the evening party

2011-07-28T22:39:00.000-04:00

THE EVENING PARTY HAS MOVED

http://eveningparty.tumblr.com

sorry for any inconvenience. hope to see you there!

Sara

2011-04-12T17:51:00.015-04:00

Advance oh Night, and place cool hands over our burning ears, so that the day's blaze becomes but a murmur, a gentle glow around the edges that will flicker sleepily, and eventually expire.

2011-03-24T08:35:00.005-04:00

I wish that, should you force open my ribcage with confident hands, the walls of my heart chamber would blush with as many brilliant strokes.

2011-01-05T20:53:00.007-05:00

Back there, in November, I witnessed a short-circuit at the mouth of the tunnel. Flames crackled in a raging surge towards the heavens before turning into dust. The tide slipped the sand a final mercurial kiss before succumbing to the whiteout. Even the eye of God let his amber iris blaze before the advancing haze of sleep.

2010-12-28T09:21:00.003-05:00

OUR FLESH | OUR SKIES | OUR DREAMS | ARE RAW

2010-11-28T10:15:00.007-05:00

I find it hard to believe that mere chance brings you to me. Surely when my shaded face looks up to you it is being called. You may not know my name but my affliction touches you, and in turn your remedy pierces me. Do not erase these words, written, painted, kissed.

2010-11-19T22:04:00.007-05:00

I fought the dream, but the dream won. Quiet and passive as I tried to be, these colours kept screaming within me. Look closely, my irises swirl and pulse continuously, a storm is ripping through.

2010-10-22T10:48:00.003-04:00

I want to be consumed by these landscapes.
Have their glitter fill my eyes, mouth, and lungs; to have blood that sparkles.

2010-10-20T09:55:00.004-04:00

Oh summer skin, warm and supple, full of freshness, I miss you already. I remember I spent this day reading Proust in my yard, and at evening I lay on the couch to observe my favourite tree atop the hill. She danced with the breeze, in the full bloom of the setting sun, and my legs tingled at the sight.

2010-10-16T21:11:00.007-04:00

People I know have mentioned a lack of romanticism this summer. Maybe I'm content with too little but I had a marvelous time. I felt so in tune with all the colours, scents, and textures. It was as though the season finally found me ripe enough for embracing, and decided to enhance all my senses. I think she did her best caressing at the island. There I lay my head to rest on her lavish lap and was completely consumed. Oh heaven really is closer than you think, you just have to let it find you! One day I'll have a little cottage too, and paradise will be with me always.

2010-10-16T13:55:00.003-04:00

That day the snow bent every tree
You banished me with iron chain
I heard your venomous decree
"Return when Helios reigns again".

Today his light warms every bone
Even death it could beguile
Keep your promise, lips of stone,
Let me see you smile.

2010-09-26T14:39:00.006-04:00

On a hot August day we wandered into the building for shade and silence. We received it. In the dark passage only the water-fountain made a sound as it moistened our burning lips. We closed our eyes to savour the coolness in our throats, and then, bursting through, music. An organ.

Not so fast. It sang. Shade and silence. At the height of summer. Why? Come here, yes, faster, your feet hurt, I know, from searching, but I have it, come see. Put your hands on the walls, follow the vibrations, it's just a little further. Stop! Now turn the corner, slowly. There.

I can feel you trembling. Good.

Observe how inviting it is, like the innermost chamber of a beehive. It smells of warmed wood & varnish. Clean, smooth, upright. The altar is like your favourite bonbon, wrapped in that gold foil that makes your fingertips tingle as you smooth it out. Go ahead, roll the sweetness around in your mouth until you've finished caressing it. Give yourself an instant to exist purely for its flavour. Then, open your ribcages, allow yourselves to sigh, let the kind reflected light enter you. Become colourful and clear like the window panes. This angelic complexion suits you. Will you stay?

2010-08-11T07:01:00.004-04:00

A cat in the garden, a garden in my cup. Fur & algae textures, quite unusual.

2010-08-04T19:11:00.003-04:00

I saw an angel close by me, on my left side, in bodily form. This I am not accustomed to see, unless very rarely. Though I have visions of angels frequently, yet I see them only by an intellectual vision, such as I have spoken of before. It was our Lord's will that in this vision I should see the angel in this wise. He was not large, but small of stature, and most beautiful — his face burning, as if he were one of the highest angels, who seem to be all of fire: they must be those whom we call cherubim. Their names they never tell me; but I see very well that there is in heaven so great a difference between one angel and another, and between these and the others, that I cannot explain it.

