the bridge

From silverpoint to bluesmoke, jagged edge to smoothable curves, things merge into others, if looked at in the right way, with sufficient attention, detail, and care. A shift in perspective, a movement within the stillness, a change of heart, the first word like the first cool autumn clouds after a dry summer. Brown to grey. The receptivity of a hand, that knows shapes in the dark and trusts...

A mirror, where additions and subtractions are made, time working behind its timeless surface. A bridge that leads from one person to another; and each person is a bridge, a frontier.

'Let me show you something, she suggested, it's a prepatory position we take on the floor and we call it the Bridge because our weight is suspended between our left hand palm down on the floor and our right foot also flat on the floor. Between these two fixed points the whole body is expectant, waiting, suspended.'
---John Berger.

~~~

And now, for 20 seconds of something totally different. Rita