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Taroona House, Hobart, Tasmania,  Australia,

Taroona House is built on the land of the muwinina people.

Architecture: Archier Prefabrication: Candour Interiors: Hearth Studio and Client: Rachel Honnery Construction: Structured Parametrics and ESD from Red Sustainability Landscape: Landart Photographer: Thurston Empson

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Architecturewave

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Whole life is a search for beauty. But, when the beauty is found inside, the search ends and a beautiful journey begins.

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Rose Spirea 🪻6.5.25

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Healing Rhythms

Today I went to my storage unit to finally clear it out.

We had planned to keep it for a few weeks after the move. That turned into a few months. And now, it was time.

I didn’t expect to find anything that would stir me. Just boxes and dust and logistics. But tucked inside, like a treasure chest I forgot I owned, were books. My books. Books I didn’t even remember I had saved.

Flannery O’Connor’s complete stories—the ones that make my blood boil but keep pulling me back in.

Pinocchio, the old Carlo Collodi one.

Selected poems from Robert Frost.

Charlotte’s Web. Greek Myths.

A pocket guide to the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Just a few of the ones I brought home with me. They’re stacked on my night table now, musty and full of memory. I’m sitting here beside them, and I feel… happy.

Like someone who just remembered who she is.

Have you ever had that moment? Where you see your own shape again—not the polished version, not the one who knows how to “show up well,” but the real you?

I’m the girl who chooses popcorn over cookies. Pie over cake.

I’ve watched every episode of Miss Marple.

I argue with Flannery O’Connor in my head like it’s a full-time job, but I can’t quit her. Her fire, her grit, her strange faith—I wonder about it often.

I’ve carried heavy things.

Really painful things.

But I’m starting to notice something that I didn’t before.

Healing doesn’t always arrive in a grand moment.

Sometimes, it’s a rhythm.

A steady, unflashy beat in the background—jazz notes and gentle grace and the soft hush of pages turning in bed.

These are the rhythms that make me… me.

The ones that are still being written.

And I suppose, like Frost,

I shall be telling this with a sigh,

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

and that has made all the difference.

That road has defined who I am.

It has brought me to the foot of the Cross.

It has helped me cling to hope.

It has shown me myself—

and how to love me, too.

Source: Healing Rhythms

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Lupines, Ronald WA

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𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑛 . . <3

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Patagonia <3

Puerto Aysén, Aysén, Patagonia Chilena.

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Flamingos

Salar de Pedernales, Atacama, Chile.

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In love with pretty stained glass designs🪻༉‧₊˚. ‧࿔

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I'm still alive

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sky wash

instagram - twitter - website

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by Vladimir Ryabkov

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by Vladimir Ryabkov