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From one of the last days of August by the lake. A very local mist appeared and only lasted for a short while before it disappeard, and I was lucky to be there in that moment.
Enveloped by the gentle hush of reeds and framed by wild summer blooms, this wooden boat drifts quietly on the serene waters of Sigtuna, Sweden. The soft light of an overcast sky casts a timeless spell, transforming the lake into a mirror of peaceful solitude. A moment where nature whispers tranquility, transporting the viewer to a place where time, like the reflections on the water, moves slowly, inviting every gaze to linger a little longer.
Drift with me for a moment to this tranquil lakeside in Sigtuna, Sweden, where the gentle embrace of nature invites us to pause and dream. There’s something magical about quiet reflection and the timeless calm of the wooden boats softly adorned between wildflowers and reeds. I hope this scene brings a touch of serenity to your day. I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, and favorites—sending ripples of friendship your way...
acrylic/ oil on canvas, 40x60 cm
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"Soffio dell'autunno" è una potente immagine poetica e metaforica che cattura il momento preciso in cui la vitalità dell'estate cede il passo al declino, portando con sé un'aura di dolce tristezza e consapevolezza della transitorietà delle cose.
L'atmosfera di clima più freddo associati al soffio dell'autunno possono indurre stati d'animo di malinconia e favorire una maggiore riflessione interiore.
L'immagine del vento che muove le foglie o che disperde i semi è un motivo ricorrente nell'arte, utilizzato per esprimere i concetti di leggerezza, desiderio e la capacità di "lasciare andare".
No one can carry it for you, no one can steal it away.
It grows in the moments you stop running from yourself.
Not everything will be good, but something can still be enough.
You learn to sit with your shadows without turning away.
And one day, you realize… peace was never somewhere else.
© 2022 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
watercolor on paper
MUJER CON FLOR POR YKAY LEDEZMA - publication: youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva
Octavio Paz #dixit
"Piedra de sol"
Black and white photograph of a tree with exposed roots spreading across the forest floor.
Fotografía en blanco y negro de un árbol cuyas raíces expuestas se extienden por el suelo del bosque.
Une église du XIeme siècle, quelques fresques de l’époque récemment découvertes et la croisée des chemins entre soldats républicains et paysans insurgés en 1793. Un repère familial pour les descendants de ces Vendéens avec à leur tête le Général d’Elbee.
La Grande Histoire est passée par là. Le Pater des Vendéens a marqué l’histoire de ma région d’origine : un épisode au cours duquel la récitation d’un « Pater Noster » a sauvé la vie de 400 soldats républicains finalement épargnés par les insurgés catholiques.
Aujourd’hui, les arbres plusieurs fois centenaires et jadis témoins du « Choc de Chemillé » continuent de projeter leur ombre sur les murs de l’église où les prisonniers furent pardonnés puis libérés.
BC
watercolor on paper
MUJER CON FLOR POR YKAY LEDEZMA - publication: youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva
watercolor on paper,
MUJER CON FLOR POR YKAY LEDEZMA - publication: youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva
Specchio Sensibile
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Tocco la superficie, lei risponde,
con vibrazioni di luce e di ombra.
Non trattiene per sempre, ma nasconde,
la carezza che il profondo assombra.
Un attimo rubato, un'arte fluida,
la pelle mia nell'acqua si confida.
I died for Beauty
di Emily Dickinson
I died for Beauty – but was scarce
Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining Room –
He questioned softly “Why I failed”?
“For Beauty”, I replied –
“And I – for Truth – Themself are One –
We Bretheren, are”, He said –
And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night –
We talked between the Rooms –
Until the Moss had reached our lips –
And covered up – our names –