Your hands bleed, the earth looks for a nest to retreat to and plucks its feathers, hits the beak with the stones until it comes off.
The hands bleed, there naked and although this against nature looks beautiful naked, that nudity will bring a new rebirth of feathers, you are that they will bring a new flight of a new beak that alienates the peace of its rebirth of time.
The hands bleed, and despite the complaints, they follow the rhythm of that wind that allows the eagle to be reborn, which will once dress in green feathers.
The hands bleed, because time is another, another path where the arms are filled with scratches of life, this one that changes the rhythm.
The hands bleed, yes, they must bleed with effort, so that the new green is the medal on their neck.
The hands bleed, hopefully they bleed in many lands so that the green one feeds the towns.
When we all assume that the earth is the bosom that gives milk and nourishes humanity, we will stop being so arrogant and our hands will bleed with joy, to prepare that earth in equilibrium, everything that will always be: earth, sun and water, no will carry chemicals, just love.
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.