And lo, the God Child did turn his gaze upward, his neck craning, turning, rotating – the sound of dry twigs snapping, leathery skin pulled taunt around an unnatural, boney fulcrum — one rotation, two, three. A wheezing, short breath. Then nothing.
No care in the world
♥ ♥ ♥
i googled rad cat and i was not disappointed
The Love Letter. Carl Herpfer (German,1836-1897). Oil on canvas.
Perhaps all is not right with the contents of the letter. The interior, though elegant, has a gloomy feel with dark draperies and furniture. Flowers are beginning to droop. The letter, held out by the lady, has been read and looks to be headed for the fire. Fingers held to mouth, there is no joy in the lady’s countenance.