Other Blogs

As you've probably noticed, I haven't been posting on this blog. I've created other blogs that I feel better reflect where I'm at right now, and I'd encourage you to check them out.
My personal web page is www.erikaluckert.com, I keep a local blog at www.journaledmonton.com, and I post photos at www.writerwithlight.tumblr.com.

Thank you for your readership!

FOUND: The Universal Love Story

Quasi-atom – a system formed by two colliding atoms whose nuclei approach eachother so closely that, for a very short time, the atomic electrons arrange themselves as if they belonged to a single atom whose atomic number equals the sum of the atomic numbers of the colliding atoms. [McGraw-Hill Dictionary of Physics]

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Notes from Mexico: VIII

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Notes from Mexico: VII

Constellations

To my right, I see the table, still laid with a white tablecloth, where we ate supper right outside our room, in full view of the setting sun. Now, the sun has long since disappeared, and looking up at the skies, I see a thousand other suns shining down. I can make out some constellations – the few that I know. Orion, the dippers, and the one which was always my favourite as a child – the seven sisters. I think I liked it because I didn’t have to draw any lines in my mind’s eye; the picture was just there – seven pinpoints of light, seven beautiful women. Even at that age, I could take in the world as symbols. I could see how a person could be reduced to a pinpoint of light, or, how a pinpoint of light could be reduced to a person. I felt like that sometimes, still feel like that sometimes – like I am some abstraction of an existence. So I liked knowing that there were seven others up there, seven others who didn’t need to be drawn together to be understood, who didn’t need to outline a bear, or a hunter, or a piece of cutlery, but who could exist simply as the light that they were, and be seen that way as well.

-muse

Notes from Mexico: VI

Alamos, Mexico

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Notes from Mexico: V

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Notes from Mexico: IV

Sky sketches

I look out the window, and I cannot decide is the clouds are the brightest, or the sun. There is barely room for blue in the sky because of the light.

Clouds that look like white dinner plates stacked up in the sky.

I look up, and suddenly, the sky has gained a dimension – a plane cuts through scattered clouds, its jetstream delineating the third dimension, a dimension between cumulus and cirrus, a sky where clouds are cars and trees and rivers and hills, where the sunlight casts shadows over cool groves, and illuminated desert stretches. These words are not doing it justice, but nor could a photograph, for with the click of a shutter, all that depth would be reduced to a single plane. And there is so much more than that.

If you look out the window at the right time, the wires run parallel to the clouds.

The honey-coated land as the day begins to fade. Trying to catch the taste of the light in a photograph.

I watch the sun set through the black lace of the trees; an eternal tapestry woven by time.

At nighttime, the clouds are black instead of white – silhouettes against the orange cities below. They pass like widow’s veils, not quite obscuring the light, but dimming it to a more sombre hue. Still, through the veil, there is the orange memory of life, flickering. 

-muse