He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear.



Wings of the Morning (detail), Edward Robert Hughes

Take what I have
Take these broken remains

For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.

— ~ Cynthia Occelli


I like him so much I feel physically sick


☪ bleached-roses ☪

Well, the picture sadly doesn’t do it justice, but at least I finally got the color balance right! I just wish I could get all that to work and have the gold paint actually shimmer  haha
My latest traditional paintingmedium: acrylic paint, purple ink