All those people who pluck at flowers and wonder who loved whom or not? I am not one of those. I am one who has seen the truth. Your truth. My truth. The truth in the tender sprouting of fearful blooms and of the delicate crunching of your ribs into mine.
Perception. Seeing. Hearing. Smell. Tasting, touching. The smells given a forgotten memories. Childhood fragrances. Good and bad experiences. And come the previous life to come. To feel someone's smell is not there with you. Special ability.
Images of art, design, fashion and fancy. 20 images of the same tone or color in a row. over and over and over again. Straight from a modern mother in the fine city of Portland, OR. Check out my other blog art,fashion and interior design Find me on...
I am more sensitive than other people. Things that other people would not notice awaken a distinct echo in me, and in such moments of lucidity, when I look at myself, I see that I am alone, all alone, all alone and that's just how it is. ~Henri Barbusse