N A I L S

“ℕ𝕒π•₯𝕦𝕣𝕖’𝕀 𝕣𝕦𝕀π•₯ π•’π•—π•—π•šπ•£π•žπ•€ π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕀 π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π• π•Ÿπ•π•ͺ π•šπ•Ÿ 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕦π•₯ π•šπ•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•§π• π•”π•’π•π•šπ•«π•’π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕀π•₯π•šπ•π•π•Ÿπ•–π•€π•€ – 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕕 π•¨π•™π•–π•Ÿ π•π•šπ•—π•– 𝕀π•₯π•¦π•žπ•“π•π•–π•€ π• π•Ÿ 𝕙𝕖𝕣 π•€π•–π•–π•žπ•šπ•Ÿπ•˜π•π•ͺ π••π•šπ•€π•”π• π•¦π•Ÿπ•₯𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕦𝕖𝕀.

π•Šπ•™π•– π•€π•‘π•–π•’π•œπ•€ π•šπ•Ÿ π•£π•–π•žπ•–π•žπ•“π•£π•’π•Ÿπ•”π•– 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕒π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ, 𝕠𝕗 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•€π•¦π•—π•—π•–π•£π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ 𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 π•˜π•–π•Ÿπ•–π•£π•’π•₯π•šπ• π•Ÿ π•žπ•¦π•€π•₯ π•–π•Ÿπ••π•¦π•£π•–, π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕠𝕗 π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕑𝕖 π•šπ•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•¨π•šπ•Ÿπ••’𝕀 π•€π• π•Ÿπ•˜. π•Šπ•™π•– π•¨π•’π•Ÿπ•₯𝕀 𝕦𝕀 π•₯𝕠 π•œπ•Ÿπ• π•¨ 𝕀𝕙𝕖 π•šπ•€ 𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕀𝕙𝕖𝕕, 𝕓𝕦π•₯ π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•šπ•₯ π•šπ•€π•Ÿ’π•₯ 𝕙𝕖𝕣 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•šπ•€ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•§π•šπ•”π•₯π•šπ•ž 𝕠𝕗 π•”π•šπ•£π•”π•¦π•žπ•€π•₯π•’π•Ÿπ•”π•–.

ℍ𝕖𝕣 π•”π•£π•’π•”π•œπ•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•šπ•€ 𝕗𝕒𝕝𝕀𝕖, π•žπ•’π••π•– π•šπ•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕑𝕖 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕨𝕖 π••π•šπ•€π•”π•–π•£π•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•₯𝕣𝕦𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕀π•₯𝕀 𝕠𝕗 π•žπ•¦π•π•₯π•š-π•‘π•’π•£π•’π••π•šπ•˜π•žπ•€, π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•π•–π•’π•£π•Ÿ 𝕙𝕠𝕨 π•₯𝕠 π••π•šπ•€π•₯π•£π•šπ•“π•¦π•₯𝕖 𝕠𝕦𝕣 π•¨π•–π•šπ•˜π•™π•₯ π•₯𝕠 π• π•”π•”π•’π•€π•šπ• π•Ÿπ•€ 𝕠𝕗 π•—π•šπ•–π•£π•”π•– 𝕛𝕠π•ͺ 𝕣𝕒π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣 π•₯π•™π•’π•Ÿ π•–π•Ÿπ•£π•’π•˜π•–π•• π••π•–π•€π•‘π•’π•šπ•£.

π•Šπ•™π•– π•¨π•’π•Ÿπ•₯𝕀 𝕦𝕀 π•₯𝕠 𝕀𝕖𝕖 π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕖𝕖π•₯ π•”π•’π•Ÿ 𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣 π•Ÿπ•  𝕀𝕙𝕖𝕝π•₯𝕖𝕣 π•₯𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕣 π•”π•£π•’π•”π•œπ•šπ•Ÿπ•˜, π•Ÿπ• π•£ π•”π•’π•Ÿ 𝕠𝕦𝕣 π•¦π•žπ•“π•£π•–π•π•π•’π•€ 𝕣𝕖𝕀π•₯𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕣 π•₯𝕠 𝕠𝕦𝕣 π•“π•–π•π•šπ•–π•— 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕀𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕀, π•šπ•€, 𝕠𝕣 π•žπ•’π•ͺ π•“π•–π•”π• π•žπ•–.”

