Till Kingdom Come: Details from a renaissance dreamland.

 Each time I walk through the rooms of the palace of the Louvre, I am constantly struck by new and unfamiliar details. While everyone is swooning over Venus or La Joconde, I lock eyes with aspects such as a door, a ceiling, a corner, or a forgotten wall. Symbols and memories of monarchs of the past, I stand in admiration of the golden ages, and I realize how even the smallest details can influence any creative being, transforming what we capture into our personal form of expression.

To whom your presence is always extant, not only in your great attractions, but in the details you left behind…

The world was their kingdom 

Across vast plains and open seas 

The age of terrifying glory 

Or glorious terror as it seems

As I walk through these walls, you are awakened 

Where eternal sleep has slayed your fight

But a dreamer's heart is seldom mistaken

And a promise whispers: "We have yet to bid the world goodnight."

I salute a regal presence in turbulent dance

Through walls and spaces brimming in betrayal, drained by romance 

Some look down with arrogance in their flair 

While others remain broken from a dreadful affair 

And as some proclaim their victories 

Others shall morn throughout the centuries 

Kings and Queens of an abundant past 

In hopes and prayers of tales that may last 

Your Sleeping Majesties and esteemed guest

For in your kingdom I shall always pay my respects

“And may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest”

“My Crown is in my heart, not on my head:

Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:

Nor to be seen: my Crown is call'd Content,

A Crown it is, that seldom Kings enjoy.” 

William Shakespeare

  

"HER RECKLESS HEART" REVIEWS THE COLLECTIONS FOR D’NA

The carpets are rolled back, the flashes dimmed, the stages are empty and all the glamorous people have gone back to glamour land. As the streets start clearing and reality kicks in, I sit back sipping my coffee recapping this season Fall / Winter 2014 highlights…


http://www.dnariyadh.com/moodboard/20140323-her-reckless-heart-reviews-the-collections-for-dna

My Words, Your Eyes: Inspired by Peter Linbergh's Windy Summer, Vogue Italia 1999.

You Cannot Carry the Wind in Your Arms.

 Slow down… Slow down

You run a fictitious race. For the winds you are dancing with can be deceiving. A mythical shelter that will perish once you are defenseless and have run out of breath. Even the most fervent gaze will not be capable to thoroughly detect her. Your hands will reach a great distance, yet she remains intangible. For once she belongs to the vast sky, and at last she is free. She dances over the landscapes and plains of forgotten highways and broken roads, a captivating contradiction of prayer and destruction. Discard your sense of touch and wallow in feeling, for you can only take a breath deprived from seizing. 

Slow down… Slow down

For today she is the aftermath of a beautiful storm, from which she still bears the weight of the heavy drops of his reign, and the occasional roar of his thunder. Somewhere between the heavens and earth, a bewildered heart yielded to a thundercloud. For now, she speaks only to the faint stars of the night sky, brilliant and broken. 

Slow down… Slow down

She moves willingly and uncontrollably, with dignity even in her disturbance. Exhausted in the unknown, gradually, shedding the debris of a hypnotizing whirlwind. Towards an unidentified destination, she maneuvers her remaining strength for as long as she is destined. And until the day has come, she prevails as her own sovereign, until she attains clarity and alas surrenders to gravity. But for now, a thundercloud still roars in the distance, she is in the midst of winter, and still the rainfall is dense. But someday she will fall on new land, and maybe just maybe catch a vibrant kite in her zephyr.

We will have all the time in the world.