But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair.

Spent the night with a massive crowd of transparent beings. 

She sat at the window of the train, her head thrown back, one leg stretched across to the empty seat before her. The window frame trembled with the speed of the motion, the pane hung over empty darkness, and dots of light slashed across the glass as luminous streaks, once in a while.

She sat listening to the music. It was a symphony of triumph. The notes flowed up, they spoke of rising and they were the rising itself, they were the essence and the form of upward motion, they seemed to embody every human act and thought that had ascent as its motive. It was a sunburst of sound, breaking out of hiding and spreading open. It had the freedom of release and the tension of purpose. It swept space clean, and left nothing but the joy of an unobstructed effort. Only a faint echo within the sounds spoke of that from which the music had escaped, but spoke in laughing astonishment at the discovery that there was no ugliness or pain, and there never had had to be. It was the song of an immense deliverance.

Impressive, Turkish Airlines. Impressive. 

So, so satisfying after a bland overnight airport stay.

Jeep gods, why do you tease me so?!

Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

Sometimes, 

the clouds do funny things.

Where did you come from, bird?

Inside Castello Part 1

WHERE'S the Poet? show him! show him,
Muses nine! that I may know him.
'Tis the man who with a man
Is an equal, be he King,
Or poorest of the beggar-clan
Or any other wonderous thing
A man may be 'twixt ape and Plato;
'Tis the man who with a bird,
Wren or Eagle, finds his way to
All its instincts; he hath heard
The Lion's roaring, and can tell
What his horny throat expresseth,
And to him the Tiger's yell
Come articulate and presseth
Or his ear like mother-tongue.

Some kind of fairy tale ~ ;) 

A view of alternatives.

This little batch somehow totally reminds me of COD4.

Via Giuseppe Mazzini / Via Della Memoria

From below

      

Non, rien de rien 
Non, je ne regrette rien 
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, ni le mal 
Tout ça m'est bien égal 

From above

   

Garden