mynameisrebecca
Wandering
Franz Kafka is Dead
He died in a tree from which he wouldn’t come down. “Come down!” they cried to him. “Come down! Come down!” Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. “I can’t,” he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. “Why?” they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. “Because then you’ll stop asking for me.”
Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
The quote is completely irrelevant to the photo, I just love it.
I meant to do a whole series of these and sometime I will.
Second term of uni nearly complete.
Promise promise promise I'll do loads of photography over easter <3
Wandering
Franz Kafka is Dead
He died in a tree from which he wouldn’t come down. “Come down!” they cried to him. “Come down! Come down!” Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. “I can’t,” he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. “Why?” they cried. Stars spilled across the black sky. “Because then you’ll stop asking for me.”
Nicole Krauss, The History of Love
The quote is completely irrelevant to the photo, I just love it.
I meant to do a whole series of these and sometime I will.
Second term of uni nearly complete.
Promise promise promise I'll do loads of photography over easter <3