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ida rentoul outhwaite 1921
william heath robinson
alphonse mucha
recondite romantic reveries
About Me
- zugaikotsu
- a fine art and fashion fotographer with an impeccable eye and a taste for the classic forlorn aesthetic. like shiny things scavenged by a crow, this is my collection of style and inspiration.
luna
CURRENT MOON
land of talk - its okay
fear of the dark
L’Homme craint tant l’obscurité qu’il en écorche les bords avec du feu.
- Rei Ayanami dans Evangelion
- Rei Ayanami dans Evangelion
Blog Archive
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2010
(329)
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December
(22)
- the perfect places of sleep
- be true
- the year is dead
- agalloch - falling snow
- bowie
- reign of the ice queen
- yule eve
- happy solstice!
- black lilies totally ripe
- sing it free across the sea
- to bed
- bitter winter winds
- desire and ice
- faun - egil saga
- the bath of artemis
- i dream you
- nikolay biryukov dovile virsilaite l'officiel nov ...
- greg lotus georgina stojiljkovic vogue italia octo...
- rainy day, dream away
- winters wicked winds
- kim bo ha-lee jung min - sure korea january 2007
- decembrrrrrrrrr!
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▼
December
(22)
time for tea
Tea does our fancy aid,
Repress those vapours which the head invade
And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
~Edmund Waller
Repress those vapours which the head invade
And keeps that palace of the soul serene.
~Edmund Waller
The Wasteland
April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
....
A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
exerpts from
T.S. Eliot
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
....
A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.
exerpts from
T.S. Eliot
"a great photographer is one that gives you confidence, that wants to have fun within the moment, doesn't stop you or give you boundaries. It's about flow and chemistry; you just go together, like a wave." -claudia schiffer
twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
how I wonder what you're at!
up above the world you fly,
like a tea tray in the sky.
twinkle, twinkle-
-lewis carroll
how I wonder what you're at!
up above the world you fly,
like a tea tray in the sky.
twinkle, twinkle-
-lewis carroll
ida rentoul outhwaite 1921
william heath robinson
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alphonse mucha
harry clarke
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