TONIGHT I am feeling as fragile as these white petals. Waiting for a breeze to knock me loose, hanging on the only way I know how - through instinct and the longing to belong.
I feel as if I am in the middle of something - a place in life halfway in-between - where everything will either get really good or really bad.
Maybe it's because I edited 19 obituaries in the past two days and I'm wondering what I will leave behind.
Will it say "avid blogger" in my obituary? Will it say "she liked to tear apart books and let them rot in Oregon's winter rain"? Will it say she could cry looking at flower petals? Will it tell the truth and say "she only liked to cook for parties"?
Click on the picture and enjoy every nuanced shadow of every petal and let me know if you feel the same way. Do you feel temporary, transitory, transient?
A big "T" for me tonight - femminismo