some have a light of their own
delicate and levied waiting for a sunbeam. Quiet, frozen and patient under the clouds of a Sunday of April.
“I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free. ”Michelangelo
long nights. Awaiting.
possibly on the last warm day of the year the sun shines through the newly installed panes over the very patient and stubborn folks at the Glyptothek
in a swirl of colour, a blur of movement
she comes and goes, the lights of the city behind, spare a thought, what is that light?
in mid november one hour before sunset taking a walk by the alter noerdliche Friedhof in Munich