Autumnal Mood

21.10.202428.12.2025 Arvin da BrghaLeave a comment

Heron

Serigraph

13.25 x 34.50 Inches

Artist Proof

Provenance: The da Brgha Collection

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The first dream that I had of Merlin, occurred four years prior to meeting him in the waking state. In that dream, there was the most beautiful heron which flew close by; it blinked and when its lid reopened, the eye had become liquid eventually transforming to the most intense white light. Forty-two years ago, after a four-year wait, Merlin sexily slipped into my life at my Hell’s Kitchen walkup. For the next seven years our dance together was truly sublime.

**Heron at Cowichan Estuary, Vancouver Island, B.C.**

The last time I saw Joop, whom I had met five years prior to Merlin, I stayed at this lovely home in Victoria B. C. for a couple of weeks. We drove up the TransCanada Highway to the northern tip of the island one weekend, stopping off at the Cowichan Estuary and Cathedral Grove. On the drive back, we were followed by a lone heron as we drove southward through Cowichan Estuary a local nature preserve for herons. I was reminded of Merlin whilst holding hands with Joop. Joop was the oldest and most sensual of my lovers; too, he has been the oldest soul of my lovers. It was sad to say so long to him last summer.

van der Pelster, Joop 12/1948 <O> 8/2023

The fragment who was Joop was a fifth level old artisan – second incarnation at this level – in the observation mode, with a goal of stagnation, a pragmatist, in the emotional part of intellectual centre.

This fragment had a Saturn/Lunar body type.

Joop’s primary chief feature was stubbornness with a weak secondary of self-deprecation.

Joop is sixth cast in his cadence and his cadence is fourth in the second greater cadence. He is a member of entity one, cadre one, greater cadre 7, pod/node 414.

Joop has a discarnate artisan essence twin whom he did know in childhood and an incarnate priest task companion, with whom no plans were made to meet in this lifetime.

This was a resting life for this fragment, whose three primary needs were: security, communion and exchange.

He was a sculptor in Russia – at the time of the 1917 revolution, took a stand with the communists and was killed in a riot in St. Petersburg. He chose not to be reborn during the Second World War, in Western Europe, but in an old soul country (Netherlands), rather than a mixed young/mature society.

At that time, the Soviet government was very early-young soul repressive, while the general population was mid-cycle mature and even though he was only 30 when he died, in that previous life, he chose not to be reborn in the Soviet Union and took a resting life in the Netherlands.

Arvin felt a connectedness with Joop because they are in the same cadre, and Joop had a great deal of service in his casting as does Arvin. Here is a priest-cast artisan who is a member of an entity one, so he has needs to serve both the higher ideal and the common good.

There was a great deal of the “Visionary” here, which is one of the seven aspects of the artisan. He was also a “walker” in that he could pierce the veil between the planes at will, even though he did not call this phenomenon by name.

He and Arvin have known each other in many previous lives. They have been lovers of both sexes and of both hetero and homoerotic orientation. Joop has filled the mentor position in Arvin’s support group three times.

Perhaps the most notable life that this fragment had was in the late sixteenth century-early seventeenth century, when he was the Flemish portrait painter and depicter of religious themes, Anthony van Dyck. Anthony was later knighted and is known historically as, Sir Anthony van Dyck.

**Massacre of the Innocents, Oil on Canvas. Peter Paul Rubens 1611-1612**

He was a good friend, sometimes-lover and collaborator of Peter Paul Rubens – during that lifetime, I was then briefly a lover of Peter Paul Rubens, female and a muse; the relationship was not long-lived. Both of these men, Anthony and Paul, were bisexual and lusty and enjoyed the company of both men and women, even though they pretended to be very good Catholic boys.

Interestingly enough, the fragment who was Peter Paul was in the immediate past life, the imminent American photographer, Ansel Adams – same great artistic ability, different medium.

Joop did have great ability to make his lovers feel loved; this is something that generally goes along with the latter part of the old soul cycle.

They are no longer so concerned about their own sexual pleasure, mainly because it is easier for them and rather commonplace but they do generally enjoy bringing others to the heights of ecstasy.

Every mature soul should have a late old soul lover at least once, just as the opposite is true. The mature soul brings to the sex act the passion and the fire, while the very old soul brings to it the skill and patience of so many lives.