I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron's point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual; though the body has its share in it, even a large one. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God, that I pray God of His goodness to make him experience it who may think that I am lying.

St. Theresa of Avila

2010-07-23T20:41:00.008-04:00

Here lives a sorceress. After a fierce storm on the day of her arrival, she ventured forth at midnight to scatter gems onto the barren ground. Out of her pocket came two tiny silver bells to whose sound she danced over the stones. Neighbourhood cats gathered attentively around the yard, their eyes reflecting her pale moonlit robes. When she returned inside, a girl wiped her muddied feet with a warm cloth dipped in lavender water. Scissors glistened in the candlelight, cutting clean the tresses that the sorceress had grown the previous year. These were knotted into a platinum braid, and placed inside the cloth. The small bundle was set alight outside the door, perfuming the street. Side by side in the dark, the two women whispered a prayer before retreating to bed. The shorn hair was as soft as newborn plumage on the girl’s belly and breasts. Strolling by, I noticed the sun paying special homage to this plot of land. Nowhere else did the plants glisten and embrace so ardently; the air blushing with magic.

2010-07-22T06:33:00.004-04:00

It was like stepping into a glass paperweight, held against the sun by a curious hand.

2010-07-16T22:15:00.004-04:00

How we burn and glow in summer, going out at evening with sulfuric sighs.

2010-07-13T19:47:00.003-04:00

♥ new moleskine. this is the first collage.
♥ how gorgeous that oceanic hue.
♥ i wanted to be a bird and brush my plumage against theirs.
♥ at 4AM the fog lifts and it is golden.
♥ savour here toronto's most indulgent ice cream.

2010-07-11T21:14:00.005-04:00

Pagan priestesses riding the back of a church, a broken breath kept tightly in a bottle. For a while now I've been rather keen on witchy communions, and spectral apparitions.

2010-06-27T09:34:00.003-04:00

I like to think of this as the moment when H. received divine inspiration from magnetic fields in the sky. Or something. She's working on a literary project that is also a means of self-therapy and I want more than anything for her reach that beautiful place where she deserves to be.

2010-06-26T14:30:00.000-04:00

SATANIC BEASTS! They looked so innocent until I developed the film! Ha!

2010-06-24T21:06:00.003-04:00

I have not been taking many pictures because I am so over stimulated by the outdoors that I cannot manage to operate a camera. Rainbow lights dance waltzes before my eyes, the wind's rough hands cavort in my hair, summer skin seduces my nose and tongue with its rosy blooming. The one place where I still enjoy total quiet is my bedroom, and so I leave you with some images of that little ark. There is also a photo/literary project that will be available as soon as I find a proper print shop! Kinkos exchanged their gorgeous printers for absolute junk!

2010-05-29T12:22:00.006-04:00

H. and I are treasure hunters with a habit of wandering through the city sighing. A few weeks ago we arrived late at a church garage sale, only to discover that the splendor of its parks was what we really needed. Have you ever seen blossoms of such a burning pink? We were enchanted and continued to weave in and out of the surrounding streets, ending up at a small wooded park where light pierced the trees and made them glow from the inside out.

(please click to see them large and lustrous)

2010-05-20T17:24:00.003-04:00

The electric shocks have started, I can't walk outside without quivering. Everything murmurs breathlessly in my ear.

2010-05-16T09:47:00.013-04:00

...for in our gazing lies our truest acquiring. Would to God our hands were as our eyes are: so ready in grasping, so wide in holding, so carefree in letting all things go; then we would become truly rich. But we do not become rich by having something dwell in our hands and wither there: everything is meant to stream through their grip as through the festive gate of entrance and homecoming. Our hands are not meant to be coffins; rather beds in which the things engage in twilight slumber and accomplish many a dream, out of whose darkness their fondest secrecies speak. But the things are meant to wander on beyond our hands, sturdy and strong, and we are meant to retain nothing of them but the courageous morning song that floats and shimmers behind fading steps. For possession is poverty and worry; having had possessed is the only unconcerned possessing.

