As well as being a place to indulge my love of Hipstamatic and iPhone photos, this is a blog of images and words. Of little vignettes and quiet corners from a place in my head, a place I call The Moth House. Of significant, and also small, happenings there, the wanderings and musings and sad reveries of it's occupants, The Parted Lovers.


On the heels of the bitter winter that came and settled itself,
burrowing deep into the surrounding forest,
came a certainty, 
like a creeping ice that slowly spread through his chest,
that held him in a tightening vice, 
and that he longed so badly to ignore.

She would not be coming home.