When a picture speaks, limited words on a page suffice. Mother and daughter. Friends of mine. Mother, a student in my music-life circle a long time, and her young daughter.
Out of my geography for a few years, but never out of my heart. Her family is my family. This happens when music ties once unknowns together through teacher-student connections. I love this family. Mother, her sister and brother … parents. All of them. They are musical, kind, generous, warm, productive, open, and giving.
Daughter, sweet and dancy – with a “d”. Fancy, with an “f”, places her in a box of stuffiness … among elites and noseys. She does not belong in there. She dances between daisies, bounces on sunbeams, and feeds on happiness.
Picture her eyes above. Few words necessary from me. This connection – from her to us – pushes through the internal biases and filters in your head as you consider her life. She is pure and innocent and her eyes are exposing our different messages being sent to her generation.
She is not unaware of the world around her. Look at her eyes. Look away.
Then look again.
She’s not going away. We are accountable … not to our ourselves, but to her and her friends.
Her words are few, as are mine today. My eyes aren’t as fresh or aware anymore because my mountains have been climbed and my biases possibly tainted. Glasses I wear are bifocals and my crow’s feet are starting to show.
Fresh and alive are her eyes. Bright and beautiful is her future.
Pay attention to her message. It’s in her eyes.