once a year
you become slightly more wise
grey hairs begin their
slow creeping journey
to symbolise that
you are passing through time
An Ode to the Girl Who I Could Never Write
Girl | Girl I | Girl II | Girl III | Girl IV | Girl V | Girl VI | Girl VII | Girl VIII | Girl IX | Girl X | Girl XI | Girl XII | Girl XIII | Girl XIV | Girl XV | Girl XVI | Girl XVII | Girl XVIII | Girl XIX | Girl XX | Girl XXI | Girl XXII | Girl XXIII | Girl XXIV | Girl XXV | Girl XXVI | Girl XXVII | Girl XXVIII | Girl XXIX | Girl XXX | Girl XXXI | Girl XXXII | Girl XXXIII | Girl XXXIV | Girl XXXV | Girl XXXVI | Girl XXXVII | Girl XXXVIII | Girl XXXIX | Girl XL | Girl XLI | Girl XLII | Girl XLIII | Girl XLIV | Girl XLV | Girl XLVI | Girl XLVII | Girl XLVIII | Girl XLIV | Girl XLV | Girl XLVI | Girl XLVII
Each year, we become older. Some people celebrate the whole week in which they were born, some people just the day, and some people tend towards forgetting that day, as it signifies another year passed.
But I found the girl, with a bottle of champagne in her hand, celebrating this day in the most beautiful of places.
As she moved inside, she turned the old house into a setting that wanted to be explored with a camera.
The light fell at perfect angles, and the girl donned her champagne dress as we tried to imitate the spirits that kept calling through the walls.
Even they sang to her false notes and broken words.
Please join me as I show you this intimate series of photographs of a girl I could never write, but this time on her birthday, as another year has passed, and as she grows even more grey hairs!
Birthday and Champagne
She danced with a bottle of champagne in her hands, and she drank from the bottle as if wisdom was found in the bottle; yet she only dreamed of staying young with her body and mind and soul, dancing along with her lover through the room of an old house at the end of the street; she dreamed of drunk poetry and fast food, cheap wine and poetry books full of her desires ...
... she found her desire in the bottle, where she buried all the feelings of the previous years; for every birthday, she climbed yet another mountain that did not make sense, but which we gave meaning ...
Postscriptum, or Cheers to another year!
And so we celebrated another year, another moment in time, another grey hair somewhere on the body and scalp. Cheers, they say, and we celebrate another year in which we grow slightly older.
The year saw so many beautiful things, especially our engagement, and now we can tackle the new year with new wisdom, insight, joy, liveliness, and all of the other synonyms.
All of the musings and writings in this post are my own. The photographs are also my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and 50mm Nikkor lens.