All told, Joop to date has had 18 past lives with Arvin and 12 with his task companion – who was recently – Merlin Ben-Daniel.

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Duke Ellington & John Coltrane: In a Sentimental Mood

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Cover Photo: Portrait of Cornelis van der Geest

Oil on canvas

1620 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: National Gallery, London UK

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Self-Portrait

Oil on Canvas

1640 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: National Portrait Gallery, London UK

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Massacre of the Innocents

Oil on Canvas

1611-1612 Sir Anthony van Dyck

Provenance: The Thomson Collection, Art Gallery of Ontario, Toronto.

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You are to Jazz what wings are to an ostrich; what the fuck do eagles care that queer, unaware ostriches have wings?

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Pilgrimage to Windsor… That Dress!

07.12.201831.12.2025 Arvin da Brgha1 Comment

Aerial view: Windsor Castle, Berkshire.

In the mad dash to board the train from King’s Cross/St. Pancras Station to Paddington Station, I boarded the wrong train and ended up losing almost of hour of valuable time. Nonetheless to Windsor with me, indeed.

The ride to Windsor was lovely and it was still well before before 1000 when I got into town. So nice to know that a flash of the London Pass gets one into the Castle, plus to see the exhibition of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex’s wedding finery plus the outfits worn by pageboy, HRH Prince George of Cambridge and the always ‘on’ HRH Princess Charlotte of Cambridge.

Next, through the hurdle of being scoured by the most thorough security detail; and with good reason too.

The mélange of Chinese, Japanese and Korean dialects made for an interesting symphony of sounds as I made my way past security and onto castle grounds.

I am reminded of Vancouver Island by the hearty vegetation down below.

Nothing is more refreshing than the smell of moss in cooler weather. The air is so fresh here in Berkshire.

The view from the Middle Ward down to St. George’s Chapel; but that’ll come after touring the castle’s state apartments.

The glorious view north across the River Thames to Eton College Chapel… Nothing beats being out on the terrace and looking out to the landscape below.

The view along the terrace towards the entrance to the castle.

Once inside, of course, photography is not allowed. This, understandably, is for security reasons; it is after all the Sovereign’s main residence. Formidable, an entrance indeed. Touring the state apartments, the progression’s starting point was different to previous visits.

Without doubt, I knew that the wedding outfits worn by TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex would not be on display in the castle’s Green Drawing Room; there is only one door into said room for the public and the other at the opposite end, leads directly into the Sovereign’s private apartments.

Furthermore, that single door is too narrow to accommodate persons going and coming into the Green Drawing Room, if they were to enter and exit by said door.

Similarly, I knew that the exhibition, A Royal Wedding: The Duke and Duchess of Sussex could not have been held in St. George’s Hall above. There is simply too much natural light which floods the space; this could actually prove more harm than good – even though it would be best to see the dress in natural light. Moreover, I did not expect that it would be held there as the space is too large and, frankly, with the amount of racially charged animus towards this marriage, it would likely not draw as large a crowd to warrant being staged there. Truth be told, there were no Caucasians viewing the exhibit when I moved through it, than there were East Asian and blacks combined.

I will never forget my confusion on first experiencing The Waterloo Chamber in this lifetime. I just felt as though, perhaps, my sense that I had been to Windsor Castle in prior lives or a lifetime was off. Of course, I would learn that this marvellous salon was installed during HM King George IV’s reign, at which time, I had reincarnated into Barbados, after having been a countertenor at the court of HM King George III and during the early years of his son’s Regency.

Then again, those high-placed windows in the Waterloo Chamber would preclude its assignation as the setting for the exhibition, A Royal Wedding: The Duke and Duchess of Sussex.

Though noted for its stunning portraits of both HM Queen Elizabeth, The Queen Mother and HM King George VI, this room much like St. George’s Hall has too much light exposure.

On entering the long narrow hallway with large windows that look out onto the terrace, the River Thames and the north shore beyond, one happens on a wall of linen panels which cover the floor to ceiling cabinets with priceless china from the Royal Collection.

