In memory of the Strawberry Moon

Two young women are sitting on the precipice. One of them looks at the sunset, while the other one gazes at her tenderly. There is a mountain landscape behind them.
Contentment by Maxfield Parrish

~Love has more shades than the sky itself.~

When I let go of your hand many moons ago, deep down, I knew I would never hold it again. I still see your ghost, now and then, hovering over the cliffs and mingling with the mist between the mountains… At sunset, your shadow haunts the valley where we used to dream. We made up stories; we gathered berries and laughed; we conjured up entire lives, intertwining our thoughts like grapevines and drinking their mellow nectar until we were intoxicated with passion.

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A Haunted House

Cliff House, San Francisco, 1901.
Courtesy of the Cliff House Project.

The sultry honey aroma of wild apple trees haunts you, while the darkness of a tangy spring fog envelops the world. Fragile pearl threads stretch from the sky, penetrating the warmth of your skin, leaving dusky traces on the defenseless clothes. You run away, seeking shelter, and return to the house, a black shadow looming over your silhouette, over the luscious garden, over the whole Earth.

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