Gianna Marie – My Little Sunflower

My niece Gianna is now 2 years old (27 months to be more exact) and she is a little ball of sunshine. She’s happy just to be outside any time of day. She loves swimming in the pool, picking strawberries from the garden, cooking in her pretend kitchen, playing hide and peek (seek), and most recently…baking cookies with Auntie CC (that’s me :D). I just had to sneak in a small picture session during my impromptu 2 day visit to Phoenix.

See the whole set on my flickr!



Tea Time

I enjoy creating magic in my images…behold the flying teapot! Just a reminder to all… when you have a boring moment in life, create something whimsical!



The Mirror

Take with you the Mirror again, only to glance and glare at the sun indirectly through this handheld illusion. A constant battle to find the sun without a barrier – without a shield of some sort… To love, to endure, to nurture, to embellish, to look into the faded maroon glass and see…myself. Finally.




What do we do once we are ash? Tiny fibers of my being manipulate themselves to form a new. Scorched from the fire. A passion for life. To live. To Reform. To Burn again. This need to create by resurrection of oneself beyond comprehension of should and body aligned. This need that will not go unnoticed. un-wasted. For my ash will bloom from the Earth it has fallen to, only to feel the warmth of the fire once more…to fade into ash.



Love <3


an ocean of unanswered questions…reaching far beyond the horizon of this world.

Conditioned Unconditionally.

Be. Mine.



Random Film Finds

I finally finished a roll of film in a old disposable camera and then stumbled upon an old roll of 400 speed black and white film. I had it developed and was pleasantly surprised with old memories.


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Out the Window

Sitting, watching out the window…too cold to feel a single passion.

Dreaming of a kind of Death.

Voices of birds appear suddenly—chanting their spell at me, or Perhaps, not at all.

Take me away from the unknown, for a riddle never sat well in my mind


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Finding Myself

I told him of my sorrows, for the pain brought upon himself. I spoke a rhythmic sonnet, of lostness.  He replied from Robert Frost, “It’s not until you are so lost that you find yourself”… as I look through words of those once lost…another comes to mind, “Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.” -Henry David Thoreau

Staying true yourself is finding oneself.

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Crooked Spine

She spoke of my crooked spine, though how is she to know? When one is crooked inside, does not always make it so. The x-rays of the past, might have shown the truth, but my soul is in alignment…forsooth.

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