Painted Plumes

Once I believed I was an exotic bird, drawing you to me with my brightly coloured feathers. I had been spreading gold glitter here and there around the island, and was often found flying topless along the streets, perfectly painted (in my own style) from the waist up, encouraging others to let me adorn them too. I possessed a sense of freedom seldom seen, felt or expressed elsewhere. I was an exotic inspiration encouraging you to take off and fly.

Connections were easy to make, I totalled some eight hundred interesting connections on the book of faces. Beautiful people, curious people; some lost, some unsure and some who continued to come back to the island time and time again wanting more. It was not known then that some of the gold glitter I generously sprinkled contained love, trust and friendship, so as the years rolled on and the eight hundred diminished to just a few, I vowed to return and join those that I had met, sprinkling more glitter as we danced until the dusk turned dawn.

Painted PlumesThe combination of bright paint, gold glitter, nakedness and honesty opened them up. The shimmering truth was simple and visible to all – I am like you and you are like me  

The combination of colour, nakedness and honesty heads straight for your soul, it questions what you truly desire and ignites the the passion deep within you. What could be better than the beautiful transparent truth that you were born to be you as I was born to be me and that together we will live symbiotically.

Some fought it, some poo-poo’d, some ridiculed and reduced me to tears but all, and I mean all of them, let go of the old inhibitions.

Sprinklings of gold glitter cascade to the ground when we meet, the breeze carries a beat, you involuntarily move your feet. My words metallic mirrored shards of hope, candid confetti confessions, a fearless fizzing firework which explodes when you let go and begin to travel down new roads.

The painted plumes have started to unfurl. Naked from the waist up, not a care in the world for soon I will be back there soaring high,  whirling around the white isle skies.

*My Beautiful feature image is of collected fallen feathers hand-painted by Dianne Faw *



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