Midnight. Christmas. Abstracts. Tissue and Lights.

I stayed up late on Christmas Eve.

I didn’t really consider why, but I didn’t want to go to bed until late.

Maybe I was waiting for Santa.

Midnight came.

I filled the woodstove, to combat the night’s chill.

I waited for the fresh logs to burn hot enough so I could damp the stove down.

I took pictures while waiting.

For a while I “focused” on a gift for my wife.

Crumpled tissue paper decorated the top of her package.


Tissue paper is so thin as to be translucent.


The tissue, so thin and small, took on a new life and scale.


With no size reference, the miniature can be monumental.


To move even slightly is to see an entirely different scene.


There were geographies in the opacities of folds and tranlucities of thinness.

There were cities of treelights.


Were they cities?

Maybe they were stars?

Or galaxies, light years away, seen by telescope.


Or as of creatures of our oceans’ abysses.


Phosphorescent creatures, living forever beyond the reach of the sun.

Creatures whose only speech is light.

3 responses to “Midnight. Christmas. Abstracts. Tissue and Lights.

    • I think I was born that way. Most of us are, actually, and then as we grow up,imagination and play get beaten out of us. I’ve been too ornery to lose the imagination part of me. It makes like fun, more bearable, and funnier.

  1. Waiting for the logs to catch and burn hot enough . . . That and Sharon’s question remind me how important waiting can be. When you’re waiting, you notice things you don’t notice when you’re busy. You think things you wouldn’t think otherwise. Images come to those who wait. Image -> imagination . . .

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