there's a humbling comfort in knowing you're being anchored to this world by the same gravity as your loved ones thousands of miles away, to know you're making wishes on stars your ancestors used as maps
I painted a woman,
With flowers growing from her neck, Flora her language, Her thoughts become petals, Giving and collecting love, Swiftly as pollen caught in the wind, Roots cut deeply, Not in soil but her simple being, Growing where she's planted, Yet helping shape the ground she walks, Knowing no boundaries, Growing unruly and where she pleases, I paint and get lost in her, And wonder if this is a self portrait, I hope so. |
Alexandra RoseTravel enthusiast. Lover of Yellowstone, coffee, and a good book. Passionately curious. Hopeful wanderer. Archives
May 2018
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