Imagine all these iconic moments from the wedding of TRH Duke & Duchess of Sussex on hanging linen panels of more than 8 or more feet tall. The effect is warm, enveloping and their size deftly impress on one, the uneclipsed love between these two star-crossed lovers.

Next, into the grandeur of the Grand Reception Room one slips and with the heavy red curtains drawn, the effect is even more stunning. The large chandeliers are softly dimmed and handsomely display the bridal garments of the wedding party.

The embroidery on HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex’s uniform, to the Queen Mary Diamond Bandeau tiara when seen in intimate detail proved more breathtaking than I had anticipated. Goodness, even the shoes worn by Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex were exquisite.

What I found most interesting about the dress was its sheer simplicity. The dress serves as a foil for the intricacy of the five metre veil entwined with the fifty-three flowers of the Commonwealth nations, along with the state flower for Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex’s home state of California. Not until in the presence of the dress did its simplicity make sense; the dress is masterfully constructed such that its simplicity reminds one that only the expert craftsmanship of a couturier could have designed and manufactured the dress.

Yet, there was more to the simplicity of this Clare Waight Keller dress for Givenchy and it was not until moving around it a second time that it struck me; the simplicity of the dress speaks to the recent past of Ms. Markle’s African heritage. Its simplicity speaks of the history of a people which was erased, wiped out by the terror of having been robbed and enslaved.

Yet like the simplicity which belies the masterful craftsmanship of the couturiers who created this stunning dress, there is also greatness to a people though reviled, socio-economically oppressed, criminalised, marginalised and made to feel inferior… the same people whose greatness shrines through in Jazz, for one. Remarkably, the simplicity of the dress, is like the sheer eloquence with which HRH Prince Charles, Prince of Wales sincerely both acknowledged and apologised for the past, which his society and family had contributed to in the immense suffering of Africans; this he did this past autumn when touring West Africa on behalf of HM The Queen.

This was not only not a heavily attended exhibition but, at the time that I moved through it, there was not a single Caucasian viewing the wedding garments. Though many would like to have you believe that there is no basis in race why they dislike Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex, that is just a damn lie. Naturally, neither medicine nor academia acknowledges the existence of the racial predator as ‘No’ is the most powerful word when dealing with blacks. Indeed, not until going to St. George’s Chapel after the tour of the castle was concluded, did one see Caucasians in numbers that reflect their proportions in the society. Indeed, unlike previously, one was being fixed with looks that were charged with racial animus.

Though she is now the most reviled black woman on the planet, truth is that the soul who is now Meghan, HRH Duchess of Sussex was Margaret Beaufort, Tudor Matriarch: key figure in the War of the Roses, cousin of HM King Henry VI, mother of HM King Henry VII, mentor, counsel and favourite of her grandson, HM King Henry VIII who was much impressed by her focussed untrammelled ambition, great-grandmother of HM Queen Elizabeth I.

Without her drive and singleness of purpose, England may still be a Catholic nation and its language may well be French. Nonetheless, such is the rabid, irrational tribalism that is racism; her true nature cannot be perceived by the blind who can never see either the links to the past or the bigger picture.

In the end, I was much inspired for having made this pilgrimage to see this dress, which in its simplicity symbolised hope, atonement and the love of two entity mates who have known each other in twenty prior lifetimes. The simplicity of this dress proved an epiphany.

Statue of HM King Charles II without whose drive, there would have been no Restoration.

View of the round tower on exiting the State Apartments and at the edge of the Quadrangle.

Details of St. George’s Chapel.

Details… and more details.

Even more interesting details…

Sadly, photography is not allowed inside the chapel.

Despite the general seething that being black elicited from most persons here – thanks to HRH Prince Henry, Duke of Sussex having married the black woman, I rather enjoyed revisiting the spiritual home of the Knights of the Garter. There is a certain warmth and intimacy to the quire’s dark woods that I favour.

And like that, another day of adventure was completed.

As the train sped back to London, I spotted this queer, though, appealing architectural gem.

As ever, thanks so much for your ongoing support and always remember to become awake when asleep into the magical realm of dreams.

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Prosecuting the Past whilst at the Deathscape.

