He wore a pellegrina, purple trimmed. It looked like wings deflated by transgression Advertisements
She wanted to touch it, that rust-caked, high rolled, weird wheel (remnant of a blown up grist mill?), sitting there like a steam punk manifesto. It had to be some misfit
I dreamed a mirror on a wall, attenuated strands of fire in the room, ice raining down. Three symbols, blurred in
She walks, timorous on snow soft spread on summer boardwalk, feet like hewn logs, tipped. Her
Monet’s Garden in Giverny, France had been on my bucket list for decades. I finally visited last fall and reveled in blooms bursting with color even as trees dropped their leaves and hay withered in the fields. This is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.
Swarm of gnats tumbling, sounds, not theirs, teasing. Someone talks, compact tones
This staircase is in the Gothic cathedral in Rouen, Normandy, a part of France that takes your breath away. This is for “Cee’s Which Way Challenge.”
One of my all-time favourites. An unexpected treasure. Found while driving in South Georgian Bay, on a rural road, beside a hedge at the edge of a farm field, no house in sight. Is it art? I still wonder about the person who put it there. The Road […]