A small portrait
It is beautiful outside and I cherish the wind. The sun masks such glorious clouds and I have the impression to see the citadel of the heavens, majestically sharing glimpses into this other world. I do not hear much sound though, and I realize I have mostly heard through my eyes, outside of this wind.
This wind, which harkens the waves and crashes them so boldly against the cliffs. This wind that whimsically courts the leaves throughout a meadow; the wind that gently brushes my hair against my face; this wind now that I only hear. For I have awoken with only the sound of the wind.
And I cannot say it is not somewhat soothing. To no longer hear a cry. I am not sure I will miss you, and yet I mourn you. And yet it is still however so beautiful, even in nostalgia.
All photography provided by Jessica Erickson