pardon me.

i've been coupled with these great spirits for more than two years now and ... i can't express how good it feels to express myself freely in the presence of them both. it's like, grabbing a paint brush, dipping it in a pail of paint and splattering the liquid across a blank wall - freely, knowing the outcome will be unexplainably beautiful. thanks, God. you did this. there's joy in the morning. there is.

hey, you.

who's to say that life is meant to be easy? i'm sure it hurts the apple each time it falls against the soil that helped it grow. the soil that helped it grow bruises it when the branches let go of its own produce. who told that apple its fall would be heavenly? but its fall wasn't meant for its own good, no. that's selfish. its fall was meant to nourish a human being with its nutrients, even though its bruised. and that's sacrificial. the cycle that apples go through. for the sake of a human beings being. and although its bruised, worn and a bit beaten up, it serves its purpose. as a nutritious fruit from a vine that let go to help someone else grow. isn't it amazing, the way all of the earth gives service to all of the earth? this partnership, we sleep on it. the commitment we have with oxygen, we take for granted and treat it as if we don't need it. it's silly. the way we abuse the earth. it's crazy. the way we treat it as if we deserve it. it's funny because , humans do the same thing. to other humans. and feel absolutely no. remorse. i'm just a girl. walking on this green earth. picking up pieces to a puzzle that i have not yet come face to face with. and i stare. blank. because i'm in awe. at the wonders. of this world. don't be afraid or ashamed to look at yourself if you've treated humans as if they are worthless. we all fall short. we all forget the true meaning of love.

special mix.

there's something intriguing , about eating fresh fruit. something relaxing about it. something passionate about it. and the way they mix so well together. strange fruit coming together to make up a healthy and delightfully flavored snack, it's special. and very exclusive to me. i love fruit salads. especially this one. the way they felt while i washed them and sliced. i love the things of this earth. how did God decide which fruit would have seeds, how many they would have and what color they would be? i remember a friend asking me questions similar to these. we have such an artistic Creator. i enjoyed the collection of fruit. in this bowl.

she's telling your story .

in full bloom.

there's no explanation. this season springs a summer vibe that won't fall to the coldness of others. and i am in love with it. creativity. the kind that won't let you sleep. floating and lingering and dreaming of you when it daydreams. inspiration. the kind that won't let you rest. jumping and skating and rolling outside of others to find an adventure and a new way of life in you. let's make magic. between pens and paper - brushes and canvases - beats and words - fingers and keys - eyes and eyes. this is it. creative production is in full bloom. and i am only a petal. be the pollen. be the stem. be the soil. and You, You continue to be the sun. i can feel it moving in my veins, through my blood. let's move accordingly. freely. spontaneously. just don't look back.

two hundred-twenty seven.

runaway.

i bet you'd like to know.

you can't hide for long.

you can't run too far.

soon enough you'll see.

soon enough you'll know.

the Truth continues to follow.

the lies will alway haunt.

dreaming of nightmares?

satan is right there.

Jesus can wake you up.

Jesus will take you up.

stop right there.

because you can't hide much longer.

He's all knowing.

your limbs can't surpass the vast plains He created.

so stop there.

i bet you'd like to know.

where she gets her glow.

just stop racing away from the Truth.

He'll always know, it's you.

two hundred-twenty six.

weightless apologies.

apology,

what do you mean to me? or to them, i mean

how much weight do you hold when you are given

permission to leave my heart? do you lose the sin-

cerity that my heart once enveloped you with? why

hasn't change come from your release to his ears? to

his eyes? move from our mind to his heart because

apology, you're beginning to lose the respect and valid-

ity you once held, back when we didn't really know the

meaning of an apology. i suppose you're just a replica

of what nothing is , to all of us. even to yourself.

it would be best if i never read or felt or heard from you

again because you're weightless , moving at a rapid pace ,

leaving guilt and misery on many faces.

i'm tired of you using me.

i'm through with you hiding behind me. you're untrue.

not only to me , but to yourself too.

sincerely,

your former agent.

two hundred-twenty five.

