the cat in the woods

the cat in the woods

it's somewhere in this patch of the woods. it's here. It has to be. this is where she buried it and oh my god, she can't have lost it, not now, not when the flames are coming. she needs to find it. mushrooms, plants, small insects. there are bones from the carcasses of small rodents and her finger lingers on the bone for an instant, waits for the soul of the mouse or rabbit to patch itself onto her finger and moves on. one more soul, one more creature. she has almost enough.

her feet are cold against the tree trunk she is standing on. she can hear the men in the back, shouting, asking the women to take the children, take the animals they can. the fire is coming to take the village and there's not much they can do. but she does need to find it. she needs it desperately.

if she doesn't find it, she won't be able to carry the souls of the dead.

she considers dropping the soul of the small animal to leave more space for the humans, but she knows she won't be able to. all souls are alike, she was told. humans or animals, they are equal. neither has predominance.

a small rat makes its way through the wood and stops, stares at her. she hisses. the rat isn't impressed, but the tiny paws come together and she knows it's one of her own. she's probably looking for souls to save, as well. they share a look and the rat moves on.

'take them for me, would you?' she whispers, and she swears she can see the faintest nod. she can go back to searching for the vial. it's somewhere in here.

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I hope you like this. I really, really, really hope you like this, because today I finally feel like I'm telling stories again. this photo feels like a new beginning, like coming home, like doing what I love. I'm actually happy about it. And all I had to do was to get out of the house and shoot. i realized this week that I hadn't taken my stuff and gone into the woods to shoot in almost a year and a half. I forced myself to do it on wednesday, because it was sunny and warm and I wanted to try out my 1.4 in the wild — and this came out. I am so very happy about it. I hope you are too.

And let's hope I'm able to keep up doing this, and not slacking like I have been until now.

Thank you so much for your immense support, dear friends. You guys are amazing.

I am less than fifty followers away from 2,000, on my facebook page! Don't forget to like it and to tell your friends, I am doing a print giveaway as soon as I reach 2k!
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I will keep asking: do not blog my photos without credit AND linking back; do not use weheartit.com to bookmark my photos and please please PLEASE don't instagram my work. Thanks to those of you who respect these requests.

terra

Story 10/52

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terra

in a small strip of land, she put herself to sleep. and from that deathly slumber, life became again.

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I took this photo in July, right after my darling arrived. After that, I had so many photos to process that I ended up putting these on the backburner — until today, when I found them and processed them.

I hope you enjoy them. Thank you so much for your continuous support and kindness towards me and my work.

(two outtakes after the cut)

weekly shot — outtakes and behind the scenes

I feel like I have abandoned this place! I shall correct that. I'm sorry I've been absent for a week — it's just been a weird time for me, even though it was good. I've just been photographing more and editing less and having less time to spend here. But I promise to be better from now on!

In the meantime, you can check out this article from fstoppers.com! I am featured! It was such an honor to be there with names like Brooke Shaden or my friend Sarah Ann Loreth. It really was amazing, and it came at a wonderful time; I've been feeling very down about my art, very uninspired. That these people like my work? It's a fantastic feeling.

On with the work, though. You can see the original shot on Flickr; here are the outtakes and the behind the scenes photos!

demons

Story 7/52

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demons

As it became, she knew that if she opened her mouth they would come crawling out. She did. She wanted them out, she wanted to purge the demons inside of her. She wanted the creatures to run free and wild and away from her. The thoughts. The evil thoughts that made her anxious, that made her crawl with fear and sadness and the certainty that everything was going to go wrong. She wanted them out. She would cut herself, but that would show and she didn’t want anyone knowing. She would throw herself off a building, but that would cause pain to the people she loved, and she didn’t want that, either. She just wanted the bad thoughts to go away. She just wanted them to fade, to become unimportant. She wanted death to stop being a part of her brain, the most prominent part. She wanted the sadness and the questioning and the fear and the anxiety to be a part of her past. So she opened her mouth and let them run away, let them go and flee and go some place so far that they could never be seen again.

She might need to do it again tomorrow. And the day after that and for as long as she existed. It was exhausting. But at least it was something she could do.

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a starless sky

Story 6/52

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a starless sky

And as she fell down the sky, she realized that no earth or moon or sun could ever bring her back to grace. She was done. There would be no thinking again, no believing that it's all right. This fall would follow her for the rest of her existence.

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I was told to put my messed up emotions into photos. I guess this is what came out. It's mostly related to the loss of innocence that comes with the first panic/anxiety attacks. You realize your life is never going to be the same again, because you'll always have that cloud over you, the possibility of everthing going horribly wrong due to a crisis.

