Delicate, profound, vague, obscure

I love my mystery, I love the abstract, fuyant world I live in as long as I don’t begin my work, the forcing out of delicate, profound, vague, obscure, voluptuously wordless sensations into something you can seize on–perhaps never.
- From a letter to Henry Miller by Anais Nin

[Helen Jane]

This is so delicate and present that I smelt a wiff of scent from those petals as I viewed them. Wonderful.

[CristinaL]

@helenhall Thank you!