© anita aguilar
Monday, June 25, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
read a good poem: muse

MUSE
after reading Rilke
No angel speaks to me.
And though the wind
plucks the dry leaves
as if they were so many notes
of music, I can hear no words.
Still, I listen. I search
the feathery shapes of clouds
hoping to find the curve of a wing.
And sometimes, when the static
of the world clears just for a moment
a small voice comes through,
chastening. Music
is its own language, it says.
Along the indifferent corridors
of space, angels could be hiding.
--Linda Pastan via washingtonart.com
midtown nyc, june 7 2012
all photos © anita aguilar
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
pretty city, paris 2012: bright encounter, in nouvelle athens
skies were grim in paris on the morning i took to the streets of the 9th arrondissement.
then i encountered this young family, holding hands while walking la rue.
believe it or not, the sun broke through--if only for a few minutes--shortly after they let me make a photo...
(LOVE)
then i encountered this young family, holding hands while walking la rue.
believe it or not, the sun broke through--if only for a few minutes--shortly after they let me make a photo...
(LOVE)
Monday, June 4, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
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