A footprint is a sign; a handprint is a message.
This one says: I choose transparency because that’s the best way to hide.
Solitude is a salt lake with five inlets.
Sand can return to stone, but can glass ever return to sand?
My hand was so thick, I couldn’t see the fog in front of me.
Ice is a form of immobility that doesn’t keep. By the time I got my photos of the ice storm home & took them out of my camera, they had already lost almost all their glitter.
When the sky falls, it clings to everything. Trees snap with the weight of it. Beauty is best kept at arm’s length.
If it weren’t for wonder, I might have to go make something of myself.
Trees in the winter aren’t sleeping; they’re procrastinating.
Always remember that nature is out to kill you.
Inspired by the posts at the communal self-portrait site Autography (tagline: “Self-Portrait as Story”).
Dave Bonta (bio) crowd-sources his problems by following his gut, which he shares with 100 trillion of his closest microbial friends — a close-knit, symbiotic community comprising several thousand species of bacteria, fungi, and protozoa. In a similarly collaborative fashion, all of Dave’s writing is available for reuse and creative remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License. For attribution in printed material, his name (Dave Bonta) will suffice, but for web use, please link back to the original. Contact him for permission to waive the “share alike” provision (e.g. for use in a conventionally copyrighted work).