Pagan dreams
My farewell to Not A Cornfield. Over the past few months, I watched a cornfield grow in downtown LA. I remember when the corn crops towered over my head, and I walked in a sea of green. Then it turned to pure gold, and I watched it being harvested and hung on the fence. Row upon row of colorful corn against the Metro Goldline train tracks.
Then I returned to find a mystic ring of enormous curios in the middle of the now-empty field, with the corn husks peeking out at me from the top. I stood in the middle of the ring and whispered a silent prayer to the Corn Goddess. I ran my fingers over the rough textures of each curio, one by one, and tested its strength in my hands. I felt the warm sun on my back, and a light breeze in my hair. My absolution was complete.
Created with fd's Flickr Toys.