- Rainer Maria Rilke "Diaries of a Young Poet"

2010-05-09T17:29:00.007-04:00

A visit to High Park

♥ Pearl petaled dreams in full bloom
♥ A fallen giant with electricity still running through it
♥ Mansions hiding in jade foliage
♥ Cool breezes rushing down secret paths to meet us
♥ Shadowy apparitions whispering of the eternal sleep

2010-05-03T19:15:00.003-04:00

Mail love from V*

♥ Photos of Tomas the wonder cat
♥ Embroidered velvet sleeve
♥ Marie Antoinette box
♥ Rose notecard
♥ Ruby heart pendant

Thank you endlessly, my response is on its way replete with blossoms!

2010-05-02T13:52:00.004-04:00

Fountain in Bern Switzerland, 1983.

Sometimes I will spend a whole Sunday at the Reference library leafing through art books that are either too rare or too expensive for me to own. It was on such an occasion that amongst the pages of Meret Oppenheim's catalogue raisonné I found this miraculous entity. I can't get it out my head.

2010-04-30T18:30:00.005-04:00

Familiar changes in light are so reassuring. That building slowly sinking into shadow, or the laugh lines on that sky, the cross-lights glowing like the inner chambers of a beehive.

2010-04-29T21:17:00.012-04:00

A promise is a promise, so go on and enter the emerald city.

2010-04-25T09:12:00.003-04:00

At last, the sun keeps us warm.

2010-04-23T08:47:00.011-04:00

Eliot's Bookshop is a place that marked my adolescence. This is where I would run to every weekend to spend my allowance, and a little later some of my student loan. This is where I bought my best editions featuring Collette, Anais Nin, Henry Miller, and Duras. Today I have to hunt down used books at cheaper locations (the BMV in the Annex being the Mecca), but I've suddenly felt an urge to revisit the old headquarters. Possibly because no other shop possesses the charm of 3 storeys worth of wall to wall pine shelving, smelling like decades of ardent bibliophilia.

2010-04-16T08:41:00.008-04:00

From now on the ghosts of bare branches and concrete will vanish. All will be verdant silk.

2010-04-15T06:49:00.007-04:00

Of note...

♥ The first honey ripe pear of the new year.
♥ Tiny china plates thrifted for $1, each relating to beauties I cannot live without; my grandma and my spaniel.
♥ Record sale at the Reference Library. At 50 cents a pop I am in classical music heaven!
♥ A small book of Julia Margaret Cameron photographs. Dreamiest of dreamers.

2010-04-12T19:46:00.008-04:00

Life is a dream, the awakening kills us. - Virginia Woolf

2010-04-10T10:52:00.004-04:00

The General sketches his map
The Spider weaves her trap
Think of the silver, imagine the gold
Consider the gems that each will hold
Once the dirty deed is done
And blood dries in the sun.

2010-04-06T21:47:00.002-04:00

Haloed child on the verge
Of sounds that will emerge
Again in later years
To caress her weary ears
With the clarity and ease
Of a gentle summer breeze.

2010-04-05T07:53:00.004-04:00

Twisted cornice, twisted gate
Twisted step, and mental state
It’s a most delightful high
Keeping time with days gone by
Oh the ghosts we each arouse
In the halls of Gladstone House.

2010-04-04T14:52:00.013-04:00

Watch tower, dark and tall
From your lap the hours fall
May the Zephyr's tongue turn vile
So the hands upon your dial
Bend away from twilight woe
To the Rooster's blissful crow.

2010-03-20T11:15:00.008-04:00

Presently she slumbers still, but you can see how vividly she dreams. I too have been in a deep expectant sleep, turbulent and full of ache; I am not blessed with nature's patience.

(please click for full size & effect)

2010-03-08T22:37:00.010-05:00

I have come to care tenderly for the evening, for it is then that I resurface into the natural and the beautiful. How thrilling to be suddenly confronted by a luminous sapphire sky, or a heavily amorous snowstorm.

2010-03-07T17:35:00.010-05:00

♥ Book of Georgia paintings & photographs taken in the 60s at her Texan ranch. Highly inspiring to see how her iconic delicacy blends perfectly with her environment. If only we could all fit into something so well at the age of 80! Also pictured, a peacock feather sent to me by someone with an equally intriguing universe. Her eye is as blue & ancient as that of the plume.

♥ The light behind my curtains at 7 am is becoming more and more inviting as the glorious season approaches. Its spectrum widens every day.

♥ Two friends from long ago who slept in my arms for nearly a decade. They are so worn but I cannot part with them, they still smell of long lost dreams.

