The silk strings of the setting sun spread through the sky. Spinning their way into your soul. Captivating you. Breathing into you. The nostalgia of this timeless memory breathes the past into your mind and your senses explode.
Mesmerizing! I wonder how hard it was to take off that mascara.
I feel like this is something I would see at Scotiabank Nuit Blanche.
“secret painting” by mel ramsden (1967/68)
Today, I found the perfect shade of red lipstick. One obstacle conquered at a time.
If my university library looked this good, and had such a bookish feel to it, even I would probably prefer studying to going out. =O