Fields of flowers bow to me when my bare feet touch the wet soil of the battleground. Delicate white petals dancing on a crimson swamp; the intoxicating scent of rusted iron and musky sweat impregnated air. The sky weights heavy and their bodies lie barren; a withering horn of plenty longing for earthy renewal. I don’t walk on hooves, I don’t wear horns, I don’t carry a tail.
A very small wish of my dirt soiled hand that plucks the most beautiful
flower as porcelain white petals caress my skin. The severity of a
world is the transience of a single blossom. A gentle breeze kissed the flowers farewell and as they leave so do I; taking the storm with me.
My kiss invokes rebirth and my sickle cuts through grey-clouded sky for I am the stormy altar,
Now that Montreal’s all snowed in (yes, I had thought it was spring too…), thought I would share my Tommy cafe pics with you. Throwing it back to a beautiful day in March that gave me way too much hope on an early spring… Nonethess, such a cute spot in Old Montreal to check out! It’s really one of the best in the city. <3
Sidenote: The acai bowl wasn’t mine. My friend asked a stranger to Instagram his aesthetic food.