2010-03-05T12:58:00.007-05:00

On the morning of my birthday the sun & moon crowned me with Neptune’s Blaue Blume. Am I cursed or blessed in my search for perfect desire, the mystic infinite? All day I swam in search of an answer. But the small silver fish escaped my grasp, leaving behind cool palms tainted with mother of pearl.

2010-03-02T21:32:00.005-05:00

I turn 25 tomorrow. May my hair grow longer, may my skin stay soft, may the light shine brighter.

2010-02-23T18:25:00.005-05:00

I'm not sure why, but I've always thought of houses as living beings. And so I feel acutely their shy reservation during winter, just as in summer I sense their mysterious beckoning.

2010-02-14T13:27:00.007-05:00

Photographing early in the morning and late at night, something I never really did before, but that I want to do more and more. Look at all the magic these lonely hours hold: azure and ivory ecstasies bursting over slumbering houses; immaculate snow covering a gritty parking lot; the vertical prayers of roofs and pines to the dark; marks of passage frozen by moonlight; the waltzing phantoms of wind and trees. ♥

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2010-02-10T21:29:00.012-05:00

Sehr Geehrter Winter,
Your lines & textures are delicious. I can't stop collecting them. Indigo swirls, earth coloured coiling snakes, witches' fingers in the moonlight. I am yours. ♥

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2010-02-05T07:42:00.006-05:00

The mark is slight, but the affection deeply meant.

2010-02-04T07:23:00.004-05:00

When she sets that little fire behind all the houses, oh how thankful I am to know her. I only wish she knew, for then it might happen more often. I miss your louder voice, mother, there has been too much muffled whispering, and not enough singing.

2010-02-02T23:15:00.006-05:00

I am not a big drinker at all, but I simply can't resist some blush wine. The first time I had it was in a big square in Tours. When I finished those few glasses I felt like the sky in a Watteau painting; sparkling, silky, warm, immense! Vena is one of my favourite brands, though lately I've also been drinking a Rosé D'Anjou (by Rémy Pannier) that is just gorgeous!

2010-02-01T22:54:00.006-05:00

Darling Roger is our last addition to the canine love fest that is our home. He was found wandering with no collar, obese, arthritic, and with fur missing off his back as though someone has attempted to shave him. A pretty sad sight! But after months or proper dieting, regular exercise, and cuddling, he has become a healthy and terribly happy old chap. We adore him! Does he not remind you of cozy evenings by the fire in an English estate, after a day of proper winter mucking? Oh yes, if only I could given him (and all the others) just that!

2010-01-31T23:03:00.007-05:00

Breakfast at Ezra's Pound is definitely not something I can afford every week, but it was pretty delicious, and the service rather nice. I had a rich latte bowl, the crispiest most luscious croissant on this side of the Atlantic, and a lemon ginger scone that was moist and zesty through and through. Top that with some shy sunshine peeking out, Alex's big baby blues, and a cute little boy to get fuzzy about, and it was a damn fine morning.

2010-01-30T09:32:00.008-05:00

A desperate reminder that we really are in January, a silent yell blowing through the city, leaving as quickly as it arrived, leaving every early riser wide-eyed, and purified.

2010-01-29T22:51:00.005-05:00

We had a few mild days where the air was thick with sepia and lavender hues pulsing through small gaps in the sky.

2010-01-24T17:24:00.008-05:00

For the past two weeks I have been keeping myself busy with the following,

♥ taking things easy and being happy about it
♥ buying & listening to new records (see previous post)
♥ reading Rilke's "The Book of Images", very slowly because it is so beautiful
♥ working slavishly but joyously on my 2010 diary

2010-01-24T16:41:00.011-05:00

In Graphic as a Star Josephine Foster puts her bewitching vocals to the task of resurrecting Emily Dickenson. Twenty-Six of the poet's works are set to some of the most shiver inducing ballads I've ever heard. I listened to it for the first time on a stormy night by candlelight.

♥ download Exultation in the Going and I see Thee better in the Dark

Jorge Ben's Força Bruta is a Brazilian classic that I can't live without. From bright beats to heart fluttering string orchestrations, I just can't avoid dancing. I enjoy it early in the morning with a hot cup of coffee.

♥ download O Telefone Tocou Novamente and Pulo Pulo

2010-01-13T08:06:00.005-05:00

Freddy's winter haircut means that he needs extra warmth every morning. I wake up to his little nose poking under the covers, and we go back to sleep for a few more minutes. It's a ritual I would never forsake, having his tiny paws pressed against my eyelids until dawn removes them.

