DECEMBER DESCENDED

“I love to watch the fine mist 

of the night come on, 

the windows and the stars illumined, 

one by one, 

the rivers of dark smoke pour upward lazily, 

& the moon rise and turn them silver."

 I shall see the springs, the summers, 

& the autumns slowly pass; 

And when old Winter puts his blank face to the glass, 

I shall close all my shutters, 

pull the curtains tight, 

& build me stately palaces 

by candlelight.”

words:  Charles Baudelaire, Les Fleurs du Mal

music: Olafur Arnalds

last image:

model ~ Iris Haapanen 

muah ~ Meghna Mukherjee 

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SOLEMN SILENCE (Wanderings around Malta, Conclusion)

“For now she need not think of anybody.

She could be herself, by herself."

"And that was what now she often felt the need of - 

to think; well not even to think. 

To be silent; to be alone."

"All the being and the doing, 

expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated;

and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, 

to being oneself, 

a wedge-shaped core of darkness, 

something invisible to others..."

"and this self 

having shed its attachments 

was free 

for the strangest adventures.”

Virginia Woolf: To the Lighthouse