Veins run deep. Pockets of distortion, pits and sticks. A landscape cracked and disturbed, stained and bleached from the sun. Colors soft, contrast drifting into shade. Solid, firm, reliable as an East wind. In stone a story I hear with my fingers.
"Nothing Exceeds Like Superfluous Jejunity "
Stories and Musings on Modern Life
Spiritual Metaphysics, Poetry, Photography
Explorations in Authenticity by Michael Mark
Myths, legends, folklore and tales from around the world
❈ Silvia Ganora Photography ❈
Free to Be!
Usually Poetry
traditional haiku in the english language
Love
Intertwined passions ~
Welcome to My Playground!
Travel, Write, Pray, Repeat
Auf einmal ist alles relativ