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?

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

Some pictures from a few weeks ago... Melon ice cream, easter egg, flower bouquets thrown away outside a cemetery, someone's balcony, pink nail polish, first blossoms.

I hate flying.

Especially when it gets dark...

yesterday.

Open sandwich, morning light, dirty window.

elope.

Just because I need an escape right now.

ten years living in a paper bag.

community, identity, stability

dark grey cape.

chiché fall picture, molesting a dead leaf.

wonderland.

Missing Paris...