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Fog

Arthur Brash | March 9, 2010 | 2:07

For the last few days the city lies under a blanket of spring fog. The snow recedes, the earth bleeds water flooding everything. From my sixth floor residence, I watch the peaks of trees and the few tall buildings hold their own above the milky mess that clings to the earth below.

I take another shot of Troika, attempting to smother a realisation… the realisation that where ever I go I will find landscapes that leave the soul breathless, while the absence of the people I’ve left behind will forever leave me feeling fragmented.

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Puppeteer

Arthur Brash | February 19, 2010 | 14:37

 
“At last, when you free the marionette from its strings it’ll lie lifeless before you, for that which binds it is also its life source. And if you’re truly a great man you will breathe life back into it, inspire it to live a life of its own – for freedom without inspiration is the worst kind of death.”

– Arthur Brash
 
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Pieces of me

Arthur Brash | February 17, 2010 | 11:08

When I was a child, I’ve cut up a picture into a puzzle. When that was done, I reassembled the pieces, and then cut them into ever smaller bits for a tougher challenge. My father warned me that the pieces I’m making will be too small to be ever put together again.

I tried long and hard but never did manage to prove him wrong.

Father never did have any words of wisdom that stuck, and in that way he remains a hollow being. But as I look around me, I’m struck by a notion that perhaps I’m again cutting things into pieces too small to ever form a proper whole – only this time I’m cutting apart my essence.

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Elements

Arthur Brash | February 14, 2010 | 0:01
But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

– Khalil Gibran

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Protected: Walking on Air

Arthur Brash | February 13, 2010 | 0:54

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