MOON CHILD MEMORIES
vi kommer till kyrkogården medan solen gör sig redo att gå ner; glöder guld över sin dag, sträcker sig i allt längre skuggor över murar och stenbeläggningar, ~ & gäspar i mjuk, varm vind.
vi pratar inte mycket. melankolin låg i luften redan när vi tog bilen och lämnade trulli huset för den här kvällsrundan. delar av familjen har flugit hem i omgångar, den efterlängtade, & nu saknade, också.
vi har konstaterat att avsked är svårt, så som jag är så tacksam att vi gör i den här familjen, ut med det på bordet; bland burrata, tomater, oliver & vitt vin. där bryter vi bröd och tystnad. fäller tårar. men nu pratar vi inte mycket. nu bara är vi här. mitt bland det vi redan vet att vi ska minnas, alltid, ~ & det som minner om andra människors liv; i blommor, datum, bleknande fotografier & kors, de människor som inte längre går att röra vid, men som kanske bara rest hem.
morgonen efter, innan vi som är kvar ska börja vår bilresa upp genom italien, måste vi tillbaka till kyrkogården en stund; lillasyster och jag. då kommer vi i morgontimmarna. solen står redan högt och är utvilad, full av hetta & vitt ljus. jag får inre bilder av hur skuggorna vandrat kvällen innan, hur det mörknat, ~ & hur allt här sedan varit insvept i bara månljus, flämtande ljuslågor & doften av nattblommande jasmin. jag kommer på mig själv med att undra om de varit stilla. de människor som inte längre går att röra vid, men som kanske bara rest hem.
wardrobe | moon child maxi lace kimono in ’crescent moon’ - LW {launching autumn’14} | black horn moon bracelet comes with the moon child kimono in black - ’dark moon’ | necklace is lover from LW | golden arrows tattoo is a flash tat from flash tattoos thank you | cimitero comune di alberobello | baby sister e for clicking the shutter and visiting
cemeteries with me, no matter the hour
tech specs | canon eos 5d mark II / canon ef 50mm 1:1.4 {i do the settings, e shoots & i edit}
© hannah lemholt photography
//
we arrive at the cemetery as the sun is getting ready to set; glowing gold over its day, stretching in longer and longer shadows over stone walls and pavings; yawning in soft, warm wind.
we don’t talk much. melancholy was already in the air as we got in the car, left the trulli house for this evening excursion. parts of the family has flown home, and the someone longed for,
~ & now missed, has too.
we’ve all agreed that farewells are hard. the way i’m so thankful we do in this family, bring it to the table; among burrata, tomatoes, olives & white wine. where we break bread and silence. shed tears. but now we don’t talk much. we’re just here. amid the memories we already know will stay with us always, ~ & that which reminds us of the lives of others; in flowers, dates, fading photographs and crosses, they who no longer can be touched, but who might have just journeyed home.
the morning after, before the last four of us begin our road trip through italy, we have to return to the cemetery for a while; baby sister e and me. this time we arrive in the morning hours. the sun is already high in the sky, well-rested; spreading heat & white light. i get inner images of how the shadows has wandered the night before, how it darkened, ~ & how all of this then was wrapped in only moonlight, flickering candle flames and the scent of night blooming jasmine. i find myself wondering if they stayed still then. they who no longer can be touched, but who might have just journeyed home.
love, in italian,
h
cemeteries with me, no matter the hour
tech specs | canon eos 5d mark II / canon ef 50mm 1:1.4 {i do the settings, e shoots & i edit}
© hannah lemholt photography
//
we arrive at the cemetery as the sun is getting ready to set; glowing gold over its day, stretching in longer and longer shadows over stone walls and pavings; yawning in soft, warm wind.
we don’t talk much. melancholy was already in the air as we got in the car, left the trulli house for this evening excursion. parts of the family has flown home, and the someone longed for,
~ & now missed, has too.
we’ve all agreed that farewells are hard. the way i’m so thankful we do in this family, bring it to the table; among burrata, tomatoes, olives & white wine. where we break bread and silence. shed tears. but now we don’t talk much. we’re just here. amid the memories we already know will stay with us always, ~ & that which reminds us of the lives of others; in flowers, dates, fading photographs and crosses, they who no longer can be touched, but who might have just journeyed home.
the morning after, before the last four of us begin our road trip through italy, we have to return to the cemetery for a while; baby sister e and me. this time we arrive in the morning hours. the sun is already high in the sky, well-rested; spreading heat & white light. i get inner images of how the shadows has wandered the night before, how it darkened, ~ & how all of this then was wrapped in only moonlight, flickering candle flames and the scent of night blooming jasmine. i find myself wondering if they stayed still then. they who no longer can be touched, but who might have just journeyed home.
love, in italian,
h
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