there is a quietness to winters beauty that i can not find in any other season even when my fingers get cold, i linger, i look, i stare and inhale. i hold on to that breath for even exhaling would disrupt the magical silence of a winters showing.
i moved where my heart had drifted off to long before. i live on a hill of hundred acres, where my dreams have merged with the view. it is quiet from machine noises yet loud with sounds of horses, dogs, cats chickens and ducks. nature is the true artist in resident and i am just her apprentice who often gets lost in her gaze. once and a while i travel back to cities and foreign places to put into photographs what i have learned, yet always, part of my heart is left on the hill..
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