If the wind could only hear the trees, as they shake and sway. As the wind speaks only when it is spoken to and is heard only by what it happens to come upon, like a wave upon its shore. Our existence is the same, as we rise and fall into each other, colliding in our daily engagements, embracing whatever surface we happen to come upon. It is only by our separations that we become known, as we are guided by such an elusive imagination.

– Josh Fleming

Image by: David Keochkerian’s


2 thoughts on “Tremulant”

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