The sun laughed and seeds fell from the corners of her mouth. They burrowed deep into the earth and slept for a season.
I used to not like my hands, blocky and sturdy with thick knuckles, not dainty and delicate in the least. I always thought mine were better suited for a plow than a piano.
We’re only here for a little while, but some part of us remains forever.
It was his freckles that convinced her he was worth the extra effort.
The wall reached high overhead, ending in a soft curve of petals, pink against the blue of the sky.
The book had been waiting for her as many years as she’d been alive.
Every story is important. Especially the forgotten ones.
Alice In Wonderland was the first novel I ever read.
I just can’t help it, I love vintage. And it shows.
After I sketched this, I was inspired to write a little ode to the birds of the air. I hope you enjoy!