The sleeping wait

by DRM

Shall we, too, rise forgetful from our sleep,
And shall my soul that lies within your hand
Remember nothing, as the blowing sand
Forgets the palm where long blue shadows creep
When winds along the darkened desert sweep?
Sara Teasdale

The camera penetrates the thick viscous fluid the fetus swims in. Her sleep is untroubled. She isn’t aware of the loaded hope and wonder we watch her with. Our circuity fires in single and combined sequences: memories, longing, desires.

A child is an infinite mystery. We never see them clearly. We are always staring through a scrim that experience has manufactured.

This first image should tell us the whole story: Stand back and wait. The mysteries of life, rich, bountiful and inscrutable, are about to flower before you.