“You have to come see this,” John said. He stood at the open sliding door to the deck, looking up. “All the colors bright as can be.” The sky was wild, blue and orange, with a beautiful eerie light that felt significant. The rainbow shot through it all as if it belonged there, even lighting…
I should pity the white flower. Even a pansy adds color to the world. The common mugwort, too. The bittersweet nightshade. What life does the giraffe with a short neck live? The whippoorwill with a soft voice? I suppose the white flower is a flower in this minimal way, a subtle presence in the whoosh…
Wind blows the mist halfway up Murray Street, and I’m wet with the falls before I see them. People line the railing to see the fast water crash continuously, loudly, mist flying into the bent light. Colors hover over the scene. Colors rush from the water dropping through the sunlight. A boat drives plastic-covered tourists…
G Bebs / Photographs 