seasons.

mood.

Tulips, me over five years ago, sunset light in the living room, autumn leaves, home made cappuccino and a wrapped secret poem.

vintage faux fur.

I hate myself wearing this coat without heeled shoes, but sometimes I just have to be practical, which during the cold months ALWAYS translates in Dr. Martens.

anne shirley.

Anne: Mr. Cuthbert, what is this place called?

Matthew: The Avenue. Pretty, ain't it?

Anne: Pretty doesn't seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful either; it don't go far enough. It is wonderful. Wonderful. They shouldn't call this lovely place, "The Avenue"! There's no meaning in a name like that. They should call it, "White Way of Delight." It's far more glorious than I could ever have imagined.

Matthew: That's Barry's pond.

Anne: Oh, no. This is the Lake of Shining Waters. That's its rightful name. Do things like this ever give you a thrill, Mr. Cuthbert?

early autumn.

Botanic Garden, Copenhagen, in a very unusual (hot!) autumn day. Sad that the weather is now back to normal.

community, identity, stability

silly pictures of my hands.

Feet and hands... hands and feet.

dark grey cape.

chiché fall picture, molesting a dead leaf.