One happy sunflower. Down the street from our house.
One happy sunflower. Down the street from our house.
Courtesy of Jonathan Feinberg’s Haiku Finder:
No soul will live there. The spider pitches her web in the solitude. Something poisonous I ate. Emblem of luck. Why? Probably lost cattle. The keys of Dublin, crossed on a crimson cushion, are given to him. Patriotism, sorrow for the dead, music, future of the race. He averts his face. Bella from within the hall urges on her whores. Was the narration otherwise unaltered by modifications? Mr Bloom came last folding his paper again into his pocket. Piled up in cities, worn away age after age. Pyramids in sand. Well, my fault perhaps. No son. Rudy. Too late now. Or if not? If not? Yours for the asking. Because they want it themselves. Their natural craving. Bad plan however if you don't know how to end the conversation.
Just off Market St, San Francisco
Venn Diagram - Happiness in Business (via budcaddell)
Tree and light, Woodhaven
Run down courtyard, Point Reyes Station
Fire road to Vision
Palm tree, Point Reyes Station