough, unsentimental nature
3. a literary style, most commonly associated with crime fiction (especially detective stories), and distinguished by the unsentimental portrayal of violence and sometimes sex . The central character in such a narrative is a hard-boiled detective, Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon.
Today has been a hectic day for a number of reasons. I had some upsetting news late in the day. When I am stressed, I either cook, bake, take photographs, manipulate photographs, scribble thoughts in a global stream or some combination of these activities.
I was planning today’s post, but the emotional charge modified the trajectory. I decided to see how many tags I could legitimately connect to this post.
Also, I noted that the BBQ season has started on the blogs, my BBq perogies post is getting hits again.
The poem is a linked haiku. Wanted to see if I could use the terms and tie it to the images. Did I mention how I handle stress ?
Surreal Thursday: Heavy Snow Expected Friday ?!
Well, it is definitely a Surreal Thursday. My daughter continues to be sick and my wife had to take her in to emerge. There is a bug going around and some are getting hit harder than other. This was the Canadian Winter that wasn’t and the flu season seemed to be the same. Oops, ………. we are getting hit late. Yes the first image is a modified screen shot of Environment Canada’s anticipated weather for late tonight and Friday, ….. SNOWFALL WARNING IN EFFECT.
A developing low pressure system over the central plains of the U.S. will track over Lake Huron on Friday and reach Western Quebec by Saturday morning.
This system is expected to bring a significant snowfall to the Nickel Belt and Nipissing region on Friday (April 20). Snow in advance of this low will begin overnight with snowfall amounts near 15 cm expected for the Elliot Lake area while the Nipissing region will likely see between 15 and 25 cm by late Friday.
The snow is forecast to taper off in western regions late Friday afternoon and near the Quebec border late Friday evening.
Please note, our snow storms, and other messy weather, comes from the U.S.A. . There is this misconception that all the bad weather in the States comes from “up North” (Canada), the same way they blamed us for those terrorists that caused the 911 attack. We send you Snowbirds who flock to Florida , New Mexico, and Texas. America supplies us with illegal guns and sitcoms& reality TV and we supply them with oil, legal gay marriage, hockey players, and not so legal grass ( from BC’s golden coast, where the Rockies have a blue haze).
As you can see, it is all very surreal. So here a few more surreal images to complete the day.
Surreal Icicle
Confused icicle doesn’t know which way the warm winds are blowing.
Elliot Lake Lookout & Fire Tower
Can you read the secret message in this image ?
Surreal Horse & Signs
How not to place signs when you install an eye-catching sculpture. Shall we say surreal ?
Click images to get a 3d surreal experience of Canada. You have to supply your own D , here is the 3.
Surreal Thursday: H. P. Lovecraft Gallery Walls
It is another Surreal Thursday and this week we a featuring images of the walls at the H. P. Lovecraft Gallery. We will only show you what is on the walls, not behind them. The first photographer never did show up back at the office. The second photographer kept muttering about the Rats in The Walls and Pickman’s Model. The third photographer came back with some very moving rolls of film. They finally stopped moving after we dipped them in Holy Liquid Nitrogen, boy does that stuff come in handy.
The second image may be the entrance to the gallery. We are not sure. The reporter had been a little incoherent about this . The gallery is located in Arkham or Gotham. It can be found on a narrow dimly lit street in many communities at any given time.
There is also some question about the wall displays – are images, windows, portals or somewhat alive? It is not recommended that you take children, the elderly, or frail individuals to the gallery. Class excursions are only of value to teachers with really difficult hard to control classes. You can buy Gallery Passes for annoying co-workers and critical in-laws. After a visit, you may want to see a headshrinker, next to the gift-shop.
NOTE: For similar posts check the H.P. Lovecraft & fantasy tags, or avoid them if you are so inclined. Clicking images will show enlargements most of the time: on occasion dimensional rifts have been reported, but they have stretched the Bounds of Credulity. The Bounds of Credulity will be performing in the Foyer of the Gallery, once they find the entrance.
