Majda Schmiedová

Majda Schmiedová

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Majda Schmiedová
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We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.  They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to middle Earth.”  ~ GEORGE R.R.MARTIN

I held out my hand. The dried crusty leave lay limp in my hand. Then it glowed a deep golden umber. Into the air. Just like the pieces of my life. taken away from me, was the leaf, it's composition flying away.