This one is still here. The one I called They Became Like a Tree. From back here. And still no faces. I am thinking about faceless. How it does not mean formless. Or empty. I might look more while considering a new name like Facelessly Forming.
How life might go, with no one noticing. How randomly things come into view. Become known. Become part of one's story.
Magnolia. Never a friend before, just a whisper of a tree being.
It was a hard late freeze. Blackened buds are falling.
But some seem to be ok.
Hard to tell , they are up high.
Opening. But different. I used to put faces on trees. Maybe to make them more like me. To seem to understand.
I sat and talked, across from my robe this morning with coffee. It seemed a self. Without a face. I snapped a picture just as Soul-O walked by leaving only a shadow. I found it to be such an interesting image. And suddenly odd that I had the thought to take a pic.
I love that I have made this garment and that I have had it long enough to mend it. And that it wears so well.