dahlia
emotion cycles
(Auditory Sculpture)

Capturing a fairy on film is difficult. They are very small and they hide behind flowers, their songs float into our ears, lose us deep into the forest until it is night and everything is purple, the world circling, the fairies singing, flying. I caught a lucky one on my birthday, wings beating as I came upon the music, because she knew, and let me. Days past, the songs still play in my head, the fairy voices ethereal like dew, rain drops the beating pulse of fairy dance, stars and moon all a different harmony, whispering about those lured and lost to fairy lust, the trees, the bugs and the flowers, like dahlias, hiding under the winter.

Cato