The Furious Spinner

(This is a self-portrait. Any thing anyone needs to know about me is right here, on this land, my grandparents' land, the place where I ran with the Visibles and Invisibles. The place where I talked to the trees and the birds and the frogs and the dead sheep by the big old maple. This is where I walked into a field when I was a child and asked God to prove to me that I wasn't crazy. This is where my soles touched the soul of the Earth. Then and now.)

Labels: photos, travel

3 comments

3 Comments:

Your story, your photos. The landscape of your heart. So achingly beautiful.

By  joanna, at 11:15 AM  

I hadn't remembered your father as being so handsome. And I can see where you get your beautiful hair from. Funny how I learned more about your family in one or two posting than I knew from years of friendship at school. Guess we only talked about the outstanding stuff -- like your uncle's suicide or a sibling's illness and not the day to day things that make us who we are. Perhaps that's because we didn't know who we were. Not yet.

By  Anonymous, at 6:07 AM  

Thanks, Joanna! Needed to hear that.

Is that you, Susan? My father has always been gorgeous. A good looking man, my pops. Did I ever talk about anything? Besides my nightmares. Must have. Yeah, I think it takes a long time to figure out who we are...let me know when you know and I'll run to catch up.

By  Kim Antieau, at 11:52 PM  

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All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.