Red Feathers and Blackbird Wings.
An owl hooted from the trees beyond the creek. Ada counted off the rhythm of the five-beat phrase as if scanning a line of poetry: a long, two shorts, two longs. Death bird, people said of the owl, though Ada could see no reason why. The call was so soft and lovely in the slaty light, like a dove’s cry but with more substance to it.
-Ada, Cold Mountain
For those of you who previously knew me as 'anotherdamnartist' or 'ada,' please note the new domain name;
We often watch the leaves transfigure and fall every year, we watch owls molt their pelts every season. It is human to observe this with remorse or awe of how easily it is for them to shed the old despite it's beauty. I've been going to school in New York, quite a significant change in my life, leaving the old behind and gaining the new. I regret saying that I haven't been able to see the changing leaves very much this year.
However, I have been watching my life change so much like the trees and the owls.
email:misssamantharusso@gmail.com
aim:amockingbirdsong
-miss russo flickr.
-hello, a collection.
-tell me something.
-Ada, Cold Mountain
For those of you who previously knew me as 'anotherdamnartist' or 'ada,' please note the new domain name;
We often watch the leaves transfigure and fall every year, we watch owls molt their pelts every season. It is human to observe this with remorse or awe of how easily it is for them to shed the old despite it's beauty. I've been going to school in New York, quite a significant change in my life, leaving the old behind and gaining the new. I regret saying that I haven't been able to see the changing leaves very much this year.
However, I have been watching my life change so much like the trees and the owls.
email:misssamantharusso@gmail.com
aim:amockingbirdsong
-miss russo flickr.
-hello, a collection.
-tell me something.
