Si amas la libertad de tus ojos es que sabes que tu mirada es “el paisaje”. Que tu retina recoja todo el azul profuso que habita el cielo. Porque el azul de tus ojos no profana silencios y tus palabras son dulces como lenta floración de asfódelos. Que descubran tus ojos la vigencia del vacío, el valor de lo invisible en las vísceras del cielo.
By Santiago Aguadad - in reply to

This morning I woke to find the jacaranda blossoms, a soft blue that runs into purple, have been arranged by the wind onto the green lawn in our garden. I can see the curved shadow they caste, and the blue mauve on the grass is like sweet sections of sky that the tree has fished down.

Later I went for a long walk following the ridge that runs around the bay, to the middle headland that extends into the harbour. At first I notice just one, then dozens, then hundreds of white butterflies which have emerged from the wild heath land. They are powder white, with black edges, and so many of them travelling in casual pairs that I can watch their shadows on the pathway, and the whole air is laced and woven with their movement – which is fabulously incessant and erratic. They ride the wind, beat madly, fly straight up, they go sideways and backwards, and for an hour they don’t stop. When I get back to my house they are starting to settle on the spring flowers- the callistemon and grevilleas. The blue sky is flecked white with them like they are impossible animated snow. I can’t think or talk properly for watching them.

I am reading Antonia Porcia “I am chained to the earth to pay for the freedom of my eyes.” I like very much the freedom of my eyes.

Carol Jenkins