Friday, November 26, 2004

Last Fire

It is the end of Autumn and the sharp smell of distant winter snow is in the air. All is calm and quiet. The bustle of life is gone and there is only acceptance and waiting. The world is at it's most austere; colours faded out but clear, as though all has been made clean and crystal. And yet there is a small flame that still resists the inevitability of the snow.

(click on the picture to see a larger version)

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