With a sigh, she watches as the ashes of dead dreams drift to their new home in the echoes of yesterday. At the point that she thinks that she will suffocate on the smoke of her grief, suddenly, grace appears; soft clarity rising and beckoning her to remember that she has been blessed with the courage of the heavens and her spirit has been etched with the whimsy of the stars.
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| The strangeness of a Holga and outdated film |
All at once, she wants nothing more than to be married to the bold whispers of her soul and to follow them to her next big horizon. Wiping the tear from her eye, turning her face to the sunshine, she whispers her prayer to the Mystery and the sunrises to come, " I am yours."
~from the journals of Kristy
