The final instalment for TLE; this week's imagery comes via the desk of Elisa Routa in the South West corner of France. Thirty-five millimetre monochromed moments.

Anima

People seek her out from time to time

They come to see the scars and the stories in her face

They want to know if the lines around her eyes hold answers

Or if the plight of her trial grows heavy


Of course, she replies, with her giant whisper

Proceeding to describe clear mornings and the smell of sea

Dawn sun and horsetails dancing

Passengers, passengers, cradled by her hands


She sips pinches of air, glass shards of passing time

As the forevers slip by, merging one into one

Until all of her rooftops are fringed with wire

And the beauty of promises scalds and scabs


Dull light leaks through the dirty cloth she has hung

Bringing the clatter of traffic from the street, thick with gum

She is wondering, rambling, tongue thickened

Clogged with sediment, spiked inclement with chemicals


Roaring about running light in valley canyons

Trackless forests from shore to shore

Eyes gleaming dull fire that could torch her earth

For seedlings to ghost up between the cracks


People seek her out from time to time

They come to view the stories in her eyes

To see if her creases soothe their troubles

If the end of her time grows near


She is the discomfort you cannot live without

Feathered wings, broken tooth, crooked claw

Even as you turn away from her fury

Her smile sings out like a beacon, wider than oceans, beckoning more.

photo by Elisa Routa
photo by Elisa Routa
photo by Elisa Routa
photo by Elisa Routa
photo by Elisa Routa

For more of Elisa's work (including her writing) visit: http://elisarouta.fr