" I like to live in the sound of water, in the feel of the mountain air. A sharp reminder hits me: this world still is alive; it stretches out there shivering toward its own creation, and I’m part of it. Even my breathing enters into this elaborate give-and-take, this bowing to sun and moon, day and night, winter, summer, storm, still—this tranquil chaos that seems to be going somewhere. This wilderness with a great peacefulness in it. This motionless turmoil, this everything dance. "
William Stafford
via slekes
Prospect Heights townhouse, NYC. indigo & ochre design.
via:agiftwrappedlife
Elie Saab 2014
Flowers in the bright sunlight.
via:hawaiiancoconut
Alexander McQueen fall 2014
vogue.com
"Perhaps, I thought, while her words still hung in the air between us like a wisp of tobacco — a thought to fade and vanish like smoke without a trace — perhaps all our loves are merely hints and symbols; a hill of many invisible crests; doors that open as in a dream to reveal only a further stretch of carpet and another door; perhaps you and I are types and this sadness which sometimes falls between us springs from disappointment in our search, each straining through and beyond the other, snatching a glimpse now and then of the shadow which turns the corner always a pace or two ahead of us."
Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited
(via thierrry)
The Little Monastery Vaucelleshof, Belgium
Vaucelleshof belongs to interior designers alain & brigitte garnier
Etro Fall 2014
via Stylebistro.com
Rona Pfeiffer, Blue Diamond Cigar Band
via: fallonelizabeth
The Little Monastery Vaucelleshof, Belgium
Vaucelleshof belongs to interior designers alain & brigitte garnier
via:hippybeachgirl
The Little Monastery Vaucelleshof, Belgium
Vaucelleshof belongs to interior designers alain & brigitte garnier
FALLON RUN gold details, spring 2014
ph imaxtree|fashionwirepress
" Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad. “How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense”, he thought. "
Franz Kafka, The Metamorphosis
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