my white room


i never saw a moor—
i never saw the sea—
yet know i how the heather looks
and what a billow be.

e.d.



10/19/13

experience is a private, and 
a very largely speechless affair.

james baldwin

















vrsar and all the colors of the world

it was fiesta and streets were abandoned.
wooden tables and stools by the walls, 
outside of homes. it is hard to realize that 
this place exists. 







утром шел снег. проснулась рано, потом шел дождь,
я под него так хорошо уснула. и потом выходило 
солнце несколько раз и сыпал маленький мокрый
снег. меняется погода и настроение, но не так сильно,
а так, в хорошем. хурма, рисую, в комнате чистота.


8 comments:

  1. Beautiful photographs of hands.
    And the colours of the painted doors!

    ReplyDelete
  2. fascinating
    colours and hands
    deeply beautiful indeed
    i am dreaming of a deserted city...
    that maybe does'nt exist

    ReplyDelete
  3. to touch and open.
    beautiful poetic view

    ReplyDelete
  4. beautiful, silent
    like stills from a film

    ReplyDelete
  5. руки красивые. как будто на них хна

    ReplyDelete
  6. opening the doors, so prophetic...

    ReplyDelete

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warmly,
olga.




olga