The Wind in our Faces

The Wind in our Faces

It's snowy and cold outside (but beautiful). A candle is lit and the cat sleeps on my desk. I'm drinking a husband-invented concoction of whiskey, orange liqueur, and butterscotch schnapps over a single giant ice cube, and listening to Karen O. So this is what we're getting on the blog tonight. Sound alright?

Photos by me, and a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke, the ever-present poet who narrated my life and thoughts more than 100 years ago like a damned magician. I discovered him randomly when I was a teenager and never have I parted from his words in quiet hours.

The photos were taken last April on a clunky old Nikon film camera that I kind of love. It was given to me by my father-in-law. 

The people in the images are my friends. 

"A Walk"
by Rainer Maria Rilke
translated by Robert Bly

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
Going far ahead of the road I have begun.

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,

we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave…

So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

Performance Meals USA

Performance Meals USA

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