the cat in the woods

Story 25/52

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the cat in the woods

it's somewhere in this patch of the woods. it's here. It has to be. this is where she buried it and oh my god, she can't have lost it, not now, not when the flames are coming. she needs to find it. mushrooms, plants, small insects. there are bones from the carcasses of small rodents and her finger lingers on the bone for an instant, waits for the soul of the mouse or rabbit to patch itself onto her finger and moves on. one more soul, one more creature. she has almost enough.

her feet are cold against the tree trunk she is standing on. she can hear the men in the back, shouting, asking the women to take the children, take the animals they can. the fire is coming to take the village and there's not much they can do. but she does need to find it. she needs it desperately.

if she doesn't find it, she won't be able to carry the souls of the dead.

she considers dropping the soul of the small animal to leave more space for the humans, but she knows she won't be able to. all souls are alike, she was told. humans or animals, they are equal. neither has predominance.

a small rat makes its way through the wood and stops, stares at her. she hisses. the rat isn't impressed, but the tiny paws come together and she knows it's one of her own. she's probably looking for souls to save, as well. they share a look and the rat moves on.

'take them for me, would you?' she whispers, and she swears she can see the faintest nod. she can go back to searching for the vial. it's somewhere in here.

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I hope you like this. I really, really, really hope you like this, because today I finally feel like I'm telling stories again. this photo feels like a new beginning, like coming home, like doing what I love. I'm actually happy about it. And all I had to do was to get out of the house and shoot. i realized this week that I hadn't taken my stuff and gone into the woods to shoot in almost a year and a half. I forced myself to do it on wednesday, because it was sunny and warm and I wanted to try out my 1.4 in the wild — and this came out. I am so very happy about it. I hope you are too.

And let's hope I'm able to keep up doing this, and not slacking like I have been until now.

Thank you so much for your immense support, dear friends. You guys are amazing.

I am less than fifty followers away from 2,000, on my facebook page! Don't forget to like it and to tell your friends, I am doing a print giveaway as soon as I reach 2k!
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I will keep asking: do not blog my photos without credit AND linking back; do not use weheartit.com to bookmark my photos and please please PLEASE don't instagram my work. Thanks to those of you who respect these requests.

a starless sky

Story 6/52

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a starless sky

And as she fell down the sky, she realized that no earth or moon or sun could ever bring her back to grace. She was done. There would be no thinking again, no believing that it's all right. This fall would follow her for the rest of her existence.

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I was told to put my messed up emotions into photos. I guess this is what came out. It's mostly related to the loss of innocence that comes with the first panic/anxiety attacks. You realize your life is never going to be the same again, because you'll always have that cloud over you, the possibility of everthing going horribly wrong due to a crisis.

I don't know. I'm just not very optimistic today.

tangled up in beauty

Story 4/52

tangled up in beauty

She liked to get tangled up in lace.

It gave her the feeling of being wrapped up in a warm embrace of pink and fabric and the smell of softener. Ever since she was little, she liked to hide in the linnen closet.

So she did that, still. She hanged lace from the ceiling and played with it when she could; tangling it up, wrapping it around herself and marveling at how bright it looked against her skin, stained by the red of her lips.

It was of a beauty she could not contain or explain.

photomaton (or the way a city changes you)

Every time I go out on a journey, I come back a little bit different. And I usually do a photo shoot just to keep a memory of that change to myself. 

This time, in Berlin, I grew. I had never roamed a city alone, had never been on a new and strange subway, had never spent time alone in a place I didn't know as well as the back of my hand. Having a big family will do that to you: you end up always traveling with someone. Whether an aunt or a cousin or a grandparent, you're never alone. But I did all that in Berlin, and absolutely loved it. Of course, there were other things making my trip an absolute delight. Love. Laughter. A new and wondrous place. But I feel like my ability to spend time alone was what changed me the most. That, and having a pair of arms to come back to at the end of my tiny adventures in town, waiting for me just around the corner, telling me I could do it and holding my hand when I thought I couldn't. So yeah. It was a good trip. I think these pictures show exactly that. 

More pictures after the cut, if you're in the mood for some shameless and childish self promotion. I do think I have a new facebook picture, though. 

the apple pickers

The Apple Pickers

it starts with the fall, the way the applies redden on the tree branches, invading the entire orchard tenaciously.  There were rows of apple trees, of peach trees, cherries and pears. But the apples were the most important of all the land — plump and juicy, they were known to make the best apple jams and pies in the state. 

The twins rose early on harvest days. Their usual sleepiness disappeared as soon as their parents started to call their workers to the Orchard, the metallic bell resounding through the entire plantation. They picked their baskets and ran across the fields: his hand holding his hat in place as she released her braids from the morning confinement of the bonnet, leaving the scrap of fabric between blueberry bushes and the strawberry field. The smiles lit up their faces; the summer had turned to fall and suddenly everything made sense again, the warmth of the clothing, the commotion and the action of making jam and pie and spending days secluded in the kitchen, surrounded by their helpers. 

The songs of the helpers filled the air as they worked. The twins were a stark contrast to their dark skins, and yet, that was the place where they felt more included. They could sing and dance, they could jump and laugh and cry and no one would shut them up; there would be no punishment, no going to bed without dessert. The helpers? They knew what it was like to be without food. They wouldn't take it from them. It had been that way ever since they were children.

Eldora was their nanny, growing up. Replacing the figure of the grandmother that was too busy entertaining guests, she would sit them on each of her legs, hold them close until they were both asleep. They didn't talk much; they didn't need to, with her. She knew what they needed even they couldn't put it into words. 

They stopped as they reached the Orchard, their eyes following the trail of dark skinned people taking stairs, holding up baskets, singing songs of love and longing. And mourning. They were singing a song of mourning for Eldora, and the twins sat on the fence while the men and women gathered in a circle, placing their baskets in the middle. 

The boy threw an apple in the air while they stared, his concentration showing in the way he always caught it, always threw it at the same height. The girl twisted her braid between her fingers, a sign of nervousness. She should be in nursing school and he should be helping Daddy with the sales, at the office: but there they were, the clothes from when they were young teenagers only half-fitting, the hat and the checkered shirts and the skirt too short. And they were exactly where they wanted to be.

they stood still, eyes glued to the spectacle before them. There were colors and music and the smell of apples in the air. 

The servants danced now, a young girl they knew as Ginny singing a song of magic and love and the sacred land of God. And with that song in mind, they picked up their baskets and moved to help.

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Story 1/52

Welcome to my new weekly project, 52 Stories. Don't forget to this blog or Flickr to see the photos and stories posted every Friday afternoon! 

I hope you like the project and that you follow it as enthusiastically as I am making it. These projects are nothing without your words, your opinions and your encouragement, so don't be shy! Talk to me!

the drowning of the pirate princess

New shot on flickr: the drowning of the pirate princess

okay, I promise I'm shutting up, now.

I just decided to post this picture on Flickr — because my selfies start piling up when I take too long to post them — and thought it would be a good idea to post the outtakes here!

Enjoy!

a hipster way of saying 'see you later!'

I'm finally going on vacation! I have a plane ride to Porto Santo, a portuguese island, in a few hours, and I thought I'd leave you with a couple of photos that are nothing but an exercise in self-portraiture. I hadn't taken a selfie that I liked in a while, so I decided to do it on Tuesday, while my darling worked as well.

I hope you guys have an incredible week! I'm not sure I'll be able to come online during this week, but if I do get the opportunity, I'll post something for you guys.