Tag Archive: I might cry for thy beauty


“One day when you wake up, you will find that you have become a forest. You have grown roots and found strength in them that no one thought you had. You have become stronger and more beautiful, full of life giving qualities. You have learned to take all the negativity around you and turn it into oxygen for easy breathing. A host of wild creatures live inside you and you call them stories. A variety of beautiful birds rest inside your mind and you call them memories. You have become an incredible self sustaining thing of epic proportions. And you should be so proud of yourself, of how far you have come from the seeds of who you used to be.”

– Nikita Gill, You Have Become a Forest (via meanwhilepoetry)

Annunci

Ho appena avuto tempo per aggiornare tutti i vari mod per il real-world feel…ommioddio!!!!

Sims 2 sta avendo una Renaissance Era e chi lo vuole Sims 4 a questo punto!!!!

Guardate il mio cielo all’alba!!!!

unit

 

Solo da statico!!! L’immagine non rende il fatto che il sole/stelle/lune maxis si muovono, l’acqua riflette come quella di sims3 e le nuvole si muovono!!!

I almost can’t believe it myself!!!! AND ALL OF THESE DO NOT LAG THE GAME (I have a full installation up to M&G with every SP, more than 11000 files in 5GB of CC and all settings on high, a miracle!!!)

Thank you so much to the creators of all these wonderful CC:

  • Lowedeus – moving clouds, skybox
  • SimNopke – skyfix 2.1
  • Greatcheesecakepersona for the 360° degrees horizons
  • Gunmod’s Radiance
  • Voeille’s default terrains+seabed, and sea/pond mods

Non ho quasi mai il tempo di giocare ma cavoli se mi sta tornando la voglia!!!!

THIS IS SO AMAZING!!! ❤

PS: a little question…i need a good Neighborhood camera mod…any tips?

“The Elven Path, the magick way,
Take us to the hidden glade,
A place wherein the true self born,
Wisdom gained of eldritch form,
Drink deep of the ancient brew,
On the hazel nuts we chew,
Walk the woods, both out and in,
Reunite with our fae kin.”

– Robin Green-Elk

Adrift from Simon Christen on Vimeo.

I’ll always be a chrysalis, saving my colours for a better, sunnier day.
In summer I shall sleep in the darkness of my homeward woods, lulled by the cries of the prey.
Shadows and shades of green, peaceful slumber for a never-would-be butterfly.

In winter ego is the furnace of my worlds.
I write to shape them, countless rules bound to my imagination.
I am living hundreds of years just by finding the best path to turn on.
From night to morning, stoking up the flames.
Never once lonely, always thrilled by the chase for perfection.

Still I am the orchid that will blossom but never flower, untouched by time.
In wintry silence the blooms will dry up and fall, nourish the soil where I took root.
I don’t need many things to survive but the ones I consider vital I shall always protect.

I hear the marching flood.
I still fear the black irate waters in my dreams.
But now, like that damned river, I found my sea.
This year the strand is nearer and someday I will return ashore.
Of steel will be my veins and pleasant I shall be no more.

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“There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.”
Ernest Hemingway

The first days of November are purity itself to me.
No false promises when daytime gets so much shorter.
The sun is only a disc of molten lava over the red mist.
Leaves draping a path of mud and dew and lush green grass in the place where my mind always is.
The below zero mornings when the sky is like spun glass and everything lies under a white sheet, gold light on the treetops climbing up the walls of my room.
The Search beneath the naked trees for the last ripe fruits, treasure of months behind us.
I love the smell of the woods, the burning hearth, the cup of tea fuming in my cold hands, the sound of the buzzards in search of prey, the silvery water spilling from the rock, sound of wilderness, soft moss silencing my boots, squirrels raiding nuts, my breath in clouds while walking the road of Old.
The wintry peaks so far yet so close in the crisp air.
Cold knows how to paint the hills and find me a moment in time worth to remember besides every line of all my many favorite books.
This is the time in the year where I look around and I don’t say a single thing.
Such is the power over me when winter comes: I find myself again.
This year of all my Years, is the sweeter so far.

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Yesterday night I completely rewired my 1920’s lamp…a marvelous way to spend three hours in complete relaxation seeing how well it was assembled…

Three hours because it was a visual and tactile pleasure.

All chromed, regulated with screws and gleaming metal lampshade in green.

I adore that thing so much…and now it’s going to last another 90 or so years…

This is happiness.

 

When stormy weather comes around it was made in heaven
When sunny skies break through behind the clouds
I wish it could last forever

Yes, it was plain to see
Yes, it was meant to be…
…written in the stars

To let me dangle at a cruel angle
Oh my feet don’t touch the floor
Sometimes you’re half in and then you’re half out
But you never close the door

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WRITER & HISTORIAN

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Avete presente quegli scomodi abiti vittoriani? Quelli con la gonna che strascica un po' per terra, gonfiata sul di dietro dalla tournure? Quelli con i corsetti strettissimi e i colletti alti che solleticano il collo? Ecco. Io non vorrei indossare altro.

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lamentesepolta

0, 1, 2, ecc. - si.tormento@gmail.com

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music, poetry, musings, photography and philosophy from a woman who found her way back home and wants you to come over for a hike and a cocktail.

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F. H. Hakansson - Writer

tuttoquestogiallo

Ventitrè estati, ventidue inverni. Immaginare storie. Scriverle con un lapis su pezzi di carta ingiallita. Scappare lontano. Viaggiare con la mente e con il cuore. Sognare una casina bianca e un giardino pieno di rose. Leggere un libro. Guardare il mare. Ascoltare in silenzio la voce dei propri pensieri. Affacciarsi su un balcone e guardare l'alba. Fotografare un istante e conservarlo gelosamente nel proprio cuore. Fumare una sigaretta su una vecchia sdraio verde mentre guardo le stelle. Immaginare qualcuno dall'altra parte del mondo. Colorare di giallo la mia vita. Giallo. Giallo, perchè è prima del rosso. Giallo, come un limone. Giallo, come la mia canzone. Giallo, perchè disturba. Giallo, come qualche miliardo di stelle.

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