MAY 21, 2015

Wisp

A wisp of fog rising from a stream hidden deep in the woods signals to me to look at where I am. The silence of the Tuscan evening, the last light, and the fragile note of the vapor’s trail. Sometimes it is astonishing to see what calls me to attention. The smallest thing can be the lever that lifts the significant moment from the broad generalizations of reality.

05-21 L1029211

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