14.08.201602.01.2026 Arvin da Brgha1 Comment

Since having shared these dreams two years ago, I have been corrected by an authentic Michael Channeller as to Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis’ true role in essence; she is a young soul sage rather than young soul king – her first husband, John F. Kennedy was a young soul king and he was reborn to an aristocratic family in France and I do believe reborn male. Contrary to the word on the faux-Michael ether, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis – whom I encountered one glorious summer afternoon in 1983 after ballet class at Harkness House with David Peregrine and his lovely sweetheart and former classmate, Jackie Sloane – who both perished in the Canadian Rockies when he piloted some years later in 1989, Ms. Kennedy Onassis vibrationally seemed every bit the king soul. Alas, that may well have been her well-fortified social persona and false personality then experienced. Of course, it was at Harkness House where Rebekah Harkness’ cremains perpetually rotated in a golden urn designed by master surrealist himself, Salvador Dali.

Since these dreams were shared, I have elected to have channelled the overleaves of the following persons: Salvador Dali and Maria Callas. Too, I am adding here, Frederick Hinneault’s overleaves, though, they have been previously shared in this blog. Frederick was a the most glorious Cree feather dancer who introduced me to the world of powwows in June 1994. I met Frederick after having had the most lucidly awakened flying dream to a past-life whereat I witnessed a young shaman coming of age during initiation ceremonies. Well, you can just bet that after so high a spiritual dream experience, I chose to do no such thing as time-waste in the presence of dense-energied, somnambulant and decidedly spiritually unsophisticated coworkers. So off I went to Club Vancouver bathhouse on West Pender Street where there I met the genuine article, Frederick. After having made a sweat lodge of his tiny room, we spent the rest of the summer holding hands and travelling about B.C. Alberta and Washington. Firstly, though, he took me to a lookout point high above the Cypress Bowl lookout where in a bath of cloud-untrammelled sunlight, we laid naked side by side in the long grass, holding hands and he got out his whistle that called a majestic eagle; this was one of the most magical experiences of this incarnation.

Frederick, at the time, was full blown with AIDS. What was most revolutionary was being in the company of two-spirits. This was the first time being in the company of Gays who were not possessed of racially predatory animus. That first weekend, just past 1994’s summer solstice was my true arrival and connection with Canada and what she represents. I finally felt no longer as an outsider. I will always have the greatest respect for all First Nations peoples from Baffin Island to Patagonia.

These were truly operatic dreams, drink anew of my chalice and may you, satiated and inspired, slip into lucidly awakened dreamquests of your own. You’ve a wealth of knowledge and beauty which passively lie awaiting your inner focus deep within the aqueous folds of self.

Sweet dreams you… ever, we will be kindred spirits – you and me – sharing this magical quest of self-discovery, self-actualisation and self-empowerment. I am honoured by your continued support and for that, I love you more! (August 2016)

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These next dreams occurred two days apart and dealt with the same individual. I have recently written of her and shared a dream of her, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. At the time of these dreams, which are currently being chronologically transcribed, Mrs. Kennedy Onassis was a recent astral plane habituée.

As such, these dreams – and the last in particular – vicariously gave insights to her deathscape on becoming an arrivée astral plane habituée. I dream it, I share it and pass no judgment on either self or the subject(s) of any dream ever had.

As with all astral plane-focussed dreams, these were rather intense experiences. Especially so was the fourth and final dream of the second day of dreams shared herein.

The first dream was the only dream that day and it sets the mood for the nature of the second dream to come of Mrs. Kennedy-Onassis. That dream occurred two days later and was more thorough and insightful. At the time of the first dream, it was Saturday, July 9, 1994 and the Moon then transited both Cancer and my second house.

Two days later, Monday, July 11, 1994, there were four dreams and as on the July 9, 1994, the fourth and final dream that day focussed on the deathscape for the arrivée astral plane habituée, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. As is her wont, Luna had beguilingly slipped from Cancer to Leo and correspondingly from my second to third houses.

The final was an intensely volatile dream that was all about emotionality and karmic dross. Having passed near two months earlier, though I was not much-focussed on her life in the waking state, it is not surprising that one would vicariously tune in to the deathscape goings-on of one the century’s most iconic figures, Jacqueline Kennedy-Onassis.

Sweet dreams as ever. Rather than the standard one photograph per dream entry to this blog, the break between both days’ dreams will be a second photograph.