2010-01-10T15:02:00.009-05:00

I am all aglow on the inside too.

2010-01-09T11:03:00.008-05:00

I took this photograph in mid December in order to celebrate the bravest leaf on my vine, before her eventual fall. Today is one of the coldest days I've ever witnessed and she's still there, whispering against the windowpane, holding up her brittle frame with iron will.

2010-01-05T21:41:00.008-05:00

The Churchyard was veiled in a whirlwind of snow in an effort to conceal warm secrets. The pearls of the Parish House.

2010-01-03T16:01:00.016-05:00

Under a blanket of snow, citrus, petals, and Rilke are mandatory presences.

Wait ..., that tastes good ...It's already in flight
... Just a little music, a stamping, a humming - :
Girls, you warm, you silent girls,
Dance the taste of the fruit experienced!

Dance the Orange. Who can forget it,
how, drowning in itself, it resists
its being-sweet. You have possessed it.
It has been deliciously converted to you.

Dance the Orange. The warmer landscape,
fling it out of you, that the ripe one be radiant
in homeland breezes! Aglow, peel away

perfume on perfume! Create the relation
with the pure, reluctant rind,
with the juice that fills the happy fruit!

Flowers, kin in the end to those arranging hands,
(girls' hands of then and now),
you that lay on the garden table often from edge
to edge, drooping and gently hurt,

awaiting the water that once more was to recover you
from death already begun -, and now
lifted again between the streaming poles
of feeling fingers that are able to do

even more good than you guessed, light ones,
when you came to yourselves in the pitcher,
slowly cooling and giving warmness of girls,

like confessions, from you, like dreary wearying sins,
committed by your being plucked, relating you
again to those who are your allies in blooming.

(Polaroids by me, portraits by David Hamilton)

Rusty Dusk

2010-01-03T11:23:00.010-05:00

The infernal grey blanket is here, thickly woven, and stretched taut. Any prolonged absence of incandescence or volume in the sky puts me in a fowl mood. It’s as though a gauzy film covered my own eyes, and so I must travel back to this November day, where all bleakness was ravished by a rusty sunset. It spilled forth in copper waves, against which charred silhouettes gladly gave up the ghost. Leaves crackled like small flames on branches, falling in between rocks whose moss shimmered secretively. I stood outside in the humid chill warmed only by the electricity that pulsed through my retinas. What I wouldn’t give for such a current at this very moment.

2010-01-02T19:10:00.019-05:00

This was the perfect book with which to finish off the year. A richer experience I could not have asked for. When you are faced with a will to create such as this one, you can't help but feel transformed. I was dead to much I experienced for many months. It was a self imposed numbness, based on a conviction that my desires were faulty, and my dreams worthless. But as I brought out my little green highlighter, and began to mark the passages that made me swoon, I realized that I could no longer hold back my love. Be it for woman, book, or tree, every vision is worth having. And if I allow myself to envision beauty, then I shall possess it. And I shall be happy.

♥ ♥ ♥

'The dawn, even when it is cold and melancholy, never fails to shoot through my limbs as with arrows of sparkling piercing ice. I pull aside the thick curtains, and search for the first glow in the sky which shows that life is breaking through. And with my cheek leant upon the window pane I like to fancy that I am pressing as closely as can be upon the massy wall of time, which is for ever lifting and pulling and letting fresh spaces of life in upon us. May it be mine to taste the moment before it has spread itself over the rest of the world! Let me taste the newest and the freshest. From my window I look down upon the church yard, where so many of my ancestors are buried, and in my prayer I pity those poor dead men who toss perpetually on the old recurring waters; for I see them circling and eddying forever upon a pale tide. Let us, then, who have the gift of the present, use it and enjoy it: That I confess, is part of my morning prayer.' - The Journal of Mistress Joan Martyn

