From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves dig up the world
like a mole, a plough.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
where the ruined house once stood.
Yehuda Amichai
1924-2000
All photographs by Baya Clare, CSJ unless otherwise noted.
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2 comments:
Thanks again for your wonderful color series. I assume you are a walker... but what do you do - just walk around looking for your theme, or finding pictures from your gallery after the fact?
And I hope someday to talk through the fundamentalist thing... but I lack the energy or will to do so. (In short, I regard myself as an unsettled fundamentalist -- or, if there is such a thing, a fundamentalist/mystic hybrid. But I'll go there another time.
Should I ever venture North it would be great pleasure to walk your world with you.
This contemplation on yellow is amazing. The deeper one looks, the more harmony there is. You have a great eye. Thank you.
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