In Flagstaff Garden’s tempered light,
a man prepares his borrowed face
fine strokes of crimson, coal, and white,
a quiet ritual in the open space.
Brush whispers over skin like breath,
each line a memory, each curve a vow;
the living paying homage to death,
the ancient blooming through him now.
Around him, Melbourne hums its day,
trams singing past in their iron tune,
yet here he stands in calm display,
a blossom painted for the moon.
For Mexico’s bright festival,
he dons the mask of joy and sorrow
a face that says the past is full,
and we must greet it come tomorrow.
Sony A7RV
FE 135mm f1.8 GM
Check out Candid 1013
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