“A poet is a nightingale who sits in darkness and sings to cheer it own solitude with sweet sounds.”

Percy Bysshe Shelley

Winter depression always takes a hold on me. And it has settled in once again. I’ve gotten better at finding ways to sing to my melancholy over the years and have been trying to focus my brain on the promise of spring and creating art and beauty when it seems hard to easily find. But in truth, the dark solitude is still there.

Here is a photographic manifestation of me trying to find the light during the forever long, dark winter month of January.

Share this post