Next week is my birthday and taking advantage of the “You Pick it” challenge that Ann-Christine has launched for us, I have decided to move forward a bit to celebrate it with my friends from Lens-Artists.
At fifty I grew wings. My breasts and the thoughts I carried as a child stopped weighing. I taught the wings to fly from my mind that it had always flown, and I saw from the air that while I was sleeping for so many years someone was busily picking feathers to make those wings. I was lucky that when they were made, they found me awake. Poem by Begoña Abad
Posted as part of Lens-Artists: You pick it