Thursday, August 1, 2013

A picture IS worth a thousand words.

Someone who's been privy to some of my latest as-yet unpublished novel, Where I Am Born, just shared this image with me.  Where I Am Born is the story of two women separated by oceans, generations and war, but connected by something much greater--the gift of wings.”

Here is an excerpt:

The girl from the holding cell came to Lukas in sharp and rounded lines and in bursts of color.  In the early morning, while the town slept, Lukas collected scrap metal in the form of tin cans and wire.  He melted the metal down, cutting out and soldering wings.  With a circa 1955 camera, he took moving pictures of the wings fluttering in the light of Vilnius square, outside the Museum of Atheism.  He hung them, each pair unique, from the ceiling of his shop.  Some of them were left metallic, while others he painted every color of the morning and night sky.  Inside, he’d built a bubble machine that vented onto the street and passageway running perpendicular to his storefront with iridescent bubbles of all shapes and sizes.  Children and adults passing by pointed at his three-story home.  “An inventor lives there.”
“No, he’s a magician.”
“He makes movies.”
“He paints.”
“He takes photographs.”
“I think he is mad.”
Lukas Blasczkiewicz spent his life making and creating.  Ceaseless and devoted, he thought singularly of the girl with the wings who’d saved him from selfishness, depression and self-loathing.  Because of Her, he saw the miracle of life everywhere.  In butterflies, beetles and cockroaches.  In the sky and underfoot.  The antithesis of his Bolshevist enthusiast father, Lukas believed in more than men and their egoistic ventures.  Solitary, he never felt alone.  



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