moon water & moon water vials with pink quartz ♡☾
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morning reflections and evening shadows
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There may still be snow on the ground, but it’s spring under my dress.
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The journal is a product of the disease, perhaps an accentuation and exaggeration of it. I speak of relief when I write—perhaps—but it is also an engraving of pain, a tattooing on myself, a prolongation of pain.
Anaïs Nin, from her diary, as seen in the introduction to A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953
(via fleurstains)
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I have looked at you
in millions of ways and
I have loved you in each
Haiku (via merryful)
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