Our Theory Ends...

It is 10:11

A young boy sits on the water bank in South America and ponders the lines in his hands, as if they were older than his thoughts, and could tell him how to be a man. He wanders in his mind and looks across the pond to find a scarlet bird hovering above the water. An Epiphany arises in young child’s mind, his eyes become valiant and his heart is full. He knows now what he is set out to do.

It is 10:11

A woman sits alone on a park bench in New York, with her clothes her only comfort amidst the surrounding cold. She watches the people skating on the ice as their breaths animate in compliance to the cold, posing as signals of winter and the need for a companion’s warmth. She thinks to call a man a dog might better serve as a compliment. She would trade all her time in the kitchen for one good conversation with a decent gentleman. She feels something warm come over her, looks over her shoulder and all her questions become keys to this moment.


It is 10:11

A elderly Japanese gardener works on the last of his beds, as he hears the slow foots steps on the cobblestone. He looks up and there is his love he has been missing for decades. A moment of silence equals the absence of their hearts’ beat. Tears flow at the burst of embrace, and forgiveness is found.

It is 10:11

A missing novelist looks from the Chilean mountain range into arctic shore. He observes the distantant waves and how their crash is lost into a whisper by the their echo reaches him with only a cold breeze that brisks the inside of his sleeve. He thinks of how it is like the memory of her manifested into this last tangible experience. He finishes a note, and sends it away in a handmade hotair baloon. It sets off into the Horizon as his last fleeting hope with the wind as it's only companion and time not granting him grace.

It is 10:11

A man alone from his past, travels the Turkish mountains with only a walking stick, and his thoughts as company. He stops on a peak midway up, overlooking the seemingly unfound beauty of the world that he sees now. He takes in the color and the calmness of nature. He feels doubt in all that humankind has taught him, and trusts more in what may not be in this world. As his heart beats one last time, he thinks of his daughter, and how they danced, how she told him stories that made him feel like king in her eyes, and a boy in her heart; he thought of her eyes on him, trusting the world he would give....then he felt his soul lift off his bones and into the open sky on into the great unknown.....

These are the thing that happened in the moment it all ended. All that we could do could not ever be done again. It is now before that time, that we can do all things that are given to us to do freely, until that time.....

Our Theory Remains...

It's 12:01

The clock wanes to it's end. A child hold his first tear at his mother's bedside. He looks at the deep shadows that lace the room in mystery. He understands so much now, but his curiosity grows into something that is larger than his imagination can feel. He turns from the shadows to see his mothers sullen but solemn face vigil in the moon's scattered light that rests upon her like a feather from a seraphim's wing. He let's a smile escape him. It's in this confidence he has learned to become a man, and knows how to trust, and to care. He says good bye and leaves her with a kiss.

It's 12:03

A young woman finds a bottle on the shores of pacific isle. Inside a trinket that resembles the gifts her early holiday memories. A gift from her grandfather. A promise that was eventually broken; and now this new but familiar trinket trapped in this bottle catches a dawning light on it's golden rim allegorical to a new beginning. A new spark of life resides in her chest again for the first time and she looks into the ocean and finds love again.

It's 12:05

A man stands in the swells of darkness as the lights go dim on stage as his voice echoes the last of what he had given to the crowded audience. His face wrenched in tears from the sadness on display, his chest full of chemical rush from the pounding of life inside. Silence is foreboding, and he hears only the vibrations of his pulse. Then it is broken as a whisper is littered into the still air followed by an exalting cheer of the unseen crowd the curtain falls as his spirit rises and he the boy inside is released making this moment the marriage of performance and purpose.


It's 12:06

An elderly couple sit over tea in the bungalow over looking the Mediterreanean shoreline. Across the cold plane of the table reaches one hand carefully with the knowledge and wisdom of decades of endearment of the other as if orchestrating a perfect signal of truce. The other, nervous as if it were the first night they met, puts her hands in his. The youthful smile releases a tear and the other hand follows. Her eyes erase the discontent that had been measured between them. Trust is here again in the last days of their life, and love here doesn't know any end.

