Ancient spirits dwell eons between fluid and ether in spaceships of bone, poised below the sepia mirror, breaching to breath the sun, leaving only fleeting ripples that mingle like silent harmonies. www.photos.dianathornton.com
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means…