"extraordinary journey of redemption."

he sacrificed his own life

to give her his heart, for eternity.

and as soon as that organ connected

with her body, the beeping sped up and the lines jumped.

he sacrificed his own life

to give him his lung, for eternity.

to breathe, he let go of one because he knew

he'd survive the loss of the other - the cost of life is priceless.

turned him lifeless and left passion filled tears

to slide out her eyes, roll down her cheek - as her body began to sink.

in a tub of remembrance, of this man. that man.

that sacrificed his life, to give her his own life.

in a tub of remembrance, of this man. that man.

that sacrificed his life, to give him his own.

as he rests, the rest live.

in a nature of gratefulness.

with a breath fresh air and a heart made to love.

they live. seven pounds more. they live.

a life more abundantly.

seven pound, suicide.

there is a tornado in effect, currently. and it's spiraling. from the height of my mind, traveling to the depths of my heart. can you see it? when your eyes peer into mine? can you feel it? when your arms take captive my being? can i control it, you ask. no. i can't. because, you've moved away too fast , i'm not ready. i wasn't ready. i'm ready. spiraling, this tornado has a mind - one of its own. and it riddles me. stirs up emotions that i deem nameless because they're too vibrant to carry names with. tornado. slow down. you're causing a destruction that my hands won't be able to clean up. to reconstruct. to heal. i see what you've done to joplin and the threats you made to arlington, tennessee. but in me, you've gone bizzerk and my palms are too tired to grab hold of you, entirely. hands covered in tears that have been shed. for months on end. and end. they must end. tornado. you must end. and if you. if the dryness of this tornado produces precipitation the size of a sunflower seed, i'd stand. up. i'd chant. out. i'd smile. because, i know. i know for sure. that its felt what i felt. i know for sure. that it cares. i'll know for sure, that you care. even if you. disappear. even when i disappear. i'll know. that at one point. we cared.

two hundred-twenty four.

cold, wooden door.

and i can hear the door

shut

over and over and over

each day,

it becomes louder than the day before

and that's when the sound draws nearer

to reality

and its symbolism rings true to everything

that's bottled up.

door slam. door shut. door, closed.

for good.

the chain - ingrid michaelson.

"i can't promise that if you come around again , i'll take the chain from off the door."

first Love.

the next time she walks around appearing to be confused and detached and you're fearlessly in pursuit of bringing her back, don't believe her when she tells you this, "i'm not ready for whatever it is you have to give." she's lying. and what she really wants to say is, "i'm ready for all that you have to give, i'm just afraid." and her language might drift into one ear and escape out of the other, but these are words she does not know how to communicate to you, the one she loves. and the truth is suppressed and her emotions are fleeting. there's only one person known to keep her grounded. so i urge you, to listen and to take captive the words she chooses to set free in your vicinity. carry them along with you and decode them. trust not the surface and always question why. because there's a greater truth that lies behind the words of the woman who travels around, looking confused and detached. bring her back. i'm asking You to bring her back.

two hundred-twenty three.

the late escape.

it's like,

trying to run through quick sand

knowing the thickness of its consistency and

the quickness of its sinking.

so i start sinking, as i keep attempting to

run , as far away as i humanly can but

i don't stand a chance , this quick sand's

got me - pulling quicker than i can think.

and this image has been on repeat.

over . and over. and over again .

quick sand won't let me stand.

my life right now.

is spinning ... and this is exactly where i need to be.

mattias and klynn.

... and i wouldn't change the chapters in my life that are filled with the name matthew and kori. i wouldn't re-write, re-photograph, re-draw, or re-spell the patterns that they've formed and the imprints they have made in my life for the past years they've shared my life with me. and had i not unwrapped these two beautiful gifts that God sent via express mail to me, i couldn't scribe the words that i am right this moment. sometimes though, i think they love each other more than they do me. cheers to friends that are not fleeting.

if memories were as vivid as these shades' reflection , life would be . some way different.

two hundred-twenty two.

img_2025-edit.

each color. each tone. each angle. each shade.

they all collide and combine into a beautiful

fairytale that only makes sense to the eyes

behind the viewfinder. it's a mysterious secret

that only we can make sense of - the shooters.

i enjoy the stylish art of photography.