There is the imagery of optimism in the blue sky that beckons beyond the low gray clouds. Then it is that time of the day, when blue looms large, reminding us of what is fading, as pink fades to purple, of what could have been more simply attained by not knowing one could not have it. It doesn’t scream, but gently pierces nonetheless. It speaks of the swelling in the heart that aches tenderly against that huge volume of the empty sky, softened only by the sentinel clouds. The epitome of wistfulness.
A conjurer of wistful worlds, Millman unblinkingly examines the void that resides within us all. It takes a certain kind of bravery to bare the loneliness, the dread want, the ache for the majestic that is part and parcel of the human experience. Those boldfaced words set adrift among the limitless sky–a sky that, like the friend who arrives with well-wishes on the one hand and brandishes a knife with the other, wears many faces–are the signatures of regret that make us who we are. It is as if by the creation of this deeply personal work Millman is saying, with more than a jot of hope, that it is possible to remake the broken soul.
it’s like an extended hiku of my life. delicious and wistful all at the same time.
Sad and beautiful.
Makes me wistful for what was and coulda been when i looked out into the clouds and daydreamed too…
Wish this was a large screen saver!
Nice! I love the Debbiefont.
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