The tree, stopped there in time, only waits for a star to guide its way to the river, the one with long sleeves that takes the savannah in the Apure, that star that lets me see that my heart is small, is filled with a savanna sigh.
The mirror, the one where the bare trees want to have a new outfit, if the cloud will remember the poor.
The poor, with their children in their nests, pray for a few drops to paint the dress green, and leave the bread under their arms for their children.
The cloud, as a good father, fights against the paradox of the world, seeks by all means to bring the cup to his table.
There on the ranch the triplets wait, who pray with yellowish rags, their old woman who after millions of births still wants to wear a green dress in front of the mirror of the world.
The world just spins without stopping, it goes on and on because its path is time that should not stop, because with it the cloud will be able to bring the drops to the glass so that the family can bring the table to the table and the green dresses bring that new Beauty time.
Winter is the old woman, the father and the children who have toasted with the glass full of greens.
The beggar is the bare tree, which scatters in its branches the nests full of children.
The mirror, is the world that will let you see that you are all those who are in front of a mirror and do not wait to see yourself praying, only the good father who feeds clouds.
The one who writes these doodles made letters, is only the madman who looks at the world from the mirror and prays, so that the cloud comes with his glass and the greens are reborn in his letters. Summer is strong, poor tree.
Lent: Leica 1: 2.8-3.7 / 7.4-88.8.
Location: Villa de Cura.
Original photographs of willsaldeno, I do not edit the photos, because I like to put only what I achieve with the camera and not something improved with an editor.
