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Dukes Pass, Trossachs, Scotland

Dukes Pass, Trossachs, Scotland

Hey guys! I hope your all having an awesome day! If your wondering what the pens are called that I used for this drawing they are Sakura gelly roll pens! a lot of people ask about them I hope you guys like this doodle and thank you so much for 70k! #zentangle#gellyroll#pens

Hey guys! I hope your all having an awesome day! If your wondering what the pens are called that I used for this drawing they are Sakura gelly roll pens! a lot of people ask about them I hope you guys like this doodle and thank you so much for 70k! #zentangle#gellyroll#pens

Schrijfgelukjes: Niet opnieuw maar voor het eerst echt trouw(en)

Schrijfgelukjes: Niet opnieuw maar voor het eerst echt trouw(en)

Consulta esta foto de Instagram de @joflowers • 967 Me gusta

Consulta esta foto de Instagram de @joflowers • 967 Me gusta

PIN ME AT JLOUISUZIE Instagram Photography Fotografia Fotos Photo Foto Inspiration

PIN ME AT JLOUISUZIE Instagram Photography Fotografia Fotos Photo Foto Inspiration

☼☾ @dormsforgators

☼☾ @dormsforgators

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ourlifeintransit: Fireside - there’s no place quite like it.

ourlifeintransit: Fireside - there’s no place quite like it.

CLOUDS

CLOUDS

"People come to me on waves of memory, but all of them are ghosts. The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide that bears me back eternally into the past, back to the place where I was born. My mother took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea. The thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the breaking rhythm never ceasing. My mother waited until we were out of sight of land. She waited to tell me the secret." -- from the novel Sinful Folk

"People come to me on waves of memory, but all of them are ghosts. The sound of a distant ocean covers me with surf, that tide that bears me back eternally into the past, back to the place where I was born. My mother took me out in our little fishing boat, out on the open water of the sea. The thrum and hiss of surf upon the shore behind us, the breaking rhythm never ceasing. My mother waited until we were out of sight of land. She waited to tell me the secret." -- from the novel Sinful Folk