...that I haven't yet had the energy to make real.
These crocuses - or croci if you want to keep to the latinate ending - had been trodden on in the park. Still they are so pretty and I guess that insects can still pollinate them so perhaps being squashed doesn't matter all that much.
I had an image of a golden red orange sun-like marble held in the roots of a baobab tree which reaches up to embrace a moon in its branches. My art therapist says I should paint it.
So I should.
But I wonder what it means to me? I have been trying to paint anger and that flaming ball could be seen to be anger at the root of me - but above the surface I favour the yin, the feminine, the soft lady of the moon. But the goddess, worshiped by Wicca witches... or at least I think she is.. she was worshiped by hunters... I think... anyway... someone... isn't exactly a pussy cat. Just ask Actaeon.
It didn't feel like that... maybe it means I need both. Maybe the anger is the passion that allows for... I don't know... love?
Maybe that's the thing with an image - it is an image because it cannot be translated into words.
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