The month when we are lulled, in the Northern Hemisphere, into a false sense of something. Crocuses, snowdrops, hellebores, primulas have braved the above ground in the garden, only to become appalled when snow returns for half a day. The soil freezes, unfreezes, then freezes again, and we don’t have time to retrieve the rhubarb or the strawberries from the old house in between. So instead, on one of the coldest days so far we prune the three ancient apple trees, before the sap rises, which were poorly maintained and shaped for some time. Older than us put together though—they could easily be one hundred years old, and more if they were planted when the house was built.
Reading this beautiful piece and discovering these pictures after having seen through my phone a body with half a face and no feet hanging by a literal thread to the window of a building located in a "safe zone", a "safe zone", a "safe zone", and I feel a little less alone in my grief, if not less angry or heartbroken.
The photographs of Dana Barqawi….so very beautiful! ❤️✨🇵🇸
Reading this beautiful piece and discovering these pictures after having seen through my phone a body with half a face and no feet hanging by a literal thread to the window of a building located in a "safe zone", a "safe zone", a "safe zone", and I feel a little less alone in my grief, if not less angry or heartbroken.