Sunday, 22 February 2015

Mehndi - the art of the henna tattoo

Blood red oozes from the slim nib...


... curlicue after curlicue...


... form taking shape...


... a henna flower blossoms and grows...


... delicate...intricate...ornamental...


...an ancient wisdom and culture evolves before my eyes
...only to fade soon with time.

Frannie xx     


© 2015 Francesca Muir

Sunday, 15 February 2015

Let Greece Breathe...

...her music...


her dance...


her history...


her sport...


 her colour...


her beliefs...


her people...


...her passion.


Her name is Greece...


Let her breathe...

Frannie xx     


© 2015 Francesca Muir

Friday, 23 January 2015

Tamarama Beach

 Once a year for two weeks Tamarama Beach becomes a surreal playground...


Where we play among sculptures and once again discover our inner child.


Art, 
from the sublime...
 

To the deliciously ridiculous...


Sculpture by the Sea is place to play...


To rest...


To revive!

Frannie xx     


© 2015 Francesca Muir

Thursday, 8 January 2015

To the beach...

I'm heading this way...
  
  
With a small stop along the way...
 

For a cuppa in a red striped deck chair is de rigueur...
 

As is Milo's thirst quencher!
 

The beach beyond is inviting...


And they've thought of everything...


For me...


and Milo...


On my Sunday walk along the bay!


Have a happy day!

Frannie 
xx     



© 2015 Francesca Muir


 

Wednesday, 31 December 2014

Here's to you in 2015!



Wishing you health, laughter and good friends in 2015

Stay safe.

Love from Sydney.

Frannie xx




© 2014 Francesca Muir

Saturday, 20 December 2014

Gardenias and Local Heroes


It’s the scent that first hits me…

I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy trip to the city, but it’s one I wanted, needed to make.

But I couldn’t have anticipated the sweet air streets away

Gardenias. Roses. Hyacinths.  More gardenias. Lilies.  

Lavender. Stock, and more gardenias.

I took dahlias from my local shop miles away.

The woman at the counter knew they were for Martin Place.  

She lovingly wrapped them in wet paper and added a little water to the plastic bag.

She had almost sold out and it wasn’t yet 10 o’clock in the morning.
I walk through quiet Sydney streets.

Families alongside walk in the same direction.

We nod at each other. Silent. Sullen.

All carrying flowers. Lindt chocolates.

The children have toys, notes and signs of love.

It is the least we can do… pay our respects in this, the humblest way.
I wanted to write and tell Them that this was not in vain.

We will make this a safer place. For our children. For her children.

But I cannot see the page for tears and now the page is soaked. 

All I can write is love and sorry.  And love again.

And they too blend into a pool of inky wetness.

A child cries. He wants to eat the Lindt chocolate bear. 

His mother’s tribute.

She gives it to him knowing, They would understand.

He, fortunately, is too young to understand.

A stranger hands her a rose to place in the sea of colour and scent.

A girl with beautiful Irish eyes breaks away from her group.

She buys crisps and a bottle of water from the kiosk and hands it to the homeless man huddled behind a column.

His world in a bag next to him. 

He smiles at her and mouths “thank you”.
At the bottom of Martin Place a giant Christmas tree looms overhead

Gaudy decorations glint in the sunlight…

People everywhere. 

Brought together through shock, tears and a deep sadness…

Things for us in this city will never be quite the same again.

And through it all strains of Mark Knopfler's Going Home gently fills the silent void. 

A lone musician’s tribute to the Local Heroes of the Martin Place Lindt café.
I think how blessed I am to be doing just that...

Going home.

Going home to hug my baby a little tighter.

In the cold hard light of day it doesn’t matter that the breakfast things were left in the sink...  

Or the bedroom is untidy... 

Or that she’s going to be late for work...

I am going home.

Deeply touched by the scent of gardenias and Local Heroes.

My love to you and your family.

May you keep them safe always.

Frannie xx
Saturday, December 20, 2014








Friday, 12 December 2014

Looking out



It’s instinct!
 That which draws us to peer into the beyond…
 To peek around the corner…
To see who or what lies out there…
 To look through…
 To look in…
 To look out…
 To wonder about the other side of here.
 That overwhelming desire to step through…
 To stand in the light…
And live outside the frame.



Frannie xx     
© 2014 Francesca Muir


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