It's 12:07

A fisherman writes in his tattered journal another listless verse trying to find the right words to say to his long lost son as aimlessly as he would if he were searching for a siren in the fogs of the sea. In that moment he raises his pen and looks from behind the fur rims of his coat and sees in the distant aquatic edges of the earth, a sign that spells it all out for him. His heart for the first time in decades finds warmth and sends a rush to his hands that move in a confident prose. Though words a grave, to him it is love they will save.

It's 12:09

A little girl in the city park outside the busy German streets, admires the bouncing colors of the sun refracted off the bubbles floating from an unknown place. She looks through them as if to provide a different reality. In them she finds herself, a world of where she knows no limits, only where she is free to imagine a smile for every creature as a friend, and every motion is a dance. She looks behind her at the orphanage, the adults in their own world, making decisions she did not understand and doubted the decisions understood her. She looked back to find the bubbles again but only an empty space where the sun beamed through the canopy of trees almost as if presenting a doorway. An option for her to go where no one had gone before. She stood from her place, and went on to find more than this world could give her.

It's 12:10

A man traveling by balloon writes endlessly in the colds of the high wind. Words with no credit but an endless amount of value go onto thin pages that fall like feathered ice from a corpulent cloud down to the complacent populous below. He finds discovery in his long silence. How long he will go even he does not know. It's love that has driven him this far, and death that sets the pace. With the world at his feet, he closes his eyes and it's her that he sees. Unfiltered and untainted with the offerings of what is tangible, he orchestrates all he knows in hopes that it is with him that she one day goes.


These are the things that made us. These are the events that go on like a very well known secret. And it all goes on making the smallest the greatest, and in time we will know when it all begins again...

Behind the Scenes of Photo Shoot with Daniel Pierce & the Baker Twins

Our Theory Still Remains

Hand in hand head on chest each breath was in sync with the family of fireflies that accompanied their solace in a summer field as they lie and watch night sky silently dance in carrousel fashion. An embrace that felt like a promise, like life itself, seemed it was there all along, before they were born. A whisper and a connection when their eyes break the silence into a tear, made it all feel like it they were starting again from the very first of moment of time.

An elderly lady looks at her hands and relishes all the love they had given; and thinks of how much more they could have shared. The creases remind her of the smile in her grandchildren as they smiled each time they look at her in a glow. The tips felt like the end of time, and an allegory to her walk in this life. The space beyond them: the edge of eternity where she will finally dance that childhood dream.

There were two men on the cliff top overlooking a valley lush in aged green and dressed golden in the dawning light. They took a breath and felt the moment's increasing resolve. Their legs were giving out from the night's climb, but they felt they could fly. With a slight laugh of accomplishment and a glance, two friends with bond of brotherhood that is spelled out in their mutual memories.

A woman sits in a bedroom darkened in darkened by the night looking in the mirror.  Though, listless and alone, she is confident in her solace, but sometimes the cold side of the bed could be a bit warmer. Patient for company she turns away and flips through her photo albums of a childhood she would not change, the wall time she climbs she hopes is worth the wait.

A man comes in from another day of sliding doors and waiting lines. Endless deadlines construct his schedule to a box, promising numbers to give him the comforts he seeks, though he comes into the kitchen to find his wife wiping away a tear pulling the curtain of smile to hide the prick of her pain that swells within her home.

A young girl studies the light though bubbles as they gleam colors of the rainbow like her imagination was manifest into the summer breeze. She saw the dragonfly dance in between them like a knight on a mission. I gave her a wind off his wings as if a memento to remember him by. She then desired to be able to enter such a world, doubting that this world could hold such a hero so charming.

A discover of all that is, stands over a cavern of something ancient. Dark and wondrous, he feels his childhood questions disintegrate into answers as they give way to new questions. He feels curiosity pressing his hands to discover the work of his ancestors that he may possibly keep their stories on a page, and learn of the greater things beyond this world.

An old man aged in wisdom and artifact of physical trial, stares at his artworks held on the stone walls of his palace. He holds a hand against one in particular he had created in the wake of a dream he once had as his wife had laid ill by his side. He painted it all with one hand as they other held her's. It told a story he could not bare repeat, but only carry on til the day he meets her again on that distant plane. He observes the strokes and color til a tear escapes down his solemn face. Satisfied with all the time spent in these hallways, he lights a flame and lays it to the ground. As it climbs the walls that have long been his comfort, he walks out shedding the weight of life into a dance he has long waited for.

