Lyra is a thousand million types of wonderful. She’s wilful. She’s fierce. She’s a firebrand. She’s on fire. She is luminescent and wild.
Seeing that word gave me an immediate tap into a distinct childhood memory. A good tale, because, like so many good yarns, it’s tinged with a faint hue of horror.
Run your fingers over the keys. Oh, let’s just call it what it is. Caress the keys. It’s a slow dance of creativity and love.
Something can be pause for thought, a good hearty laugh, or a chance for learning and discovery.
What’s still out there that you haven’t yet managed to read?
There’s advice everywhere about how to write more, or find new photos, or set challenges to create new things. That’s not what I need. I need a way to shut out all the new stuff, so I can find a more meaningful image or write a better story.
Other days the skies are full of grey, rolling clouds and the paths shimmer from the rain. I’ve been trying to capture that eloquent moment between the rain and the sun.