one slip

It reminds me of fire.


in a never ending quest for the least aggressive of imaged vision a simple slip of the tongue as it were and the frame without eye or ego in mind imprints pure perception within the confines of the medium


This the shot I was after, repeated I know.


water washed away the space where the one eye fell in place where the smile seemed to say look this way if you want to see

after becoming seeds spread
from certain tree the shapes
as circles lose their identity