Far And Away The Flame, The Flowers

Awakening at the far side of the house, the presence of yellow originating in a chaos of flowers. In a small room a kind of peacefulness looms. Wound round its state of quiet ease, an hour – then two, quickly passing. Connected to this hush, her sister, meticulously studying the details of an old family photograph just a few steps away. Tiny touches of paint begin to impart an image. Imbued with spirit, one and then the other of her mother's eyes slowly evolve on a taut white canvas. – And over there, something she loves about the scattered uncertainty of a butterfly's flight path draws her toward the open window. Life outside – the butterflies, the flowers, the restless breeze, the flame of the sun, pulls her far and away from the swell of solitude inside. Sweetly the mind dreams as all else fades away – everything becoming but an echo…