'I like to think of the tree itself: first the close dry sensation of being wood; then the grinding of the storm; then the slow, delicious ooze of sap. I like to think of it, too, on winter's night standing in the empty field with all leaves close-furled, nothing tender exposed to the iron bullets of the moon, a naked mast upon the earth that goes tumbling, tumbling all night long. The song of birds must sound very loud and strage in June; and how cold the feet of insects must feel upon it, as they make laborious professes up the creases of the bark, or sun themselves upon the thin green awning of the leaves, and look straight in front of them with diamond-cut red eyes...One by one the fibres snap beneath the immense cold pressure of the earth, then the last storm comes and, falling, the highest branches drive deep into the ground again. Even so, life isn't done with; there are a million patient, watchful lives still for a tree, all over the world, in bedrooms, in ships, on the pavements, living rooms, where men and women sit after tea, smoking cigarettes. It is full of peaceful thoughts, happy thoughts, this tree.' - The Mark on the Wall

'For me, a kiss. Imagine six little girls sitting before their easels twenty years ago, down by the side of a lake, painting the water lillies, the first red water lillies I'd ever seen. And suddenly a kiss, there on the back of my neck. And my hand shook all the afternoon so that I couldn't paint. I took out my watch and marked the hour when I would allow myself to think of the kiss for five minutes only - it was so precious - the kiss of an old grey-haired woman with a wart on her nose, the mother of all my kisses all my life.' - Kew Gardens

'Don't you remember, in early childhood, when, in play or talk, as one stepped across the puddle or reached the window on the landing, some imperceptible shock froze the universe to a solid ball of crystal which one held for a moment...' - 'It's an easy thing to confess one's faults. But what dusk is deep enough to hide one's virtues? I love, I adore - no, I can't tell you what a rose of worship my soul is - the names trembles on my lips - for Shakespeare.' - The Evening Party

'John, who had exclaimed “Politics be damned!” began burrowing his fingers down, down, into the sand. As his hand went further and further beyond the wrist, so that he had to hitch his sleeve a little higher, his eyes lost their intensity, or rather the background of thought and experience which gives an inscrutable depth to the eyes of grown people disappeared, leaving only the clear transparent surface, expressing nothing but wonder, which the eyes of young children display. No doubt the act of burrowing in the sand had something to do with it.' - Solid Objects

'The pointed fingers of glass hang downwards. The light slides down the glass, and drops a pool of green. All day long the ten fingers of the lustre drop green upon the marble. The feathers of parakeets their harsh cries sharp blades of palm trees green, too; green needles glittering in the sun. But the hard glass drips on to the marble; the pools hover above the desert sand; the camels lurch through them; the pools settle on the marble; rushes edge them; weeds clog them; here and there a white blossom; the frog flops over; at night the stars are set there unbroken. Evening comes, and the shadow sweeps the green over the mantlepiece; the ruffled surface of ocean. No ships come; the aimless waves sway beneath the empty sky. It's night; the needles drip blots of blue. The green's out.' - Blue & Green

"Quite alone" Mrs. Sutton repeated. That was what she could not conceive, she said, with a despairing swoop of her dark bright haired head - being happy, quite alone. "Yes" he said. In happiness there is always this terrific exaltation. It is not high spirits; nor rapture; nor praise, fame or health, it is a mystic state, a trance, and ecstasy which, for all that he was atheistic, skeptical, unbaptised, and all the rest of it, had, he suspected, some affinity with the ecstasy that turned men into priests, sent women in the prime of life trudging the streets with starched cyclamen-like frills about their faces, and set lips and stone eyes; but with this difference; them it prisoned; him it set free. It freed him from all dependence upon anyone upon anything' - Happiness

'It was so that Julia looked too, as she sat half turned on the music stool, smiling. It’s on the field, it’s on the pane, it’s in the sky—beauty; and I can’t get at it; I can’t have it—I, she seemed to add, with that little clutch of the hand which was so characteristic, who adore it so passionately, would give the whole world to possess it! And she picked up the carnation which had fallen on the floor, while Fanny searched for the pin. She crushed it, Fanny felt, voluptuously in her smooth veined hands stuck about with water–coloured rings set in pearls. The pressure of her fingers seemed to increase all that was most brilliant in the flower; to set it off; to make it more frilled, fresh, immaculate.' - Moments of Being

♥ ♥ ♥

2010-01-02T08:39:00.010-05:00

Pablo (Pablito) takes baths while singing, every morning. Claude, our Parakeet, is madly in love with him. He watches the daily ritual from on high, his cloud coloured plumage shivering with adoration. If you listen closely, he too coos out sonnets, only very quietly.

Turquoise

2010-01-01T12:29:00.006-05:00

Amber

2010-01-01T12:23:00.007-05:00

Scarlet

2010-01-01T12:17:00.005-05:00