Mum

It was beautiful day when my mother died. 
She was the one who taught me to hold a pencil in my hand. She taught me what eternal beauty means.
I went to the building at the top of the mountain to see her one last time; the day I dressed her one last time; It was just an empty cocoon…. Her beautiful and wild spirit had left her frail body. I did not cry - 
I kissed her small white feet knowing too soon when invisible things are gone there is nothing left … nothing to see, nothing to show, nothing to express, nothing to paint ... only to feel and listen and know.

CdB 2010