Today is the Autumn Equinox/Mid-Autumn festival. My usually tedious commute back to San Francisco was brightened by the most beautiful full moon against a soft pastel blue sky fading into pink and gray at the horizon. Twilight. It’s a scene that reminds me of a nostalgic trip to Maine two summers ago and spurs me to write about a particular favorite (yes, I seem to have many) Sargent piece, ‘In The Luxembourg Gardens’ which I viewed last year at the Boston MFA. The present-day gardens are just as much a place to socialize as it was in 1879. Oh Paris, how I miss thee.

Anyways, back to the piece. The details always struck me most. Notice the mirror-like reflection of the moon in the fountain, the orange dollop at the butt of the cigarette, and the inky black trees. The human figures, like the statues scattered throughout the garden, almost blend into an almost monochromatic landscape. Why the contrast between the human figures who have almost now blended into the background were it not for the small pink, red and orange accents of color?

Despite certain misgivings I have that this piece may touch upon themes of women=domesticated flowers and isolation of foreigners in Paris, I see a romantic scene. Gracefully positioned statues reflect the smartly dressed couple center-left. The orange glow of the gentleman's cigarette is the same orange as part of the lady's fan. The soft hazy brushstrokes give the figures a tangibly gentle, but decorative quality.

It's been a few months since I've been able to notice the beauty around me again after some hard times. I'm glad some part of my old self has been revived.

G passed away today. I’m terribly sad and hope she wasn’t alone. She was even closer to me than the others. I’m happy that she isn’t suffering anymore. I guess there wasn’t much that we could do. I have few regrets. I played with her, kept her company, called often. We discussed the last HP book, boys, and just had a good time. Wow. I should have called last Sunday to check up on her, but lost my phone and couldn’t. But, others had so many other things on their plates too that I’m sure they forgot, being swept up in the pace of things to keep up with others. You remembered my obsession with nymphaeas. I love you G, and thanks for the Monet Lilies card. Yes, even here, the art ties in. I know you’re having a ballin’ good time up there in heaven. I can’t believe that you won’t finish your degree. But thank you for gifting me that Yancey book and photo book. You were amazing. Amazing Glory. Like Superwoman.

From the earth we came,
And to dust we return,
But the animated soul,
Where does it go?

Do angels cry in greeting
As we weep below
For the departure of a light
That needed no tending?

My life realigns
From the wayward side
Every time one last exhales.

To pain, to pain he not knows
Until Death he knows.

Unfortunate in compassion are they who have not wept
And bitter they who cannot love.

Love and compassion go hand in hand.
Until then do not approach.
For a danger you are, reckless of hearts,
Fostering harshness and ugliness of souls.

Just an impromptu poem. Pretty rudimentary, but eh, my language/word association skills are apparently in the top 1% of the population. So I’m just assuming it makes some kind of flow sense. I apologize if you’re horrified that I’d subject you to such bad writing, hehe.