novembre

novembre n'est pas au cœur des ténèbres.

Little things on paper

A day in the woods..

 

fall, falling

till we came upon this road,

till we came upon this road

You held a doll in your arms at the station, I held the sun
and commanded it shine through the all the decay and straight to my pale, pale skin

 I felt so small under the tall trees.
the best kind of tiny.

Monday: Two self portraits