Surreal Thursday: Window Views
It is another Surreal Thursday. Let’s take a look through some windows of the surreal and see what the view is on the other side of reality.
I See You Too
I Also See You Too
NOTE: Only domesticated window frames were used in processing of these images. They were returned to the widow frame farm where they spend the rest of their days staring out on tranquil nature beauty and majestic horizons. Click on images to an enlarged reality. Supply your own medication according to doctor’s orders or Nursemyra’s posts.
Surreal Thursday: On the Stairs
Stairways can be very surreal.
You never know what has been left
On the steps
To trip you up.
Stairs can be very surreal.
Your whole perspective on things
Can be turned around.
Stairways can be very surreal.
Every step a Golden Moment,
On the way Up,
or
D
O
W
N.
Note: Make sure to click the first image to see the enlargement.
Surreal Thursday: Motivational Posters
We have all seen them. Those motivational posters. The sell them at drugstores and online. They hang up in offices and classrooms. They are up there on bedroom walls and on the inside of lockers. Smaller versions become wall calendars or desk calendars. People recite the slogans/quotations/mottos like prayers & mantras. They are constructed realities designed to appeal to a target audience. They support values, beliefs, & ideologies, like any mass media text. Well today is another Surreal Thursday. It is time to look at things through a different lens.
In modern English, the lines from the John Donne’s MEDITATION XVII Devotions upon Emergent Occasions would read/look like this:
No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;
Remember written text is another form of mass media. It has codes and conventions. The text reflects spoken language. Spoken languages changes and so does the text. The text can be carved in stone, not so the spelling 7 grammar rules.
Motivational posters attempt to re-affirm or establish a set of values, beliefs, and ideologies. They do not explain how to act upon them.
For George’s son-in-law, and all those other people that do not realize that a photograph is both a medium and media content. It is a constructed reality that also supports the way we believe – or what to believe - the way the world is. Even a “Natural photograph” is a constructed vision or composition, just like a painting or drawing. They were photoshopping in the darkroom long before computers.
Surreal Thursday: From My Wife’s Sketchbook
My wife, Elizabeth Kanski, is a Secondary School Art teacher and artist. We are a small composite school in a small northern Ontario community. This means my wife is the art department. She instructs grades 9 -12, all levels, and all ranges of students. This year she initiated two new programs that she had to create from scratch. She is constantly expanding here range of skills and adapting to a wide range of students. They go from the potentially university bound art student to the special need student.
Last semester she initiated the Native Studies Grade 9 Art course. There was supposed to be extra government funding to help support getting materials and accessing local First Nation artists, artisans, and elders. The application went in last june. We are still waiting. Our principal must somehow balance his school budget to accommodate the shortfall. Some of the money came out of my wife’s pocket and the school is trying to reimburse as money arrives. Government funding is surreal.
The program my wife is initiating this semester is an integrated arts class for Special Ed students. They are creating masks and a variety of puppets. They are developing stories based on faerie tales and native folklore. The goal is perform at feeder schools in the area. Once again the ministry has wide open parameters, but she needs to create this from scratch.
As a teacher and artist she must continually learn new skills and then figure out how to present and instruct a wide range of students. This year she learned drum & moccasin making. She is now acquiring skills and information on black-light theatre.
This year my wife and I are both retiring. She thought she might go one more year. Her health and the recent sabre rattling coming from the Provincial Government has reduced her steam. She worries about the students she leaves behind. She will make herself available for the new much younger teacher who will be challenged to fill her shoes.
Enjoy these pages from her sketchbook. To teach you must be able to do and then figure out how to instruct to the needs of the student. Sometimes you sketch out or doodle out ideas. The art of teaching is staying surreal and real at the same time. Enjoy the day !
Surreal Thursday: Bus Report
Now that was how the day should have started; my daughter happily waving as the bus takes off for another day of school. It did not work out that way. The moon is looking full, a massive solar storm is heading our way, and it is Surreal Thursday. I do not understand, everything happens on Tuesday. Tuesday is garbage & re-cycling day and everything happens on garbage day. Come to think about, Tuesday was full of extra stuff. We were ready for Tuesday because it is garbage day. Thursday therefore caught us by surprise.
