Creatrix

Gold dust and female power 

Without hesitation she stood up and left the table where we had spent the last hour. I had a sober realisation and instantly knew I would never see her again. A scent of her perfume was still lingering when I reached over to take the last sip of wine she had left in her glass. During our conversation I felt I had triumphed and won, even though I never knew exactly what I was competing for. Then an unclear sense of defeat started growing inside of me. I hated her. For that exact feeling. For what she made me sense. Sometimes I could almost see her serene golden energy and it filled me with disgust. Those awful days when she woke up like a soldier and generously maneuvered her day while reaching out a hand to whomever needed it. The power she inhibited. The force she shared. The kindness she believed in. 

I wish I had never met her. I wish I had never been hit by her light. The one that would forever blind my sight like a harsh solar reflection. I stood up and crossed the street to seek cover in the shaded side of the city.

Photography: Matt Weber