SashaManuel.com

Memories as rich as the redness of the flower; a flower so sweet and fragile, unique to one’s own eye.
“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passer-by would think that my rose looked just like you — the rose that [...]

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“Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.”
“In the course of this life I have had a great many encounters with a great many people who have been concerned with matters of consequence. I have lived a great deal [...]

a burst of colours
spitter spatter spat, spat, spat
reds, pinks, pale blues and yellows
on a fresh white canvas
texture, layer, and patterns
strokes and techniques
brushes, palettes, hands
the eye pulls it together
all from a creative mind
stimulates the senses
translates a multitude of thoughts
solidifies emotion
no longer fleeting
forever read
5 June 2008
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Meanwhile, once in a while,
I have chanced, among the quick things,
upon the immutable.
What more could one ask?
And I would touch the faces of the daises,
and I would bow down to think about it.
That was then, which hasn’t ended yet.
Now the sun begins to swing down. Under the peach-light,
I cross the fields and the dunes, I [...]