Dear Photograph

I stumbled across this site DearPhotograph.com an I loved the idea and artistry of it.  Taking a photograph of a photograph; reliving the memories, feeling the change from then through now.  It also made me a bit sad.  I wish I had that one constant place in my life.  Part of my envies those who have.  My husbands family still live in the same house he grew up in.  His family has roots that go deep; my family, well not so much.  The pictures also made me long.  A longing for the innocence and joy the past always seems to hold.  

Check the site, it's beautiful.

under the same moon and stars,
ibs

p.s.  disclaimer: none of the photos are mine in anyway legaleeze legaleeze legaleeze....

Do you believe in fate?

do you believe in fate? destiny?  are you pre-destined? or do you make your own destiny?  I like to believe that we have at least some say in how and where our lives end up.  No, you don't have to climb mount everest, or travel the world, unless that is where your heart is.  If living your day to day life~ laughing with your friends and family is enough, then it is enough.  Our lives change, and so do our aspirations for ourselves.  Live your life on your terms and let Fate fend for itself.  

Fate

That you are fair or wise is vain,

Or strong, or rich, or generous;

You must have also the untaught strain

That sheds beauty on the rose.

There is a melody born of melody,

Which melts the world into a sea.

Toil could never compass it,

Art its height could never hit,

It came never out of wit,

But a music music-born

Well may Jove and Juno scorn.

Thy beauty, if it lack the fire

Which drives me mad with sweet desire,

What boots it? what the soldier's mail,

Unless he conquer and prevail?

What all the goods thy pride which lift,

If thou pine for another's gift?

Alas! that one is born in blight,

Victim of perpetual slight;—

When thou lookest in his face,

Thy heart saith, Brother! go thy ways!

None shall ask thee what thou doest,

Or care a rush for what thou knowest,

Or listen when thou repliest,

Or remember where thou liest,

Or how thy supper is sodden,—

And another is born

To make the sun forgotten.

Surely he carries a talisman

Under his tongue;

Broad are his shoulders, and strong,

And his eye is scornful,

Threatening, and young.

I hold it of little matter,

Whether your jewel be of pure water,

A rose diamond or a white,—

But whether it dazzle me with light.

I care not how you are drest,

In the coarsest, or in the best,

Nor whether your name is base or brave,

Nor tor the fashion of your behavior,—

But whether you charm me,

Bid my bread feed, and my fire warm me,

And dress up nature in your favor.

One thing is forever good,

That one thing is success,—

Dear to the Eumenides,

And to all the heavenly brood.

Who bides at home, nor looks abroad,

Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.