Season's Fall

He sat bedside to his mother, staring at the palms of his hands; studying the intricate lines as if they would return the answers beyond his 6 years of age. As his thoughts drew to a halt like an anchor drawn aboard, he lifted his heavy head to see the frail body before him. She lay ill and lit to a pale glow set off by the moonlight that poured through the large window. She breathed in slow and heavy, causing her chest to sink so each time it seemed that gravity itself was causing her body to collapse. Her chin slowly fell to her shoulder as her weighted eyelids lifted slightly that the pale-blue in them, that was once so brilliant and now dimming to grey, beamed into Ellom’s eyes.

Her finger moved slightly with infinitesimal strength, his heart leapt and caused his hand to touch hers as if to calm the movement to save her energy so he could keep her as long as possible. Her body swelled as she drew in a long breath, and the vibrations in her throat were prelude to the symphony of her voice. “Ellom." Ellom looked at her with wide with joy of her words, but full of fright that they would be her last. "You will be the man I always wanted to see in this world...." she drew in another breath, this time with a slight grimace that flashed across her face that she quickly threw off like a bird to a storm, so she could have this breath to speak to her son. "…because you are the son I always wanted."

With that a smile thinly curled across her sunken face like a cloud against the sky, and a tear slipped from her glistening blue eyes dispersing into the pillow. Ellom’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear its tumultuous beat in the dead silence that blanketed the moment. His mother's eyes began to close, their glisten now blotted out like the sun into the horizon, and her smile drew into their lips supple slumber.

Ellom's grip on her hand grew tight in his reflex to awaken his mom. She could not be gone. The unstoppable nightmare could not be now. His lips bore a tremble, as new tears began to heat his eyes and gradually rain the carpet he use to play on just years ago when he was small enough for her to pick him up and hold him and tell him how much she would always love him.

But 'always' came to end, and Ellom was alone. Sobbing, he buried his face into his mother's hand, for maybe it would rise to wipe his tears away. But when no movement answered his disparaged cry, he looked up onto her sunken face. A jolt of care, and promise that he'd always had for her grew out from within like new flame, and he felt the soul of valor and responsibility of a man take him over. Thoughts of how he would be that man right now, if her eyes would just open. He would take care of her and make her a happy woman. So he took in her beauty, and gave hope one more chance.

But her eyes did not open, and he was stricken with a sadness that broke him down into the crest of her neck crying so hard he hoped she could hear him from wherever her soul may be. The smell of her lotion still alive and still ten thousand graces to his senses, drew memories of all their embraces. All the times she made his days golden. Her touch on his cheek, the constant smile she wore when he was in the room, now darkened as the shadows that swallowed his fetal form.

Then he remembered he could not stay. He would make the phone call, and they would be here in the morning. He raised his head and looked at the old grandfather clock once more. It seemed to stand taller than ever. Brooding and foreboding as if it were Death itself. Time was ever against him; but he had to do what was necessary.

He wrote his mom a good-bye note coupled with the daisy he'd picked for her that day, and laid it on her shoulder. He set her hands folded in a calming form atop her chest as if to say she was ready and prepared to go where she has gone. He stood in a moment that seemed to slow with his heart's wane, just so he could have the last image of the greatest love he’d known with him indefinitely. He bowed down to grace her cheek one last time with a kiss. His lips lighted to her like a butterfly to a flower, and remained there for the longest they ever had. Still pressed he drew in a breath, and lifted himself from her; opening his eyes from the moment's last embrace and never letting her leave his sight. He took one step back then, as if taking a great leap from a cliff’s edge, turned from her and continued down the darkness of the hallway picking up his one satchel and walked out the door leaving the only place he had ever known into a world he did not.

