paper crowns

pretty things for friday.

Here's a little collection of beautiful images and things and places that have caught my eye lately. Some imagery is reminiscent of summer, and some of fall, as I find myself caught between wanting to hold onto one and being ready for the other.

wild + free.

Sparkly gold + rich navy + cream. Full of texture and depth.

This German summer home. I can't imagine a more perfect place to spend lazy August days.

That's just about it.

 

This beautiful photo. The graininess just makes it.

This beautiful tote, by Anabela at Fieldguided. The perfect hint of blush pink.

Probably the prettiest dining room I've ever seen. The black and white, anchored by that beautiful rug. Just the right blend of curved and straight lines. Hardness and softness.

Dreamy and misty and what I imagine to be the perfect September day.

Just look at these sweet little guys. Absoluting melting.

can't.

One of the most hauntingly beautiful images I've seen in a long, long time.

Have a wonderful weekend :)

images: one // two // three // four // five // six // seven // eight // nine // ten // eleven

brights.

We have a huge slate wall in downtown Charlottesville. They call it the Free Speech Wall. People draw pictures and write political messages and leave notes to loved ones. Then the rain comes and washes it all away and it's a blank canvas again, ready to be filled with bright expressions of joy or silliness, or sprawling works of art. There aren't any limits to what you can write. Anything goes. Nothing is censored. Every place should have one of these walls I think. It's a beautiful, bright, uplifting thing.

a poem.

Try to praise the mutilated world. Remember June’s long days, and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew. The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles. You must praise the mutilated world. You watched the stylish yachts and ships; one of them had a long trip ahead of it, while salty oblivion awaited others. You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere, you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully. You should praise the mutilated world. Remember the moments when we were together in a white room and the curtain fluttered. Return in thought to the concert where music flared. You gathered acorns in the park in autumn and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars. Praise the mutilated world and the gray feather a thrush lost, and the gentle light that strays and vanishes and returns. —Adam Zagajewski.

I came across this poem this morning. It was originally published in The New Yorker on September 24, 2001 and meant a lot of things to many people in the weeks and months and years following 9/11. It stuck with me today. Beautiful, hopeful words that will never make tragedy any easier but that serve as a beacon of light. 

Maybe it'll mean something to you too.

image found here.