Wicked Clouds, Victoria BC Inner Harbor

Rolling wave looks metallic in sunlight

Waves crash against mossy rocks

Who knows what lies beyond the gate?

A dark beautiful rose for my dark beautiful sister

Yes, I can see in color. For Tia.

Canada Geese wishing you a Happy Birthday sis!

Beach day today in honor of Tia's 20th birthday

Sun through the trees. Ross Bay Cemetery Victoria BC

A rose is a rose...

Rocky beach in Victoria BC

Best bud in my 'hood

I like it best in Black & White

Driftwood Victoria BC beach

Seedling

Pretty Spring Planters

Kinda like an old Horror Movie ;)

Spooky Gargoyle in my 'hood

Organic fruit & veggies in Fernwood Square

Fernwood Square. Center of my Village

Spooky by night

Beautiful Castle in Victoria BC

Tales of the Crypt

Atonement

Hanging Out

1911 House in Fernwood, Victoria BC

Springtime in Victoria BC is filled with Japanese Cherry Trees

 

My new pet snake xxx Analiise xxx

Cell xxx Analiise xxx

Headstone 1 xxx Analiise xxx

Oddity xxx Analiise xxx

circa 1870 brick house xxx Analiise xxx

Sunny Day xxx Analiise xxx

Through the Crypt by xxx Analiise xxx

Craigdarroch Castle Victoria BC by xxx Analiise xxx

For my sister

Imagine if you will a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle. 

That puzzle is me. Made up of all different pieces.

Black, gray, burgundy, red, purple and azure. Shadows. 

Imagine if you will that this puzzle has been put together. Slowly, over time.

Pieces being placed to create the whole.

But there were some pieces missing. Right in the center. In the heart of the puzzle.

For years the puzzle lay incomplete. What is a puzzle with missing pieces? Worthless.

But then you came into my life.

Black, gray, burgundy, red, purple an azure. Shadows. 

And the pieces fit. 

The puzzle is complete.

Now it's not worthless any more.

It's not perfect, over the years a lot of the original pieces got scuffed, dirty and damaged, but there's no longer a big hole in the center.

Now, it can be called art.

Now it can be hung on the wall.

Don't take the pieces away. 

Or the whole thing will crumble and fall.

And be nothing more than fragments on the ground.

xxx Analiise xxx

xxx Analiise xxx

xxx Analiise xxx

Just FYI ... click on the photos to make them BIG. They look better that way ;)

xxx Analiise xxx

Sometimes when I need to think I go off to one of the islands around Victoria. No one lives there except for woodland creatures. It's a gift to be able to touch nature. I often forget how lucky I am to live in an area where I can be in the city one moment and after a short drive be in a place like this.

xxx Analiise xxx

xxxAnaliisexxx

xxxAnaliisexxx

Strength. Together, we have it.

Brides of the Devil

The Black Rose

A poem by the maiden Analiise

The Black Rose

Imagine a rose in a garden, an odd rose, a different rose, a rose that doesn’t quite belong in the garden of other roses, amidst the pinks, the yellows, the reds and the whites, is this rose, and it is…black.

People look at the black rose and sometimes are intrigued, sometimes offended, sometimes even captivated, but they aren’t really sure what to make of it - after all, it doesn’t really fit in with the other roses, it even smells different - kind of like incense and patcholi and exotic oils, not perfume-y and light like the other roses.

Some people try to change the black rose - they figure if they give it extra sun, or keep it totally out of the light, or put a box over top of it that it will change into a “normal” rose and then they can accept it. Some people figure that if they tell the rose that it is not normal that the rose will evolve into a more respectable colour - still a bit different, but not as odd as a black rose.

But the black rose can not change. It was made different, it did not ask to be this way, it just is.

So when people put it in the bright sun constantly and try and get it to lighten up, it just withers a bit. When they try and block all the light from it hoping that it will bend to their will, it dries up and becomes brittle. When they enclose it in a box hoping that it will somehow change it just wilts.

People who do not truly want black roses should not pick black roses. They should pick the pink, the yellow, the orange - the normal roses.

Black roses have very sharp thorns, but they also have spaces between the thorns large enough for a hand to fit without getting hurt. People who are not the right kind grab the black rose hastily without looking for the spaces between the thorns and they get hurt. They blame the black rose, saying that it is evil, nasty and vile. They try and strip off the thorns, damaging the rose.

Certain people look carefully at the black rose and see the spaces between the thorns, they see that it they take care they can touch the rose without any harm, that it is not an evil rose at all, they realize that the very sharp thorns are the rose’s protection, they do not try and remove the thorns, they leave them as they are, and grasp the rose where it is smooth and harmless.

These people, the rare and special people, who are in a way odd themselves for the very fact that they like the black rose just as it is, know how to care for it. They give it the right amount of light, the right amount of darkness, they tend it and care for it without crushing it, and they are never harmed by it - they have then in their possession a rose that thrives and gets stronger.

With the right kind of care the black rose begins to lose some of its thorns. Since the thorns are for protection, if there is nothing the rose needs to protect itself from not as many thorns are needed. The petals become richer in colour, the leaves glossier, the stem stronger.

And when the black rose is at it’s peak of health and beauty from the right kind of love, then it does not care anymore that it is different from the other roses. It doesn’t care that it is odd. Because it is loved for what it is. And that is all it ever wanted.