A little private hotel…

February 23, 2015

Books3

“A little private hotel over a well-known restaurant near the Gare St Lazare was Jolyon’s haunt in Paris. He hated his fellow Forsytes abroad – vapid as fish out of water in their well-trodden runs: the opera, rue de Rivoli, and Moulin Rouge. Their air of having come because they wanted to be somewhere else as soon as possible annoyed him. But no other Forsytes came near his haunt, where he had a wood fire in his bedroom and the coffee was excellent. Paris was always more attractive in winter. The acrid savour from wood-smoke and chestnut-roasting braziers, the sharpness of the wintery sunshine on bright days, the open cafes defying keen-aired winter, the self-contained brisk boulevard crowds, all informed him that in winter Paris possessed a soul which, like a migrant bird, in high summer flew away.”

John Galsworthy
In Chancery

When you live in the dark…

February 23, 2015

streetwalk

When you live in the dark for so long, you begin to love it. And it loves you back, and isn’t that the point? You think, the face turns to the shadows, and just as well. It accepts, it heals, it allows.

But it also devours.

Raymond Carver
Late Fragment

Good Impressions…

February 23, 2015

Tielevel

Witchy Kitchen….

February 23, 2015

witchykitchen

Reading for tonight….

February 23, 2015

TantricOrg

Deserters

February 23, 2015

solitude

Rain whispers suddenly when you
least expect it – moving on
impartially, everybody’s friend.

I’ll take it all in step, let it
strike my skin and listen to its
insinuating hushed hiss as

It muddies the miles between us,
commingling distance and longing.
The odd, anonymous raindrop

Absconds from the crowd, to
implode in disconsolate solo.
I’ll get used to missing you.

Katerina Sinclair

She tastes like nectar…

February 23, 2015

sitting on bar

She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.

Laini Taylor
Daughter of Smoke and Bone

Lives changed…

February 23, 2015

skulls

“Time after time, I have seen people healed, lives changed, and even weather transformed through magick. The results never seemed supernatural; that is, they did not flout gravity or produce something from nothing. Often they seemed synchronistic, almost coincidental, but the excuse of coincidence only stretches so far.”

Amber K
True Magick