Photo Title: Untitled (pearls) © Anastasia CazabonVisit her website to see additional photos.
The photographer currently lives in Boston, Massachusetts,
and she draws inspiration from dreams, memories and the past.
Photo used with permission from Anastasia Cazabon.
14 comments:
Finding lost memories. Beautiful
the idea is nice but would have been better if the hand is even more blackened and whitish...
I can't speak for the photographer, Muthu. But, if I'm understanding your logic, I think it all depends on the story that the photographer was trying to portray. I think you would agree, that there could be more than one interpretation of this image. Thank you for your feedback though!
beautiful- i have been working with pearls alot myself lately- since my daughter found a set
If we search and dig we find the hidden treasure or sometimes not so hidden but do we see it ?
A string of pearls
My life is but a string of pears
A bumpy journey 'round
But one of beauty, nonetheless
As, thus far, I have found
I've shed some pearls along the way
So others might delight
'Tis only but a small part, though
I'll share some more tonight
For this is where my journey ends
I've traveled 'round the ring
And end where I began my life
Upon this bumpy string
'...and then the gardener's careful hand picked them up and the gardener wondered how come a tiny crack on the concrete could beget such beautiful pearls.'
Greetings from London.
"I'll give you all I've got to give, rings, pearls and all."
Led Zeppelin
HOPEFUL GARDENER
I'm quite the avid gardener,
I've grown most everything
Tomatoes to potatoes.
Basil to ginseng.
I grew a bunch of palm trees,
Got tons of coconuts.
Last year I planted Cheerios,
In hopes of fresh donuts
Didn't have much luck with that,
Could be just too much moisture,
This year I'm planting pearls,
Now I'll look for my first oyster.
Pearls dangle from still fingers
the grass brushed by an ill wind,
paving stones are cracked
as tree roots, fearful to be alone,
rise between mans barriers
the carriers of fortune good and bad.
Brick walls no longer burdened
with entry halls lean in
to hear their crumbling whispers,
children’s feet, bumbling,
rouse those sunken beneath
a tired bodies stiff toes.
The surface light a beacon
of mercy and grace,
eyes rendered blind in birth
now surrendered gaze seeing
at endless worlds
all dangling like precious pearls.
(poem by Therese L. Broderick of Albany, NY, USA)
LEGACY
When my mother gave my daughter
her strand of wedding pearls,
the rain outside the birthday party
left one garden for another.
I don't know what I would do if I found a pearl necklace like that. I would first turn around to see if anyone was looking and probably guiltily pick up the necklace. Then Id look around once and then again to see if anyone had seem me pick them up. I'd sit down and look at them very closely, studying them because I don't think I've ever seen "real" pearls. I'd wonder who they had belonged to, and why they were lost. I'd look around to be sure there wasn't a body laying somewhere nearby. Then with pearls in hand, I'd walk away and unless someone grabbed them out of my hand, they were now mine. So be it.
Bye Nancy.:D
An evocative and powerful photograph.
2nd June 2009 = my pearl wedding anniversary. 30 years of marriage to an incredible man :)
Post a Comment