I feel more and more every day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds. ~John Keats (letter, 1818)

tracing of cloud

"What I seek in the poem is not refuge, but a place where truth can breathe, even if only briefly.” — Paul Celan to René Char

dieser hübsche schwalbenschwanz hat mich gestern abend in aller ruhe fotos machen lassen - #foto #photography #shotoniphone #foto_ch #schmetterling #butterfly

Gertrude Abercrombie Cat with Blue Ball, 1956 #WomensArt

Painted by Tawaraya Sotatsu Calligraphy by Hon'ami Köetsu Calligraphy of a Poem over a Design of Chrysanthemums Edo Period (1615-1868)

. Sunday I wait Time stretches .

. Sunday I wait Time stretches .

trust the beauty. in the sky in the clouds, in the flower's face. the gifts from beyond are strategically near, blessed by the weather of the soul. you are not meant to suffer. you are meant to share. it is a gift of the senses that keeps you here, it is a wound that it heals.

I feel more and more every day, as my imagination strengthens, that I do not live in this world alone but in a thousand worlds. ~John Keats (letter, 1818)

leave the wolves alone

I like this a lot. My mum worked in a chip shop for decades, and I had a morning job there from when I was about 11, putting the spuds in the rumbler to peel them. Carried it on through university holidays and even after. I can smell the salt sizzle on the scraps.

Brian Groom@groomb.bsky.social · yesterday

Fish and chip shop, painting by Salford-born Tom Dodson (1911-91).

Rum from Eigg

Zorro ❤️ | A Lovely Tuxedo Istanbul Kitten 🐈‍⬛ #cat #cats #catsofbluesky #catpics #catlover #Blueskyねこ部 #caturday #nature #kittens #catsofistanbul #photography #catsky #istanbul #kitten #streetphoto #streetphotography #photographersofbluesky #naturephotography #tuxedocat #tuxedokitten

Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words and everything in the world understands it. Perhaps there is a soul hidden in everything and it can always speak, without even making a sound, to another soul. Frances Hodgson Burnett

via dei cimatori firenze, it

In short, our gentleman became so caught up in reading that he spent his nights reading from dusk till dawn and his days reading from sunrise to sunset, and so with too little sleep and too much reading his brains dried up, causing him to lose his mind. - Cervantes, Don Quixote #BookWormSat

of swans and myths of transformation and enlightenment- good night, have beautiful dreams ph. m.von roth

Here's my #InFlight #BirdOfTheDay: A Great Grey Owl swooping upwards over a snowy backdrop. Hope we'll be seeing some here again soon! #birds #owls

tracing of cloud

leave the wolves alone

out she looks as if by signal unrepaired by mystery

me, working a little on the novel today

meanwhile, the pearls as little agonies being not themselves words but lost souls of the alphabet grit and miracle-- a rounded hope

With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. Sylvia Plath