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I know this cold, as it knows me That clarion silence of winter, where all things must come to end

// Part 23

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A passing ode to those stalwart pines, those gentle keepers of winter, caretakers to a land in silent sleeping

// Part 11

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The gentle light hangs in the ephemeral stillness And slips through the fingers in it’s kind and silken embrace

// Part 24

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Yves Bonnefoy, tr. Marc Elihu Hofstadter, from “Dream has Laid its Painted Silks,” wr. c.1955

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Inktober 2019 week 2. Acrylic ink golden paint and gold leave on Arches paper. 17.5 cm x 22.5 cm.

Our speech and action is the outer journey, Our inner journey is above the sky. The body travels on its dusty way; The spirit walks … on the sea.

- Rumi “The Mystic Way”

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When SZA said “lonely enough to let you treat me like this”

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So much damn truth.

“I need the patience of an angel,”

— Marcel Proust, from The Complete Works; “Remembrance of Things Past,”

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Loch an Eilein, Rothiemurchus Forest, Highlands, Scotland.

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“You were wild and sweet between pleasure and sleep, between fire and water.”

— Pablo Neruda, tr. by Paul Weinfield, from “Night on the Island,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

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I’m an unrepentant bitch, and I’ll find peace despite it all.

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Up

Rýchory virgin forest, Giant Mountains, Czech Republic

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Pearl, a rare albino raven.

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And her lips felt like a candle wax, making her little world cunningly of elements and angelic sparks carrying the transcendent memory, of something that will keep them apart.