The only place to read personal recounts of our resident vampire.

[X] Navigations are below

Tapestry Saturday, February 03, 2007

The still night air is as cold as it is silent. Not a chirp nor rustle nor whisper. Its as if the darkness also meant death. But there in the corner, in a frame of silver moonlight, sits a solitary moth. I reach over and stroke its dusty crimson wings ever so slightly and it barely even notices; just quivering those feathery antennae. I look closely into it glittering black eyes and see not only the reflection of my face, but also the image of my soul.





I did another red eye photo, and this time i made sure that it wouldnt be mistaken for brown.

Ouh and i'm putting up a photoset on my lj.