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Madagascar  The season of fog   I've always loved trees, but I've never seen such unusual ones.

Madagascar The season of fog I've always loved trees, but I've never seen such unusual ones.

Downloadable wall art // Into the forest Art print - Black & White Welcome to Scandinavian Print Art! Print out the art on your printer at

Forest print, forest art, black and white forest, minimalist landscape, trees, forest fog, top selling, nature photography, nature prints

Downloadable wall art // Into the forest Art print - Black & White Welcome to Scandinavian Print Art! Print out the art on your printer at

Found myself in the middle of the forest. Down on my knees into the forest.

Found myself in the middle of the forest. Down on my knees into the forest.

Marina focused, her palms flat on the ground, and shut her eyes. Alec took a step back into Maddie, who wrapped her arm through his. As Marina began to rise before them, the fog followed suit.

Marina focused, her palms flat on the ground, and shut her eyes. Alec took a step back into Maddie, who wrapped her arm through his. As Marina began to rise before them, the fog followed suit.

"The foggy, cloudy morning makes everything grey and eerie instead of the golden light I experienced the first time I ventured into the Silva"

"The foggy, cloudy morning makes everything grey and eerie instead of the golden light I experienced the first time I ventured into the Silva"

“Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.”  ― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

“Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it’s heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket.” ― Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale

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