Dreams can be wonderful or terrifying, plebeian or absurd. But something dreamy? It’s almost always going to be ephemeral, gone with the next wind or whisper. Worth capturing (on what used to be called film, when much more effort was required to preserve it) in order to share and revisit it.
It’s going to be something that changes with all that changes around it. At even the most ancient places on the planet, it will change in the next frame, with the light and air and next skip of a stone across the autumn reflections on a pond’s surface.
It will transform with the next cell that reaches its limits, the next leaf that buds or falls, the next breath that is or is not taken.
You just never know where you might wander into a dreamscape, too impossibly beautiful and ephemeral to convince yourself you’d seen in the absence of photographic evidence. Your beagles may insist on following a scent trail when sunrise erupts in the thin space between a gray morning and a grayer day. Your daughter may invite you to visit her in India when peacocks are courting in Jodhpur. Fog just ahead of a storm system may fluoresce. You may take a last family trip to the end of the world as you will ever know it.
You can collect those dreamy images and share them.
Love in the Spaces 