I don't really know how this is going to pan out but the inspiration came out of the most cliched of sources -  a fat, perfectly shaped, thickly coloured rainbow. Not every spring of my life will be spent waking up to a blue-tinged dawn that slowly dissolves into a pink stain over contemplative indigo. Is it darkest before dawn? Yes and No. Depends on what colour passion is for you. Nor would every winter be spent being woken up by thudding whooshing sounds that take your feet to the window to see outside a white that is both screaming and silent. Snow has an element of evil in it. Apparently I have synesthesia of sorts. I just discovered today. I attribute sounds to colours and colours to smells. Vangibath smells are russet coloured; morning mouth smells are teal; the smell of brewing tea is undoubtedly cream.. well I can go on.  I have always done it as a lazy mental hobby but apparently it is one of the several abnormalities I seem to have :P

So taking advantage of this newest discovery and the growing knowledge that nothing lasts forever, I decided to write a photo poem.
P.S: A friend who hates to be named in blogs would recognise where the nickname pink and brown came from. :D

P.P.S: All photographs are views from my window, mostly in Amsterdam, a few in Aarhus. Photos are mostly taken by me except where mentioned. For me, every two lines of the poem corresponds  to a particular picture (and they are in the same order). But of course, you are welcome to read it however you like.

A line of verse for every image
A spring like this every year
Who can predict what will make you gaze

Look, how serenely trickles in love. Fear
for its transience; it will break your heart


Like how this tree, lingering and bare
And me, will always be far apart

Colours of kindness, pink blue and grey
That stop me from hurrying to somewhere else

I've looked out of the window
and I have learnt to float

Darkness before dawn too is a half-pretence
It preens likewise even before dusk, note.

There is always a rainbow
Only if you care enough

But that too will fade into the night
Just hold nothing too tight.

Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
pic by Judy Wanderi
Picture
Picture