Dust storms howl across the plains and our town, once again. Microscopically fine, brown dust tests every pore and crevice in structures, looking for access to the inner sanctums of the human abodes. By afternoon the winds diminish. I venture into our back yard to assess damages and find images of peace and promises of joy.
© Ilija Lukić 2011
© Ilija Lukić 2011
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| Christmas Cactus |
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| Fertility Godess |
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| Flor De Maio |
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| In The Limelight |
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| Naked Singularity |
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| Speaking In Tongues |
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