Subject matter is limited. That’s OK. I am happy seeking less.
Signs of life, like ghostly apparitions, like memories fading before our eyes.
I realize this might be tough to appreciate, especially viewed small & on screen. But I really dig it, so I’m going with it anyway.
I like the way the twig looks like it’s painted on with a fine brush. And how it captures the bleakness of winter but not without a measure of stark beauty.
34/365: twig in snow