Writing like Breton

This was a challenging exercise because I am so accustomed to writing formally. Nonetheless, here is what went through my mind - more or less coherently - as I looked over the images.



Two prehistoric beasts walking through a forest for the first time. Glancing at their surroundings, curious of the primal earth which lays under their feet, they look into the forest, expecting to see danger, but decide to venture forth. The male is particularly aware of the inhabitants of the forest, being he is the protector of his female companion. She, on the other hand, is virtually oblivious to the unseen dangers of the wood, happy to be out in her natural environment. They walk slowly into the shelter of the forest, waiting to see what surprises await them as they travel along the path. Noises are the next thing that becomes alarmingly clear – sounds of earth crumbling beneath their heavy feet, and a stream flowing nearby – and the duo begin to ponder, once again, the fate of their trek.



Life before life – as it becomes in the womb. The child within who is none other than you and that special someone. The cord of life separated – cut away – at the instant of birth. The child enters its new life outside the womb in a compromising position. Now the doctor holds the baby by its feet and briskly slaps out the beating of its heart. A strange and eerie sound, the child takes its first gulp of air and cries out like a fledgling animal. But inside the womb, its movements are neither heard nor registered, save for tiny kicks. Being in the womb is like being in an ocean of time. There is no practical will or self-awareness, and one can hardly imagine a more consuming state of living.



Birds of a feather flock together in an artistic attempt to capture the essence of avian life as a symbol of freedom. Freedom to fly across great plains of earth, to ascend over strange and distant landscapes, to land in trees as an ever-reliable substitute to earthen platform, and to group together as a flock of brothers. A painting of avian freedoms drenched in oriental hues, it sheds light on the nature of birds, as well as authenticates their presence as sky-bound creatures. The realm of birds is that invisible realm of which humans also occupy: that endless sea of air that infiltrates our lungs and sustains our physiologies, but never fully takes purpose as a place to call home.