Dante's Heart
JESSICA FUSCH - Art Editor
Autumn came. With it, the tang of cold and of beautiful aging. Slipping
from her tree, Jessica tried to wake one of the sleeping beauties caught
in her wood with a kiss. His eyes opened a little, dreamlike elsewhere
eyes, and his lips were soft. He stirred at her touch, then settled back
into sleep as she broke the kiss. She looked at him. Her head tilted to
the side. His skin, hair, eyelids had a greenish tint, as though he were
becoming vegetation.
Image, Kiss of the Dryad, copyright Oliver Grey
She had a garden now: a few children with ivy twined in their hair. An
elderly gentleman with a cane that had blossomed with sharp violets during
the summer but was now already barren. Two sisters who had once been
arguing but now leaned against each other, their hair tangled together and
full of reddening leaves. So many of them. This was her wood. She took
up her camera and walked with soft steps through the peopled corridors
of her forest, her lips still warm from the kiss.
She hummed to herself as she worked the complex mathematics of
exposures and shutter speed. In a thicket nearby, a stag raised its antlers
in the green-filtered light. Somewhere above her, a few rooks cawed. Her
branches, her hair whispered. You are all beautiful, she said.
More soon...
Back to Jessica, Page 1 Back to Editors
Autumn came. With it, the tang of cold and of beautiful aging. Slipping
from her tree, Jessica tried to wake one of the sleeping beauties caught
in her wood with a kiss. His eyes opened a little, dreamlike elsewhere
eyes, and his lips were soft. He stirred at her touch, then settled back
into sleep as she broke the kiss. She looked at him. Her head tilted to
the side. His skin, hair, eyelids had a greenish tint, as though he were
becoming vegetation.
Image, Kiss of the Dryad, copyright Oliver Grey
She had a garden now: a few children with ivy twined in their hair. An
elderly gentleman with a cane that had blossomed with sharp violets during
the summer but was now already barren. Two sisters who had once been
arguing but now leaned against each other, their hair tangled together and
full of reddening leaves. So many of them. This was her wood. She took
up her camera and walked with soft steps through the peopled corridors
of her forest, her lips still warm from the kiss.
She hummed to herself as she worked the complex mathematics of
exposures and shutter speed. In a thicket nearby, a stag raised its antlers
in the green-filtered light. Somewhere above her, a few rooks cawed. Her
branches, her hair whispered. You are all beautiful, she said.
More soon...
Back to Jessica, Page 1 Back to Editors
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