~𝐿𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽 𝑀. 𝐿𝑒𝒾𝓉𝓃𝑒

On Your Skin

β€œI want to see the thirst
inside the syllables
I want to touch the fire
in the sound:
I want to feel the darkness
of the cry. I want
words as rough
as virgin rocks.”
― Pablo Neruda

C h e r r y . W h i n e

β€œTo be acceptable is for one to ignore his weakness while knowing his strength, to cover the scar even though it’s always there, however, to be impossible is for one to see his weakness as, not an adversary, but the cherry on top of his strength, to rearrange the scar so that it compliments his features.”
― Criss Jami

20/20 Places

“There are no green thumbs or black thumbs. There are only gardeners and non-gardeners. Gardeners are the ones who ruin after ruin get on with the high defiance of nature herself, creating, in the very face of her chaos and tornado, the bower of roses and the pride of irises. It sounds very well to garden a ‘natural way’. You may see the natural way in any desert, any swamp, any leech-filled laurel hell. Defiance, on the other hand, is what makes gardeners.”
~ Henry Mitchell

Gravitas

β€œΨ―Ψ±Ψ―Ω‡Ψ§ΨŒ Ψ§Ϊ―Ψ± فرد Ψ±Ψ§ Ω†Ψ΄Ϊ©Ω†Ω†Ψ―ΨŒ Ψ¨Ω‡ او غرور Ω…ΫŒ Ψ’Ω…ΩˆΨ²Ω†Ψ―.”
― SΓΈren Kierkegaard

B u t e o

β€œYou’re my dream. I want to crawl inside your skin and see how you taste from the inside. I could spend a decade just listening to you sigh like that. Spend time? Give me every fucking minute and I’ll worship you like the sick, depraved bastard I am.”
― V. Theia

A l b a t r o s s

“As for me, I used to be a bird
with a gentle white womb,
someone cut my throat
just for laughs,
I don’t know.
As for me, I used to be a great albatross
and whirled over the seas.
Someone put an end to my journey,
without any charity in the tone of it.
But even stretched out on the ground
I sing for you now
my songs of love.”
~ Alda Merini

A s h e s

β€œIt’s not about the ashes, for they tell a tale of what was. It’s about having a vision sufficient to understand that the tale that lies among the ashes stands ready to build the dream that will rise above the ashes.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

b e d

β€œDaily dawns another day;
I must up, to make my way.
Though I dress and drink and eat,
Move my fingers and my feet,
Learn a little, here and there,
Weep and laugh and sweat and swear,
Hear a song, or watch a stage,
Leave some words upon a page,
Claim a foe, or hail a friend-
Bed awaits me at the end.”
― Dorothy Parker

Ribbonized

“An artist should never be prisoner of himself, prisoner of a style, prisoner of success, etc. Did not the Goncourts write that the artists of the great age of Japanese art changed names many times during their careers? I like that; they wanted to safeguard their freedom.”
~ Henri Matisse

The Best of…

“There is no Best trophy awarded to Truth, because Truth has no winner, but should it find itself in competition with another, then favor goes to the ones that stay the course long after the racetrack has disappeared.”
~ Laura Lynn Vala

T h e . E y e

β€œI feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness which characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm. I think that art has something to do with an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction.”

― Saul Bellow

Dusk

β€œSoon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgundy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.”
― Jack Kerouac

Garden Wanderers

“His scent attracted me not from physical distance, but from eternities I’d mourned without him. No matter what the world said was appropriate, I would taste him, and remember who we were, and how to one another, we were groves of love.”
~ Laura Lynn Vala

Pro-Choice

“Professionals do not allow their inner lives to encumber the wheels directing their path. Their only choice is to ride their inner child atop the outer path of freedom.”
β€” Jeri Nicoli

His Palette

β€œThe β€˜Muse’ is not an artistic mystery, but a mathematical equation. The gift are those ideas you think of as you drift to sleep. The giver is that one you think of when you first awake.”
― Roman Payne

M n e m o s y n e

β€œThe pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we’d done were less real and important than they had been hours before.”
― John Green

Lustre

β€œThere is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of your days? I will do that. Do you want me to crawl? I will crawl. I will be quiet for you or sing for you, or if you are hungry, let me bring you food, or if you have thirst and nothing will quench it but Arabian wine, I will go to Araby, even though it is across the world, and bring a bottle back for your lunch. Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do.”
― William Goldman

The Description

β€œIn the Winter of my life I fell in love with Autumn and you. The leaves will change and fall but your love I feel is here to stay, at least for just another day.”
― Maria Koszler

S C E N T | H E R

β€œTo hear never-heard sounds,
To see never-seen colors and shapes,
To try to understand the imperceptible
Power pervading the world;
To fly and find pure ethereal substances
That are not of matter
But of that invisible soul pervading reality.
To hear another soul and to whisper to another soul;
To be a lantern in the darkness
Or an umbrella in a stormy day;
To feel much more than know.
To be the eyes of an eagle, slope of a mountain;
To be a wave understanding the influence of the moon;
To be a tree and read the memory of the leaves;
To be an insignificant pedestrian on the streets
Of crazy cities watching, watching, and watching.
To be a smile on the face of a woman
And shine in her memory
As a moment saved without planning.”
― Dejan Stojanovic

Tall Grass

β€œTears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depths of some devine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy autumn fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.”
― Alfred Lord Tennyson