Life’s Beauty runs to & over the lip, gently.
Here is my new digital home for the various creative processes I’ve been working out the past few years. Ranging from writing to audio recordings to photography and a interweaving of all three. This won’t have everything but it will have some things. We experience such a myriad of off-puttingly beautiful things every day, yet how hard they are to describe in ways that suffice; equal still, the torrents which grind us into darkness.
My life has come about from the intersection of those truths. Cinnamon, resplendent in its contributions to the sensuous gifts of both taste and smell, burns. In your eyes or left too long to skin, even worse if it’s rubbed in, cinnamon warns as much as it warms. So too, life. I borrow from the delicate words Amal El-Mohtar put to paper in her short story, “And Their Lips Rang with the Sun” when I invite you to consider cinnamon-rubbed skin. I do so because mud-dipped skin so often is that which has been forced to inhale pain and yet still somehow exhale beauty.
Look at them! Are they not beautiful? Had cinnamon been ground and rubbed into their skin, they could not have been more brown, more fragrant, more beloved of the wine-bright sky.
Amal El-Mohtar from “And Their Lips Rang with the Sun” in Seasons of Glass and Iron
So, here’s to the wrangled bits of photons, wrested words out of air, and creative tapestries wrought of life.
AIM Online 