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"O Rose thou art sick"

Gardening would seem to be a kind of investment in the future, yet here is my dear wife, hazily glimpsed through a window, busy at it as she always has been, but alas, with little future allotted to her. As she fades and her petals drop, so does my heart.

 

O Rose thou art sick,

The invisible worm

That flies in the night,

In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed

Of crimson joy:

And his dark secret love

Does thy life destroy.

 

WIlliam Blake

 

(As for most images taken with a lens wider than traditional 'standard', this needs to be viewed at large scale to have a sense of reality and impact.)

 

My wife was standing in the same spot, facing the other way, twelve years earlier when I took this shot A Last Grasp with an extension lens on an early iPhone 4.

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Uploaded on February 2, 2023
Taken on February 2, 2023