Writing
Photographing


Seasons of Violet.We called her Violet, and she was. We knew her when she was young and pale, during Fall And when we'd climb old trees, their brittle branchesSeasons of Violet.
Like welcoming arms Would snap in two And we'd cascade to the earthy ground Carpeted with golden and red and orange And as we fell,
Secretly, she'd wish with all the goodness in her heart That she were a leaf as well That like a leaf, she could be swept away to some distant place In arms that would not break In arms that belonged to people who truly loved her.
We called her Violet, and she was. And with th


The Invisible GirlShe holds the brushes, she holds the camera, she holds the moments, all in fragile hands, well trained, like spiders, dancing across her chosen instruments, creating, observing, molding, shaping, making, and she shows the love she has, what love she has left, in things of beauty, irrellevant, significant, perfect beauty, things nobody needs but her, things everybody wants but her, things of the imagination, unlike things of lesser artists.The Invisible Girl
But she is the invisible girl.
They see her work, &nbs
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...wait, did I just type that out loud?
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Thank you for being a member, we hope you get much fun and art back!
The best
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We have the conviction photography goes beyond the point and shoot.
Founder: =whenSmyledoesnttalk
=TThealer Administrator
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