About me: I am a photographer... My subjects are Pain,loss,sorrow,loneliness and despair
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I am Nothing At all
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Who I'd like to meet: All of you
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Come by for Thanksgiving, and I'll make sure I serve my specialty, cranberry sauce in the shape of a can. Lines and everything! mmmmmm mmmmmm . But it will be made with love... and a can opener.
With you a part of me hath passed away; For in the peopled forest of my mind A tree made leafless by this wintry wind Shall never don again its green array. Chapel and fireside, country road and bay, Have something of their friendliness resigned; Another, if I would, I could not find, And I am grown much older in a day. But yet I treasure in my memory Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease, And the dear honour of your amity; For these once mine, my life is rich with these. And I scarce know which part may greater be,-- What I keep of you, or you rob from me.
I wish I could give you something so sadly beautiful as an angels sigh or a lambs tear and provide it in a tangible way like you do. Somehow stick people are not so poetic.
"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best
shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?" ~Edgar Allan Poe WWW.CEMETERYPRINTS.COM
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West. My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.
♥ 
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