Raising Castles

She slips into the evening with slight regard to the cooling air rolling off the sun's last sigh. The painted sky goes black hosting the family of stars that part whispering lights that seem to speak legends to her in silence. She's alone, but in good company. Curled on the sand with nothing but a wall of ancient stone behind her guarding her past, she looks head on into the blanket of darkened sea. Lost in thought as the folds of black waves crest into the moonlit white crashing to land as if a gentle giant pleading for her affection. But she was only drowned in her daydreams of the night. She rests her head to her knee and studies the prints in the sand. Forming stories from the indentions of relationships come and gone. Were they foretelling of her own imprint to give? Would she draw lines in the sand for the celestial bodies to conjure into lore? Would she go to the north or the south on this shore? Or will it be into the ocean to see what lies beyond all this, if there is something untold she could adore? The mystery weighted like a shadow pressing the light. She bit her lip in anticipation, as the thought grew to a move. She knew to find out where she would go, she had to take a foot forward, and discover what she had never known.

Elysian Fields - (Excerpt)

He felt the wet sensation of cold hit his lips as it's gentle smear spread through their crevice, and the sweet flavor of something unknown breached to the tip of his tongue. Raising from unconsciousness clouded his rationale, and so his first thoughts were that his daughter was playing with him, with possibly something she had concocted from the kitchen. She was always able to reach everything beyond her limitations of 3 feet high. The thought grew to a dead end, as he opened his eyes and saw before him and endless world of white and sculpted blue. Cold. Flakes of snow gradually fell illustrating silence upon stillness.


He pressed himself from the frozen ground which he realized was but an aged wooden platform; the only iceless surface from what he could see. He took hesitation as he grew curious of what could be awaiting his arrival here. Though the cold wasteland he saw before him was not inviting, nor was notably comfortable, still felt more like company than the drafty shod of a house in which he had spent his last days. At least this was something that seemed to stand out from the rest of the world he had always known. It almost felt as if it were manifested for him. Now as the air began to shift into a wind, his bare arms felt the sting of the land's wintery hand. He trudged on only guided in hope that destiny would answer.


Just ahead was a forest naked of spring, but full of winding limbs and branches spiraling into each other sheltering the ground below from the ambient glow of the grey-clouded sky. On it's edge was the hint of a forking path. Options he did not have time for, to wager his weight of wisdom that would be nothing more than a guessing game at this point.


He turned to look behind, and nothing but the lone wooden platform that might as well have been drift wood that brought him from a misty sea to a frozen hand of dismal deed lied in his sight. Beyond it nothing but white. He turned back and for the first time the forest seemed to offer a proposition. So he walked to it's edge and without hesitation knowing his time was short let whatever foot that led to the forests' edge first be the fork of the path he took.


Aimless, knowing no such thing of North, South, East, or West here. He picked up his pace down the left fork feeling this path now had to be right. Not knowing why the other path would even be wrong but it was for the first time, he felt a nod of fate's concurrence reside warmly in his conscience as an ember growing into flame.


Darkening, the deeper he stabbed onward into the belly of this lifeless forest. Swiftly on the tracks of this winding trail he ran, making sure not to trip on the large knotty roots that suffocated the path from both sides. Not knowing what lied ahead he could only for at the very least hope for the sound of someone's presence. Just then was a crack was heard in the distance, which jolted him to a halt. As he stood still, he felt the sensation of perspiration elate his skin with a chill but was quickly defeated by the heat of his body that had been churned from his hasting pace. Through his deep breaths he listened intently as a hare in full alert, attempting to decipher if the sound was him, something foreign, or just in his mind all together. Taking one deep inhale to quite his body, he hoped for another sound.


Nothing.


He propelled back into his previous stride and the first sense of loss fell darkly in his mind. He began to ask why he was here. What has this world to do with anything about him. The previous two were strange enough, but at least they had presented misfit children to tell him of his misfortunate past. The other but an aimless oaf that talked in nothing but riddles that all seemed to hint at only his current state.


He began to think of, his daughter. How he missed her eyes. Blue and full of life, now gone existing only in etching memories scribed from all his mind could tell him; and his wife. She was the other half of the world he had grown up in and never known until they met. She loved the stars as much as he. Though he was a scholar of the night skies, it remained absolute that when seeing her she showed him constellations no book or professor could ever tell. If only they were here now, he would feel the warmth and guidance they both offered. Most of all he just wanted to be able to give himself to them again. If they were only alive to feel his solitude, together they could reinvent this world into the paradise it had never known.