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A Poem Written Long Ago
When my hand brushes your nipple, An electric shock runs between my legs And surprises me there. When my hand glides against The curve of ...
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So here we go, 2025. Many did not come along with us. We persist for now. I admit to a certain amount of melancholy this season. I spent Ch...
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When my hand brushes your nipple, An electric shock runs between my legs And surprises me there. When my hand glides against The curve of ...
A beautifully balanced composition. I enjoy poking about in old churchyards - except the one in the village where I grew up; there are far too many old friends in there.
ReplyDeleteyes, I love that leaning tree. This was the Père Lachaise Cemetery, in Paris. No, we didn't hunt for Jim Morrison's plot!
DeleteLove this composition, Tara. It's beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Robin. I love photographing in old cemeteries.
DeleteThe photograph is fantastic. I'm such a lover of old cemeteries that I can just imagine myself roaming around out there. Did you just happen to catch the perfect light or did you wait and watch for it? I love it.
ReplyDeletePère Lachaise Cemetery is a wonderful place to roam -- and soooo much and so many hills to climb! I just happened to catch the perfect light. Lucky me!
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