Water is flowing downhill
The winter is over
Still present
Life has yet to begin
Days are longer
A harmony of
Gray and white shades
Freeze
Black Water
The cold sea
Changes color
Turns black and white
Waves hitting the shore
Winter and water
Freezes you to the bone
Rugged beauty
Keeps you moving
And makes your
Feet very cold
Finding a way
Through the deep snow
Between the pine trees
It is hard but possible
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Metamorfosis
The night is white
Enlighten by the snow
And thousands of lamppost
A cold wind blows
filled with moisture
The clouds travels
Hastily from the west
On the street black shadows passing by
A reminder of the changeable
Existens
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White
The snow
Keeps on
Falling
Over the
Dirty city
Covering
It’s filth and flaws
In white
Mirage
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Empty spaces
In between us
There are small secret rooms
Not visible to others
Rooms where we meet
At night
Sharing our most inner
Thoughts and dreams
Dreams that grows from
The final hope of a better world
Sharing and caring
Outside the cold daylight view
While we move around the market, street
Or prayer house
Where we are strangers every day
To one another
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Frozen Ground
This is my land
And it is frozen
Cold, frigid, unfriendly
Built on wrath and frustration,
By determined people
Frugal, sterile land
Of slow living
I was born here
But this land is not my land
This land just bore my weight
I did not grow here
Just barely survived
So I could grow where
I truly belong
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Sands of Time — Discover
Sometimes another perspective is necessary in order to understand the world. This place reminds me in an awkward way of the far north. Places with only snow and no trees, windy stretches of roads often clogged by snow dunes up to five meters.
Photographer James Dee Clayton travels across Morocco, across the tallest dunes of the Sahara Desert.
via Sands of Time — Discover
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Fear and Prosperity
It is all in the making
We just do not know what it is
The aggressive confidence
Easy solutions to difficult problems
Or just denial of that there are anything wrong
The snow keeps falling,
While we are preparing
Clearing the shelter, cleaning the gun, stocking up
We know, we believe, we fear
Still we know nothing, remember nothing
Real war is still distant, surreal
In silence I prepare my life as an ageing Odysseus
A journey that will last a life time
Without returning to Ithaca
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Cold Houses
The warmth of the fire
Contrast to the white snow
Even inside the house
White steam comes out of our noses
Creating a warm house takes time
And patience but most importent
Warm feet
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Esoteric Matter
Snow is a strange thing
Somewhat surreal
Out of this world
When it comes in masses
Obliterating every life form
Purifying and destroying
In its terrible beauty
Going North makes one remember
What Winter used to be like
That feeling when your hands
Slowly turn red than white
And you know is not good
