flame for katie.
Kneel as it falls.
Kc- 26.01.12

I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mending whole was good as new. What is broken is broken – and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.
—	 Emily Lopez

Kneel as it falls.

Kc- 26.01.12

I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mending whole was good as new. What is broken is broken – and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.

— Emily Lopez

BLACKOUT.

Kc- 24.01.12

BLACKOUT.

Kc- 24.01.12

I could not help it: the restlessness was in my nature.— Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre.

Either way.

I am.

           

          

            

Kc- Playing.

Wounded by dust- Laura Marling.

Kc. 11.01.12
Lino Print.
Well, I wonder.
 
 
 

nirvikalpa:


my soul clings to the walls of ocean caves:soaked shadows and lights echoing back absent voices of mine and feelings i can never make sense of—for i live from a conviction of the sacredness of my own individuality;as if i am grappling for solid groundwith death beneath my feet,
as if all the oceans and hallowed icons were contained in my palm:a hymnal with one verse singing her only praisei read it through the breath of the morning rain,i feel it through the being of my lone oak tree;
as if the universe herself were some allegorical creature,creating and existing only to rehearse, play,and celebrate 


her scared ancient rites

Kc. 11.01.12

Lino Print.

Well, I wonder.

nirvikalpa:

my soul clings to the walls of ocean caves:
soaked shadows and lights echoing back 
absent voices of mine and feelings 
i can never make sense of—

for i live from a conviction of the sacredness 
of my own individuality;
as if i am grappling for solid ground
with death beneath my feet,

as if all the oceans and hallowed icons 
were contained in my palm:
a hymnal with one verse 
singing her only praise

i read it through the breath of the morning rain,
i feel it through the being of my lone oak tree;


as if the universe herself 
were some allegorical creature,
creating and existing only to rehearse, play,
and celebrate 

her scared ancient rites

Ashes.

            

Final Tattoo drawing.

Kc-17.12.11

             

& Poppy’s Tattoo in progress.

Meantime.

         

             

Lino Prints in progress.

Kc. 11.01.12

Iridescent.