Summer in Winter I can hear the departed whisper No longer strangersThe eyelids have opened, and the eyes are now returning the world's gaze, says Anita AlbusA world with a view It Don't Mean A Thing: under the spell And it was not long until he walked again in long strides, started to proceed swiftly and impatiently, heading no longer for home, no longer to his father, no longer back. 折り紙remaining open to an infinite number of unexpected possibilities yesteryears: a world long goneKerazan Nation Our soul is a three-master seeking port Spring into Spring B for Redon's red BOAT he heard the woman scream, and at the collision his vision went for in your eyes I shall see the edge of the worldsipping espresso in invisible cities noble letters no discontent in our winter fragments & markers virtual dream land in company of good women and men At full speed, with bridles loose, swords in their teeth pistols in fist,--such was the attack The Curious Hat: Cards Galore Lewis Hine - American Photographer - 1874-1940 The Luminous Ones pink links for a mink in a sink for ever France I can hear the Impressionists's strokes On the echo of my childhood I write your name ...for these are my people Thus spoke the image On the joy of gardeningfloriture