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The photographer lives in Los Angeles, California, and specializes in
low light photography.
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Photo used with permission from Cathy van Hoang.
Photo Prompt: Love Will Tear Us Apart
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10 comments:
I fell apart when I lost my greatest love. I wouldn't say it was a nervous breakdown, but I lost my will to love again. I also became very cynical, even now I have trouble trusting people. I constantly question their motives. It's quite sad. But once a part of you has been undone, it changes for good.
I've felt loss before and there can be no greater loss than that of a child. I feel the pain she is feeling, never goes away. We just move on, broken and spent but breathing.
when love tore me apart, i gre more tna any other time or expereince, but boy, did it hurt xxx
When love tore me apart....I left him.
Nancy what a beautiful picture.
Have a good day.
Love Renee
You are a tough cookie. We get along famously. I love it. har har har.
I would be the co-worker beside you saying 'no kidding, you tell them.' And then I would laugh and say to the other co-worker 'gee, I can't believe Nancy said that.' har har har.
Thanks for the best wishes. Wahid and I will.
Love Renee
What a beautiful, evocative photograph. I'm in awe.
Woe to those who dive blindly into love
For shallow waters hide many perils
And woe to those who swim in turbulent love
For they will tire and they will drown
If they cannot reach the shore
But those who do learn
'Tis better to slip slowly into love
And wade into deeper, calmer waters
Those look like angel wings in the background...a fallen angel...which led me to write...
If I had known, before I died,
On angel's wings I'd have to ride,
Then I'd have lost those thirty pounds
by jogging round the campus grounds
And now I lay, crashed on this rock.
My battered wings in utter shock
A cherub's life is not for me
Send me below and let me be
(poem by Therese L. Broderick of Albany, NY, USA)
STONE
Where shafts collapse beneath
the mountain's village,
the light is so low
that only the wingtips
of angels could be seen,
if any could be summoned.
Stone upon stone falls
into noiseless water,
flooded tunnels filled with
sons and fathers
who raise both hands
to cover their eyes
or wave at the heavens.
Hands of men in the mines,
appalled, white
in the dust.
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