Red Threads


Have you ever seen a woman with such stunning red hair? Though now it is fading to pink I am reminded of our months together marked by the moments it jumped back to deep red; where once it was but a detail in my life now it has become a central motif, appearing on all of my hair brushes, as stains on my pillows or strands bound within my journal by chance. Wherever I find myself, whenever my mind is lost, I am drawn irrevocably back towards her, those little red strands as ever present reminders of our romance.

Have you ever seen a woman with such powerful eyes? You’ll see them again and again marked across my contact sheets as photographs of the greatest importance though they may forever go unused. Where once I thought my obsession was detritus and decay now I see that it is beauty. Beauty both in her eyes and in the landscapes I encounter, my mind wandering back to her.

Have you ever heard such a gentle voice? I have heard that it is foolish to love artists. We obsess over our craft more than we can possibly obsess over our love. Despite history I think I would have to disagree, for there are few things as inspiring as to be with one as dedicated to her craft as you are to yours.

Sitting on this beach at the foot of the sea watching her approach I dig my hands into the sand. I am grateful for this shore in a way which I have never been before. Here is where  we were raised and here is where we find our respite; in each others company.

Now my mind is still, for it may be true that nothing is permanent and that all good things  come to an end, but I doubt that I shall ever lose sight of those delicate red threads.