Leigh Craven

Rustling leaves whisper in my ear. Tangles of twigs touch my skin. I step further into the landscape. My hand opens and I watch as charred remains fly and twist in the wind; ashy remnants of past memories catch upon fluttering wings. Reappearing shadows elude me, hauntingly beautiful in their impermanence.

Rustling leaves whisper in my ear. Tangles of twigs touch my skin.I step further into the landscape. My hand opens and I watch as charred remains fly and twist in the wind; ashy remnants of past memories catch upon fluttering wings. Reappearing shadows elude me, hauntingly beautiful in their impermanence.