Let me set the scene. You need to know a few things first. Tasha attends a special needs school. If something disrupts her schedule we need to go through extra contortions setting up respite coverage. Part of the complication is that my wife and I are both high school teachers. She works full day and I work a partial day. Our school’s daily schedule rotates, which means some days I am working mornings and some days afternoons.
This week was particularly interesting – you know what they say about interesting times. Wednesday was early release day. Classes are shortened and students get released early. The staff then gets to do meetings and other PD related work. This Wednesday was the staff vs students hockey game, held that afternoon, after the early release. Wednesday also marked the end of the first quarter of the Semester. That means the Early Bird Reports on student progress are due on Friday; we are using new software that we are not too familiar with to fill out the report cards & it is taking longer than many of us are accustomed to. This Friday is the last school day before the start of March Break. Did someone say crazy as a March Hare ?
So I was having my morning shower and getting ready for the day. Let’s see, afternoon classes check. Go in early to do report cards. Software is not available for home use yet., all work on reports must be done at school. My wife calls to me to let me know that some buses are not running because of weather conditions. Rain and ice along the North Shore. Revise plans as I go to get dressed. My wife has gotten one of the respite workers – she will be available for the morning only. Revise plans again. My wife suggests the sweater I am wearing needs to be changed before I go in to school. My classes are in the morning. Revise plans again as I change clothes.
As we go over plans for the day i must adjust for possible library duty. Normally have duty at lunch in the school library, but because it is just before the Break, I may not be needed. Will not know till I get to school. Check calendar just before we leave. My classes are in the afternoon. Revise plans as we drive to work. Almost run over the March Hare who is gazing at the moon while awaiting the arrival of Intense Aurora Borealis.
At school discover my wife’s interpretation of day schedule was correct, classes in morning. Talk to Librarian, I will not be needed at lunch which means i will get reports done before heading home. Apparently the buses are running Tasha may have been able to go to school after all, depending on when they arrived.
Note: I got my reports done, except for one student (did I mention these are individual reports with personal comments?). Will need to do it in morning. I have some time(reports due at 9:00), classes in the afternoon( both periods in library, don’t ask). Tasha and I picked up Liz at 6:30, took her 3 hours to finish reports. I prepared dinner, lamb chops with mustard BBQ sauce, Remember to click on image to see larger version. George don’t laugh so hard, you’ll strain something.
Surreal Thursday: Crow-Magnon
The Crow-Magnon is a traveler, a messenger, and at times, a bit of a trickster. Through the window he flew to his lover, the Moon, carrying gifts of his devotion. His gifts were rare things indeed, the Bones of Contention, the Eye of the Needle, the Last Mile, the Masque of Noh Regrets, and the Lost Thread of Thought. She was pleased with these gifts and all was well.
Now you would say this is not much of a tale. Where is the conflict, the angst, the loss and recovery that make for compelling narratives ? I suppose they flew out the window.
Backyard Noh Crow
When the Moon became pregnant with her daughters, The Tides, Crow-Magnon became worried. How was he going to support a family, especially girls? Rare gifts were easy compared to the cost of dental care and dance lessons. At least the Moon had enough Beams and Shadows to keep their daughters in fine dresses for the rest of their existence. So Crow-Magnon did what he had to do. He fled back down through the window to find a pebble.
I can see that smile on your face. At last we have a hero on a quest for a magic object who will face many obstacles in his way. Well this is going to be quite the tale now. And you would be quite right. Crow-Magnon swam across the sky , past trees, clouds, and lanterns till he came to the Beach who was washing the Sea’s feet with pebbles.
” Mind if I take a pebble ?”, inquiring, as he planned how to snatch one when he was refused.
“Take as many as you like. I have thousands more where these came from.’”
