The two of us and the double exposure.

And a note for me: enough with the trees! All you take pictures of are some bunch of trees.

Maybe I’m gonna make (yet) another blog only devoted to trees, their life-cycle and habits. It would obviously be more meaningful that this one.


Hello there Mr Spring. Can you hear me? Well I don’t think you can.

If you happen to read this message, please stop by my place as quickly as you can. Winter has become just sad these days: not the same season I felt in love with anyways. And I miss you. Trees are still naked like kids on the beach and I don’t like kids.

And I miss loving when it rains and when it feels like sky is bleeding romance.

In short, I’m losing my bloody piece of mind because of this anti-season.


Yes, I have a thing for branches – but especially those that look extra graphic. Like branches of a birch.

But these days we better put them in a vase and wait for them to open.


Willow trees might look a bit sad, but sometimes it fits to the picture.


I’m a frost lover. I think it should have it’s own soundtrack. And last.fm account. :)


again, same tree but different autumn.


Still feel dizzy after 3450 pageviews per day. Never thought my humble effort to capture moments of little lives around me will be noticed. Yet they have been. Along with many autumn lovers, photography lovers, tea lovers, book lovers and other people who just like to celebrate life with me that came to visit my place. Thank you very much for making me happy with all the good comments. Thanks for taking a peek into my worldview, sharing my cup of tea and just enjoying a moment.Like looking up to the sky though the trees and realizing that can be beautiful too.


over the fence

The branch is illegally captured over the fence from our neighbours garden.  It looks lonely and maybe a bit sad. But nice, right?


is the autumn blue or yellow? Or maybe it’s yellow but bringing us the blues.

autumn is my season. season of hurricanes, falling leaves and walking in parks.


rain again

Some of the most beautiful summer romances are wet. The guys who invented the impressionism knew it. I agree with them. Even if your feet are wet, if you listen carefully to the rain and have a little conversation, or maybe read a poem for the rain, you will be just fine.


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