From illusions to reality.

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A friend once called me an incurable romantique. I laughed. She did not know me well.  Even so she somehow was right: she did see something in me. Another person told me that I am “o fantezistă”. This person was also right. And now what does all this mean? That I might have to return to reality; with a little observation:

It is not about “my reality” anymore.  

These words have lots of meanings to me. You might not understand what I trully want to say, but please enjoy the flower instead – this blog is about photography. ok, and me 🙂

For those who did not see my illusions. Same flower. Different feelings. 

One Comment

  1. Sometimes I think illusions are a language all their own. Layers of diaphanous silk thoughts and subtle movements of the body shielded behind probing eyes and smiles of various truths and emotions. What are we then, but the blend of what we show in the layers of silk and that which we hide beneath it all. There is a certain beauty to it as we choose what we see or don’t see. Lovely illusions, Alina.

    Like

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