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  • Wings

    Wings

    Wet sand clung to Merrin’s feet as he paced up the beach, the tide was finally on its way out and he could enjoy the… Read more.

  • Severed

    Severed

    Ryth’s ethereal form lounged against the stained glass windows. He fidgeted with the golden rings on his fingers, humming a tune that only Merrin could… Read more.

  • Carve

    Carve

    ‘I can’t fucking do it,’ Merrin hissed out as his hand trembled over Zane’s bared chest. There was something to be said about the irony… Read more.

Alphonse M. Mucha

I did not paint for kings, nor for galleries, but for
my people. This journal is a continuation of that work — an offering to eyes that still hunger for beauty.

The Author

“Ornament is not
excess, but remembrance of nature.”

— Alphonse Mucha

Essays

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