Небо покрыто туманом, белой дымкой забытых снов. В нем виднеются деревья и травы, черные когти и живые глаза. В этот хрупкий миг, едины земная твердь и небесный купол. Едины глаза и их отражение. Вечность. Она начертана на руках. Прерывистые линии судеб. Но шепчут деревья старую сказку, о той чьи пути скрыла ночная мгла. О гостье из мира видений, того, что лишен цвета, того что отражен на белесых нитях тумана. На руках, что укутала ночь, не начертаны новые тропы. Лишь миг для неё, миг краткий как жизнь звезды и долгий как путь человека. Но миг проходит, рассеивается туман. Впереди только вечность. Вечность забытых видений. Сон, что будет длиться до того часа, когда на черную землю, не опустится вновь белое полотно тумана.
The sky is covered with fog, a white haze of forgotten dreams. It shows trees and grasses, black claws, and living eyes. In this fragile moment, the firmament of the earth and the dome of the sky are one. The eyes and their reflection are one. Forever. It is written on the hands. Broken lines of fates. But the trees whisper an old fairy tale, about the one whose path was hidden by the night mist. About a visitoress from the world of visions, the one that is devoid of color, the one that is reflected on the whitish threads of fog. No new paths are written on the hands that are wrapped in the night. Only a moment for her, a moment as brief as the life of a star and as long as the path of a man. But the moment passes, the fog clears. Only eternity lies ahead. An eternity of forgotten visions. A dream that will last until the hour when a white sheet of fog will fall again on the black earth.
The sky is covered with fog, a white haze of forgotten dreams. It shows trees and grasses, black claws, and living eyes. In this fragile moment, the firmament of the earth and the dome of the sky are one. The eyes and their reflection are one. Forever. It is written on the hands. Broken lines of fates. But the trees whisper an old fairy tale, about the one whose path was hidden by the night mist. About a visitoress from the world of visions, the one that is devoid of color, the one that is reflected on the whitish threads of fog. No new paths are written on the hands that are wrapped in the night. Only a moment for her, a moment as brief as the life of a star and as long as the path of a man. But the moment passes, the fog clears. Only eternity lies ahead. An eternity of forgotten visions. A dream that will last until the hour when a white sheet of fog will fall again on the black earth.
Natalie Ina & Lik Soran
The shadow of forest gloom.
Model: Katerina Agapova.
May 2021.
Natalie Ina Photography.
