[tkkatherineblog]

Inst @ettrumtill

[goodreadss]

Landscape with Couple Walking and Crescent Moon, Vincent van Gogh (1890) Landscape with the Chateau of Auvers at Sunset, Vincent van Gogh (1890)

[artofmaquenda]

Wolf Goddess

[kemurikusa]

[wonderworldmotion]

[virtuallyinsane]

by Rikki Austin

[e-l-a-s-i-n-a]

[zarianka-deactivated20190609]

Komorebi

Def: The interplay between light and leaves when sunlight shines through trees (Japanese)

[hoodoothatvoodoo-deactivated201]

Mornin’

[heavenhillgirl]

Private Vices, Public Pleasures (1976), dir. Miklós Jancsó

[theotreptos]

Polaroids of Audrey by Mark Shaw

[leselfov]

wood anemone by onebouquetperday

[moonskek-deactivated20251028]

“Gwenhwyfar” by Brian Froud

She is the white shadow, dancing by moonlight to the faery piper’s tune, leaving tiny white star flowers to glow where her feet have trod. She dreams that she dances among constellations far beyond our knowing.

Faeries love to dance. Their music is the most haunting music ever heard by human ears, sad and sweet, deeply sensual, tranquil one moment, demented the next. The White Ladies are luminous faery creatures who dance by the light of the moon, beautiful as the music itself, trailing patterns of color and mist in their wake. Faeries often dance in circles, leaving rings of flattened grass to mark the sites of their midnight revels-or circle of toadstools springing up where faery feet have trod.

Faeries dwell in the twilight, between day and night, between spirit and matter, between the conscious and the unconscious…where all things are possible, where our past and future meet, where we meet ourselves coming back. When we dance with the faeries, we dance with the reflections of our true inner self of the world.

[klaasfoto]

Her Highness.

[moonskek-deactivated20251028]

“Beneath The Surface” by Brian Froud

Wet, mossy places, pools and pondweed: I live in the cool, wet darkness. I do not pull the mortals down below the water, as their stories tell. I do not care for them in the least. When they dip a hand into my world or when they dangle feet beneath the surface, cooling their strange toes, I do not bite them or pinch them. Such imaginations they have, to make believe I wish to harm them. Truth be told, I hide from them and close my eyes and wait until my world is once more calm and clear, and then I peer above the water’s surface and count myself lucky to be alone again.

[jonireadsbooks]

Trinity College Library (Long Room) Dublin, Ireland

[synqra]

https://www.instagram.com/p/BTQhNJujBEp/