I don't know. I'm just not very optimistic today.

structured

Story 5/52

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structured

A structure too rigid can be the death of you. Let yourself go and enjoy your day. Don't think about what's to come. It's the now that matters.

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I have a skeleton! I finally have a skeleton! 

I can finally start working on the series I've had planned since April! But of course, I had to use it for my weekly shot, instead. I do like it, though. 

tangled up in beauty

Story 4/52

tangled up in beauty

She liked to get tangled up in lace.

It gave her the feeling of being wrapped up in a warm embrace of pink and fabric and the smell of softener. Ever since she was little, she liked to hide in the linnen closet.

So she did that, still. She hanged lace from the ceiling and played with it when she could; tangling it up, wrapping it around herself and marveling at how bright it looked against her skin, stained by the red of her lips.

It was of a beauty she could not contain or explain.

and as she travels, the world turns faster

Story 3/52

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and as she travels, the world turns faster

it's a frightening feeling, that of the traveler who has never wandered, never found herself walking aimlessly through the veins of a town she hasn't known. It's exhilerating. It's got the same brand of excitement as the newfound love, the wonder of loneliness and company altogether, mixing with the strange fear and the cold in the pit of her stomach. She has never walked alone and now she is, and she's so brave for it, isn't she? She, the one for whom everything is just a little harder, just a little brighter, just did it on her own, and now she's happy. And terrified, but that's a good thing.

It means she's taken a step forward.

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This photo was delayed due to my trip to Berlin (where I still am, having a wonderful time!). I spent all day stressing about not having taken a pic of the week, when my darling stopped me at an old train station and said 'Hey, you wanna take your picture here?'. It was only then I looked around and it was just the perfect location. She served as my human tripod and I owe a great part of this photo to her.

the apple pickers

The Apple Pickers

it starts with the fall, the way the applies redden on the tree branches, invading the entire orchard tenaciously.  There were rows of apple trees, of peach trees, cherries and pears. But the apples were the most important of all the land — plump and juicy, they were known to make the best apple jams and pies in the state. 

The twins rose early on harvest days. Their usual sleepiness disappeared as soon as their parents started to call their workers to the Orchard, the metallic bell resounding through the entire plantation. They picked their baskets and ran across the fields: his hand holding his hat in place as she released her braids from the morning confinement of the bonnet, leaving the scrap of fabric between blueberry bushes and the strawberry field. The smiles lit up their faces; the summer had turned to fall and suddenly everything made sense again, the warmth of the clothing, the commotion and the action of making jam and pie and spending days secluded in the kitchen, surrounded by their helpers. 

The songs of the helpers filled the air as they worked. The twins were a stark contrast to their dark skins, and yet, that was the place where they felt more included. They could sing and dance, they could jump and laugh and cry and no one would shut them up; there would be no punishment, no going to bed without dessert. The helpers? They knew what it was like to be without food. They wouldn't take it from them. It had been that way ever since they were children.

Eldora was their nanny, growing up. Replacing the figure of the grandmother that was too busy entertaining guests, she would sit them on each of her legs, hold them close until they were both asleep. They didn't talk much; they didn't need to, with her. She knew what they needed even they couldn't put it into words. 

They stopped as they reached the Orchard, their eyes following the trail of dark skinned people taking stairs, holding up baskets, singing songs of love and longing. And mourning. They were singing a song of mourning for Eldora, and the twins sat on the fence while the men and women gathered in a circle, placing their baskets in the middle. 

The boy threw an apple in the air while they stared, his concentration showing in the way he always caught it, always threw it at the same height. The girl twisted her braid between her fingers, a sign of nervousness. She should be in nursing school and he should be helping Daddy with the sales, at the office: but there they were, the clothes from when they were young teenagers only half-fitting, the hat and the checkered shirts and the skirt too short. And they were exactly where they wanted to be.

they stood still, eyes glued to the spectacle before them. There were colors and music and the smell of apples in the air. 

The servants danced now, a young girl they knew as Ginny singing a song of magic and love and the sacred land of God. And with that song in mind, they picked up their baskets and moved to help.

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Story 1/52

Welcome to my new weekly project, 52 Stories. Don't forget to this blog or Flickr to see the photos and stories posted every Friday afternoon! 

I hope you like the project and that you follow it as enthusiastically as I am making it. These projects are nothing without your words, your opinions and your encouragement, so don't be shy! Talk to me!