“If You Forget Me”
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Pablo Neruda
Karin Thorsen Sept. 17, 1936 – Nov. 8, 2008
It is hard to imagine that it is ten years since she passed. I wanted to write a letter to my mother on her birthday. The letter became a portrait, inspired from a photo my father took during their honeymoon. I chose to surround Mamma with her favorites: daisies, lily of the valley and chantarelles.
