It's Still Life

Spring Spring Spring

The daffodils are blooming. Spring. I had to repeat it several times. Spring. Just to believe it.

Mum had set the old family bible on the table—my line-of-sight at that small age, “Our family line all die in the winter,” and she buried the point deep into me with her finger pressing punctuation into the book’s leather cover. And it seemed true—generation after generation for hundreds of years. December, January, February. “The Bible never lies,” she said, and I believed that, too.

Mum passed away seven years ago—in September.

Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2025.