joonavar

When I embarked on this challenge, I knew it would be just that.  What it’s turned out to be is so much more than that.  The challenge is overwhelming, as I battle against time and conflicting schedules.  What was supposed to be weekly slowly turned into bi weekly.  But I’m determined to not give up.  I’m a starter.  I start books.  I start writing.  I start projects.  I rarely finish.  But I am rising up and endeavoring to push past the blur that I often create in life.  I will keep reminding myself that life is about setting those goals.  Even when you feel you’re failing, you will always be a winner if you continue to strive to be that little better than yesterday.

Found my own brave today shooting a couple in front of a workshop.  I adore that this moment came out of the stage I set.  The moment was theirs and I was the witness.

click through link activated.

It seems like this image that I shot and featured on my flickr account has been seriously doing the rounds on Tumblr, according to my stats. Thank you for all your love!

We dipped our fingers into the ice cold water, fishing around to find a bean which hadn’t been opened yet.  With the sleep still lingering in the puffed up creases around our eyes, and the distant memory of a breakfast which was short lived, we would sit within corner of the kitchen which only felt the presence of breath several times a year.  Our fingers felt numb as we pinched the corner coat of the bean and squeezed the inner pulp out into existence.  Each bean, forced to give birth and thrust into a world where it’s only purpose was to fulfil the insatiable desires of others.  Behind us, the water on the stove would be bubbling in manic despair, fervently trying to cook each and every grain of rice.  The air would be filled with the mingling scents of the marinating chicken and the freshly cut dill, permeating through the kitchen and out the windows.  The beans were all we remembered.  They came to us laden in responsibility and an expectation to deliver.  When they came to us, they were blinded and cold, but when they left they were warm and naked in sprout.  Such were the days of our childhood, brimming with recollections from the tiniest seeds.

Let me steal this moment.

Compliments don't come as beautiful as this.

Little bee, little bee, the whispers between your toes are so enchanting. Please don’t fall. Your wings might not work.

I think your arms are pretty.