|My wonderful home.|
I cannot hide my joy at just being alive here in France. Springtime is special of course, wherever you are. It represents something of a forgiveness to me – that the great generous heart of the universe has once again let me have its warmth. Surely, this is how pagan folk must have felt.
|Brave tiny blooms – your beauty is stronger than my self important life|
|Oh – thank you thank you for your gorgeous push and pulse|
I set out into Saint Savinien with my camera to take some pix of the first push of Spring. Oooh – it made me feel quite frisky – and at my age….no risky. God knows how many progeny I would have borne if I’d not lived in Republic Bar of Urbania. Springtime in South London was when they changed the revolving lamb kebab lump-a-stuff in the Istanbul Delite Tonite Takeaway window. Here, the season pushes out its cry of new life. It’s orgasmic and I love it!
So, all in all it’s romantic novelist and poet goes OTT with vernal lust. Here are a few images:
|Reach and reach and reach and reach. I offer only my open shouting beauty. I AM ALIVE.|
|LOOK AT ME – I AM A MIRACLE|
You just cannot beat these simple little blooms. I think of them as cherub kisses planted with a wink. Oh – joy joy joy!
Emma Thinx: Life sometimes shit. You always seed. GROW!