cocooning photos on Flickr

it's in my uncle david's apartment, on the upper west side, where he's lived all my life. and it's been there ever since i was small enough to curl up in it like a ball.

as i've mentioned before, david means the world to me. and i mean that literally. see, when i was a kid, chaos was the rule -- divorce, self-absorbed parents, lack of routine (go see the movie "the squid and the whale" and you will know what i mean). but every year, on december 24, my mother would load shopping bags of gifts, along with myself, into the back seat of her shit-green chevy nova and drive down the henry hudson parkway to david's. we'd circle his block for ten minutes until we found a spot, carrying the bags through the wind to his building; i still remember the cutting weight of the twiny handles in my hands. the doorman would smile as he held the door, wish us a merry christmas, and call upstairs. "barbara is here, mister david." down came the elevator, and up we went.

when we got to the ninth floor and shuffled our way down the hall, i could hear david opening the door. and that's when i'd drop whatever i was carrying and break into a run. into his arms. into his apartment. into safety.

as my mother disappeared into the bedroom to do god knows what, i would creep over towards the christmas tree and, if no one was looking, peek at the tags to see which presents were for me. we'd nosh on crackers and shrimp and the famous liver "patty" from the silver palate cookbook.

and as the grownups talked about movies and politics and grownup things, i would curl up in this chair and feel... okay. i knew that david would bring out his homemade butter cookies. i knew that soon i'd go into the den and fall asleep on the pullout couch, surrounded by the orange spiney forest of his penguin paperbacks (i remember being intrigued by the title of nabokov's "invitation to a beheading" and devouring it until the wee hours; i was maybe 11). i knew that we'd wake up, have bagels from H&H, open gifts, and laugh at the tags. i knew. i knew because it was the same every year, like clockwork.

and within that cocoon of knowable predictability, i was able to breathe, if only for a night.

cocoons by kens2020~thanks over 3 mill views!

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cocoon by Masashi Furuka

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cocoon by CHRYSTAL FERREIRA

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Hallway diary - 2010

I never shared this although I always thought it was a very emotional image, I felt that too much cleavage ruined the image so I never shared it.

Cocoon by fernandahisi

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Cocoon........ by Hanni K.

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Cocoon by CapCat Ragu

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slurl.com/secondlife/Porto/141/185/22

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art in park by Bluesrose

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cocoons

Cocoon by Charly Rayne

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Bagworm cocoon by Patti

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I took this photo but had to research what it was. There are many of these hanging in my small ornamental Japanese maple tree. some of them just have tiny little twigs on the outside and some,like this one are wrapped in leaves and twigs. They are not a good thing for my little tree so guess I know who will be fixing this infestation!

CocOOn GalaXy by Emmanuelle Baudry - Em'Art auteure photographe

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Disponible sur mon site officiel - Avalaible on my official website :

emart-emmanuellebaudry.e-monsite.com/album-photos/2020-02...

from cocoon forth... by Doug Jonas

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from cocoon forth a butterfly

as lady from her door

emerged — a summer afternoon —

repairing everywhere...

- Emily Dickinson.

Hypera sp cocoon by rockwolf