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oil on canvas, sold
MUJER CON FLOR POR YKAY LEDEZMA - publication: youtu.be/Fo81laDkZRo Musica: Ykay Ledezma; Arte: Alice Alicja Cieliczka; Poesia: Ludovico Silva
No chain can hold their flight.
They cross the darkest valleys, seeking light.
No wall can silence what the soul has known,
For every dream is still its own.
The wind may change, the world may disagree Yet every heart remembers...
thoughts are free.
© 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.
Escultura: Nena tocant l'aigua, 2006. Núm. 22
Artista: Marta Solsona
Banyoles
Moltes gràcies a tots pels comentaris i els m'agrada.
Merci à tous pour vos commentaires et vos faves.
Tack alla för dina kommentarer och favoriter.
Thanks all for your comments and faves.
Gracias por vuestros comentarios y favoritos.
Vielen Dank für Ihre Kommentare und Faves.
Grazie a tutti per i vostri commenti e fave.
Bedankt voor je opmerkingen en favorieten.
Often it's just when you're ready to give up that your miracle arrives.
Not because the road becomes easier,
but because you finally learn to see the light that was always there.
© 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.
#fujiwalkaarhus2021
From a photo walk with members of a Danish Facebook group - May 23, 2021.
Photo from the Aarhus Art Museum (ARoS).
From the depths of the sky, the golden eagle rises like an ancient omen. Its wings cut through the air with the force of a destiny carved into the mountains, while the dawn light ignites its feathers like a divine armor. Sovereign of the winds, it crosses the world with the calm of one who fears nothing, carrying in its silence the promise of a boundless realm.
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4278 HDR
Sotto il cielo limpido, il Monviso si erge come un re antico, custode silenzioso della pianura Padana. I suoi pendii innevati raccontano storie di vento e di tempo, mentre il campo fiorito ai suoi piedi vibra di luce e di vita. È l’incontro tra la quiete delle montagne e il respiro fertile della terra, un dialogo eterno tra altezza e orizzonte.
Beneath the clear sky, Monviso rises like an ancient king, silent guardian of the Po Valley. Its snow-clad slopes whisper tales of wind and time, while the blooming field below pulses with light and life. It is the meeting of mountain calm and fertile breath, an eternal dialogue between height and horizon.
8486 HDR
Captured at the Royal Botanic Gardens Victoria, this frame freezes a bee mid-flight, moments before touching a delicate white bloom. Soft light, shallow depth, and gentle motion convey nature’s quiet precision—pollination as poetry—where patience, balance, and timing briefly align in a single, fleeting instant within the garden’s living seasonal rhythm.
When silence learns my name again,
and the world forgets to rush.
light bends softly through my thoughts,
and even time lowers its voice.
Nothing is demanded of me then
not answers, not direction
only presence… and I remain.
© 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.
drawing, pencil on paper
(16,5x24 cm)
www.instagram.com/p/DYNh_TnjYOx/?img_index=5
Questa frase descrive uno stato di maestria tecnica in cui la fatica scompare, lasciando spazio solo alla pura espressione artistica. È l'ideale della leggerezza — tanto caro a Calvino — applicato alla manualità: la capacità di produrre arte (musica, scrittura, disegno) con una delicatezza tale da far sembrare il movimento naturale e senza sforzo.
When the hands of time are ready to part,
they drift away like leaves
wandering from the tree.
The emptiness within the heart
walks beside the memory.
© 2024 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.
Shot on a short sunset trip on a rather windy (and quite cold) night at Toftum north of Struer, Denmark - April 09, 2020.
A charming balcony in Tbilisi, Georgia, draped in a lush cascade of ivy, offers a picturesque blend of nature and architecture. The ornate wrought iron railing holds colorful flowerpots, adding warmth and vibrance. Reflections in the tall windows echo the surrounding greenery, creating a tranquil, storybook-like atmosphere. This serene corner captures the timeless elegance and quiet beauty of Tbilisi’s old-world charm, bathed in soft summer light.
acrylic on canvas, 40x50 cm
www.instagram.com/p/DQwdMUsDahl/?img_index=1
"Fiamme dell'autunno" è un'espressione metaforica che evoca il suggestivo spettacolo del foliage, il fenomeno naturale per cui le foglie degli alberi cambiano colore, assumendo tonalità calde e intense prima di cadere.
L'espressione si riferisce alla vasta gamma di colori autunnali, tra cui il rosso, l'arancio fiammeggiante, il giallo oro e l'ambra, che tingono le chiome degli alberi.
I colori vivaci creano uno spettacolo di grande bellezza e intensità, ma questa "fiamma" è destinata a spegnersi presto con l'arrivo dell'inverno, sottolineando la natura transitoria e fugace della bellezza e della vita stessa.
L'autunno può rappresentare la fase della maturità e l'avvicinamento alla vecchiaia, dove la "fiamma" si trasforma in una "dolce agonia" o un crepuscolo consapevole.
Art exhibition /1997/; ”Odchodzimy”; Art Gallery SIENNA BRAMA, Warsaw, Poland
www.facebook.com/193031898000785/photos/a.277503156220325...
From a week's family vacation in a rented house in Skagen, Denmark - April 01, 2021.
The photo is taken at the Raabjerg Mile area (a huge area of sand drift) south-west of the town.
You said: "I'll go to another country, go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart -like something dead- lies buried.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,
where I've spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally."
You won't find a new country, won't find another shore.
This city will always pursue you.
You'll walk the same streets, grow old
in the same neighbourhoods, turn grey in these same houses.
You'll always end up in this city. Don't hope for things elsewhere:
there's no ship for you, there's no road.
Now that you've wasted your life here, in this small corner,
you've destroyed it everywhere in the world.
Konstantinos P. Kavafis