tina

About me:

www.tinazellmer.com
illustration



....I even hear the mountains - the way they laugh up and down their blue sides and down in the water the fish cry and the water is their tears. I listen to the water on nights. I drink away and the sadness becomes so great I hear it in my clock it becomes knobs upon my dresser, it becomes paper on the floor, it becomes a shoehorn, a laundry ticket, it becomes cigarette smoke, climbing a chapel of dark vines. . . it matters little, very little. love is not so bad or very little life what counts is waiting on walls. I was born for this, I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead. (Tyler Durden, Fight Club)