THE BROOK

by Alfred Lord Tennyson

I come from haunts of coot and hern, 

I make a sudden sally 

And sparkle out among the fern, 

To bicker down a valley. 

INTO THE WOODS ONE RAINY MORNING

"In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things.  In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me."     

- John Fowles 

words to live by

After a week-long of holidays I am now back online. I got to make these collection of graphics during my free time and decided to share them with you. Hope you like it.