tango
i went up to beacon today to pick up an old english vase i'd set aside last weekend while perusing antique shops with friends. i love doing that. you wander from shop to shop, waiting for something to say, hey, remember me? you've never seen me before, but you recognize me, you know me, we got lost along the way, but still, i belong to you, i'm not that expensive, so bring me back home. sometimes it's a vase with birds. sometimes it's an old footstool. sometimes it's a book you'd read as a child but completely forgotten. at the risk of sounding anthropomorphically romantic, it's dance, really, requiring chemistry and timing.
Jennifer König
5 Comments
Reader Comments (5)
Nice... I like that you went back for it. I have let too many somethings slip through my fingers...
That's it? I need more. I need to know what's in it now. Where's the footstool. What's the book.
I am high maintenance. I require more. I need more. Now.
there's a root ball inside the vase, from a weed bush i pulled out of our garden with my hands. it was a battle, with me and the weed, and i won. the footstool is out in the garden, waiting to hold our feet when we sit in the adirondacks. the books are everywhere, too many to name, too few hours to read.
Look beyond things, your photography captures the essence for sure.
Your words and images are always so interesting and inspiring.
PS - I nominated you for a kreativ blog award.... ;)