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Pencil nymphs and goddesses

wITHOUT IT

wITHOUT IT i wouldn't be me. 

I cannot see into the future, nor can I predict the outcome of my actions.
I can tread carefully through the misty waters but will I truly live if I do? How can
I compete with the thoughts in my head - the ones snaking around the monotony of daily life.
They are screaming at me - they are telling me to have fun.

Without Words

Without words I would hum.
Without words I would stop. 

To remember

Two examples of previous photography work of mine.

Kablammy

Fireworks - people - smoke  An eeriness you'd expect from a Turner painting.

The angel is thin, you could imagine her on the front cover of a trashy magazine, her shoulder blades sticking out of her skin as she discusses her colourful past and how rehab has finally sorted her out. The wings are scratched and untidy. She cltuches her hand to her chest for protection. She isn't a fallen angel, just misunderstood and vulnerable, I think she is winking at me?