The summer is almost over if we believe the calendar. Yet the weather gods are still busy smouldering us…or is that relenting heat just my organism raging war with my telomeres and hormones

The inevitable for us humans, the signs of the time. We fight many battles since we are born in order to have a place in this world. To fit in with our family, friends, future and ultimately in our heads. Skills, talents, and formulas we make our own by repeat and error. For decades we are up and running to master a worthy spot, embodied in a house and other material goodies, respect from the ones surrounding us and the overall feeling we have complied with the expected.

Then there is the moment it dawns on us that we haven’t fulfilled our natural wish, the one we always have pushed to the back of our minds. Pursuing what we think will make us whole and happy. Once achieved or within our reach suddenly loses all glitter and glam promised by the termagant of traumas in our heads.

Having freed oneself of the termagant in question, induced by a glitch in our organism generally, we start to take distance and observe with more love and less passion ourselves. That is the moment of utter freedom and realisation. All harm suffered in our younger years which we haven’t been able to turn into strength has been buried and laid to rest like the queen of Great Britain and beyond.

Her majesty barely entombed and her active power expired, the rebels have made noise as yet the follow-up has to gain respect, sway and awe. So are we to find a rhythm without the blues and in that process not succumb to retractors of our newfound autonomy. Authority is based upon the value of the mission and the rate of success which will inspire. Leaving the legitimacy out of all those who rule, we have to acknowledge the charisma of the late queen. An icon to say the least.

Portraits have been made of her late majesty maybe not as many nowadays people portray themselves with instant (gram) glamour, satisfaction or rather tic tocking in the hope to receive admiration and infamous popularity. Truth be said the lady wasn’t mother’s finest but did inspire. Many suffered royalities which made them stutter or shake their knees. That is the reaction to the sheer magic, woven and fabricated over the decades like a veil which is there like another added dimension to our solar system.

People are perceived through eyes and other senses. Yet impossible to see oneself how others do, although we present a certain image. Some are iconic others a syntax error and most merely mass or filling (remember the importance of filling). How icons are born is a mysterious happening which I believe to be an equation of old god’s dust passed through the formerly mentioned veil into a soul landing in extraordinary circumstances. Those can be translated into diverse lingo.

Said lingo once defined turns divine and voila the icon has been born. The quintessential does not only regard the widely known and recognised and I can give faith to that fact. Throughout my life, I have encountered quite a few magical human beings. The instant of a shared smile within the momentum of our passing by feels like recognition. Someone like you, being a part of you with the only evidence being the smile, the shared gaze or the timbre of the voice.

Many magical moments I have engraved in my memory and can savour them. Others I have physical evidence in pictures or on canvas. This last summer two encounters, fortuitous I might add, resulted in two paintings. I will share the one that the Polish artist Miro Bialy painted. After all, magic can be materialised, being iconic or stating a syntax error.

Live life like love magic made…

Featuring Fenix,

Irena Phaedra