Old cornstalks stroked and soothed his cheek as he passed, and he could smell the earth in their long, brown, dying veins.
(My photo)
*
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
October Country
...that country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain...
-Ray Bradbury
-Ray Bradbury
ABOUT
Halloween, poetry, photography, ambient music, my Halloween creations...and anything else I feel like.
About Me
- bean
- Born with Halloween & horror in the blood. Photographer. Writer. Maker of many things. Connoisseur of horror films, with over 25 years of viewing & education. ~All photos, writings, and artistic works done by yours truly across all my blogs are copyrighted to me. **It must be noted, I am former collaborator and wife of the Halloween artist Pumpkinrot. Collaborator: 2008 thru 2018, Wife: 2008 thru 2020.
CONTACT
fallingblackbirds at gmail dot com
Statcounter
1 comment:
Really nice little mood piece there. Between the passage and the photo I was in it.
Post a Comment