Six on Saturday, hosted by The Propagator. I’m late again but really what’s the difference between one day and the next? This week I’m featuring blue. Blues. All photos taken in New Hampshire this month.
“For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go. … Blue is the color of longing for the distances you never arrive in, for the blue world.” ― Rebecca Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost
“Those purples and blues softened and brightened. Light from inside caught in their curves. In one minute they looked soft as new snow. The next, hard as slices of a frozen river.” — Anna-Marie McLemore, from Wild Beauty
“The blue seems eternal;” — Virginia Woolf, from diary entry 22 May 1919
“blue as cold can be,
one frosty January day,
like the lost blue yonder,
the world asunder, blue …” — M Williams, from “Red White & Blue”
“Blue is the insides of something mysterious and lonely. I’d look at fish and birds, thinking the sky and water colored them. The first abyss is blue. An artist must go beyond the mercy of satin or water — from a gutty hue to that which is close to royal purple. All seasons and blossoms inbetween. Lavender. Theatrical and outrageous electric. Almost gray. True and false blue. Water and oil. The gas jet breathing in oblivion. The unstruck match. The blue of absence. The blue of deep presence. The insides of something perfect. — Yusef Komunyakaa, from Blue Notes: Essays, Interviews, and Commentaries
“There should be a word for when blue goes
from powder to midnight. From
sea to vein. From origin to eclipse.” — Scherezade Siobhan, from “Radius”
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