Blue. Kettles and tea cups. The fine lines on that old English wall. The patterns.. no that tiny little smudge on the table cloth. The bed that was not in a parallel line to the wall. Blue. The tiny mismatch... Continue Reading →
Its the epitome of lifethe dripping of an oil lampimages in the reddish flame..of black soot rising during glance.. Blimp blimp of a leaking roof..lights hitting the roundish drops..of rose blossoms turning in the wine..and fragrances turning to lead.