Category: There Are No Fixed Stars
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Thirty-One – Pathways
There are cars moving on myriad motorways across Europe as I write;I can see them as if from a plane.I imagine the motion, for those within, feels grounded – fast – direct –But to me, they are languidly writing their collective signatures on the night in red and white.Where are they going,All of them,On these…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Thirty – Presence
The chimney stackWith clouds for smoke,And sun for fire,Has much to give;Imagine this sceneWithout it. By Emma Hynes This image and story are part of a project I have devised called There Are No Fixed Stars, my creative response to living with COVID-19 restrictions. On 22 October 2020, Ireland’s highest level of protective measures was invoked nationwide for…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Nine – Perception
What do you see when you encounter this image?Is there anything in it, or about it, that inspires action in you?If so, what?If not, what does it say to you instead? There can be no wrong answers. I will not convey my experience of it,As I feel it is a scene which holds much,And to…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Seven – Lifelines
There are lifelines to be foundIn the curve of an ebbing tide –In the field that undulates –At the newly drawn boundary;The reclamationOf a lost frontier. By Emma Hynes This image and story are part of a project I have devised called There Are No Fixed Stars, my creative response to living with COVID-19 restrictions. On 22 October…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Six – Intertidal
In the intertidal space,Nothing is as sureAs change;Nothing as certainAs tumult –Yet,There are those who reside there;In pools left behindBy the tide,Or in the depthsWhen it’s at its highest.I wonder if the sea anemoneRecoils at the oncoming;If the limpet and musselFlinch at the onslaught;If they feel the weight –The reliefWhen the flood recedes.No –For they…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Four – The Oblivious Bird
The small bird knows not what the sight of it in flight can do for those who cannot leave the ground. It is not cognisant of the capacity of its own song to bring music in the moment. It is unaware of the awe invoked by its pattern and colour. It cannot conceive of its…
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There Are No Fixed Stars – Day Twenty-Three – All That Is Lost
This is the tree that spoke for itself. For which no words of mine were forthcoming when I photographed it five days ago, and came to respond with The Honest Writer.This is the tree that saw me assert that when a work of art has its own authentic and resounding voice, writing can only ever…