So Crow-Magnon quickly picked the closest one to him. It was between the Toes of the Sea. The Sea sighed because, to tell the truth, her Toes were getting a bit irritated and were starting to complain loudly. This was causing Waves of Discord to run towards the receding Horizon. The Horizon was timid enough and ran away from everyone, so the Waves were aggravating an already bad situation. Would-Be Travelers were changing their itineraries. They could not afford the time and expense of a journey to some Lost Horizon. So Crow-Magnon’s actions, like the flapping of a butterfly’s wings, had quite the calming effect on the whole situation . As a consequence, Crow-Magnon was considered quite the hero by Travel Agents and their clients worldwide.
As to the smooth little pebble, he put it in his pocket and went looking for a wire to sit on. He had acquired this skill when he was at the circus hiding from disgruntled mountain ( don’t play bridge with mountains unless you’re willing to deal with the occasional rock slide). He sat there considering what to do next.
He was about to go looking for a pine cone when the Moon, now totally full, drew his attention. He quickly flew through the window back to the arms of his loving family. The Moon thought the pebble, which had no special properties what-so-ever, made a lovely earring. The Tides had perfect teeth and were naturally graceful. And as for the Sea, she and the Tides formed a Rhythmic gymnastic troop and toured worldwide.
As you can now tell, this was indeed quite the tale and as I said you were quite right. Well, except for the obstacles and the magic object, he never did get the pine cone. As to the veracity of this narrative, Crow-Magnon told it to me himself. So how should I know? I told you he was a bit of a trickster.
Surreal Thursday: Chain of Command
When establishing a chain of command,
Follow the lines of power
To their source.
Build on a strong foundation,
Construct clear pathways,
Establish a well delineated perimeter,
And make sure
That you have
No Holes In the Fence !
Note; I have been toying with variations of the construction zone image for some time. It needed something, but I didn’t know what: none of my other textures were working. Well along came a post from Sheila’s Aberrant Art, Take it, Try it, Tell me #1. Sheila graciously offered a texture called Black Screen to share and use. The texture was the missing link. When applied to the power pole shot I had a chain of associations that became this post. So thank you Sheila, hope others will visit your site to see your command of digital art techniques and what your imagination has constructed.
Surreal Thursday: Lines of Communication
We must keep the Lines of Communication
O – P – E – N – 2,
Or people’s eyes need not
Hear what we show them
With our Words,
Which Cling to our Beliefs
Like red ivy on wires.
Red ivy on wires
Electrifying our eyes -
Live wires look dead.
Surreal Thursday: Sightlines
Another Surreal Thursday,
Ostrich you glad to see me?
We must maintain proper sight-lines -
Keeping a Lookout
A Round Four Corners,
Peeking Ducts
Under Leaf.
Thinking Outside the Box
Never hurts Creativity -
Just watch for
Unintended Spaces.
Surreal Thursday: A Cat Among The Canaries
It is another Surreal Thursday and someone let a cat among the canaries. Actually there were two cats when I created the cats’ eyes layer many moons ago. I can not remember how many close up shots ( or how many birds) I took to get the feather layer that I used to create the pattern. It was quite a long time ago and it all seems sort of surreal now. If you click the image to see a larger version the feather texture is more evident. You will also see a the embossed hieroglyph effect in the matte. The Egyptian connection to cats and the tropical bird feathers lends itself to both colour and motif.
Surreal Thursday: Leaf, Water, Fire
It is another Surreal Thursday. This self-portrait find me a bit under the leaf. At least it so shows off my green eyes. The earthy tones of this shot balance out the the elements of fire and water in the next image.
Surreal Thursday: Self-Portrait 1
This the first in a series of self-portraits that will be part of my Surreal Thursday posts. I had created the self-portrait and thought it wasn’t quite right. I tried variations using three of my more unusual abstract textures . Today’s piece is called Through the Looking Glass and the texture is called strange glass. It is amazing what soft light and some strange glass can do for the complexion. I look years younger and all the stress lines are gone. Next week’s image will be a bit more organically grounded. I hope to have my second Existential Friday post this week, but it will all depend on the flow of events.
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