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I was, in this the first dream, in a park like New York City’s Central Park with Pandora da Braga on my right. From across the vast plain came a large steed from a low, heavy mist atop a knoll.

Here the light was rather diffused and potent. The horse was a possessed powerful creature. Rapt in focussed canter, it barrelled across the green grass towards us.

Atop it rode a large-boned woman who was a fierce warrior-spirited individual. She turned out, no less, to have been Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.

She rode in traditional riding gear: black cap, white riding breeches and black riding boots, all of which was topped off by a red riding jacket. Her gloves were short and made of thick black leather.

This woman was arrestingly powerful.

Pandora and I were stunned into silence. All the shrubs wore various-sized beautiful white blooms that simply zinged with life.

All was ordered and serene here and it clearly was a reflection of this woman’s afterlife passage – the deathscape. The Earth simply quaked beneath the power and grandeur of both she and the steed.

I mentioned to Pandora, after she had ridden past, that I had seen her, back in the early 1980s, on two occasions in the Manhattan. She was, to be sure, a very robust, dominance-goaled kind of person.

Hers was a very powerful warrior-energied complex.

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Whilst speaking with a man, in this the first dream, I assured him that I could never bed Aaron Wookay because of his pheromones – body odour.

I do believe that it was, in fact, Aaron Wookay with whom I had been speaking at the time and made the slip of saying what I had. There was certainly a glaringly pregnant pause at the end of it all.

As we spoke, in the middle of the late-afternoon street, a very tall warrior-spirited Karl Weller walked past with a guy on his left. He was dressed all in black clothes and as I sped up after him, I said aloud to my companion,

“Now there is a man that I could bed…”

I intimated that I had already had an encounter with him in the waking state. This was in fact true. I then got him into a black limousine and together we headed for my place.

En route there, at night time, we stopped outside a Dairy Queen. The store was tiny and right at the corner of one of the city’s intersections. Getting out, on the left side of the car, I went inside where I ordered large slices of a white cheesecake with soft ice cream.

When I returned to the limousine, he was immediately in bed lying on his back on some blankets. He took a bite of the food and, at that point, I began groaning.

His entire body then lapsed into an adrenalin quake as he had his first all-out experience. He was full of nerves and caution. Wanting to leave, Karl Weller then hurriedly got up; I was quite disappointed.

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In this the second dream, Isha da Braga insisted that I deposit some cash – 10$ or 12$ – into her account because I had owed her as much. I was really pissed off because I knew that I had already paid her whatever monies that I had owed her.

En route to the bank, I stopped off at her condo to which I had a pair of keys. Slowly, I stirred the pot of stew that she had started before heading to work. The stew simmered on a low fire.

Soon, I encountered Pandora da Braga who also needed cash. I then became an issue of how to move around cash, via cheques, from one or more of my little-funded accounts to get to float until the next payday.

With that, I headed off to the bank to begin my unscrupulous activity.

*This is something that I have never attempted and would never think to attempt in the waking state. Why? END.

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Soon, in this the third dream, I got sidetracked. I went off and had a hot encounter with a guy whom I now think was Frederick Hinneault. We were, in an old building, writhing away on a table.

Splayed and utterly contorted, we were going at each other like there was no tomorrow. Too, it was also hard to tell just who was fucking whom.

A tall Black security guard, whilst on duty, happened on us. Pretty soon, he interrupted us and joined in when he oughtn’t to have done so. He took off his thick, brown leather belt and began beating me with it.

I was truly incensed and let him know that I could damn well file suit against him for having struck me. After all, it was not a part of his duties to have done so.

He was surprised at my response. Seemingly, he was a novice in his crisp, brand new khaki uniform and hat. He was rather handsome a fellow. Nonetheless, I was still upset with him.

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I would, whilst focussed in this the fourth dream, have an encounter with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. At the time, I was going along a corridor in a palatial residence. Seemingly, this was an eighteenth century château.

Whilst she was dressed in clothing that was late 1950s-60s, A-line conservative and nothing flashy, I walked after Mrs. Kennedy-Onassis. There were several other persons about. Impatient, she was not at all in a very good mood.

Rushing back, I went to the off-white blue hallways to the other wing. We were two to three storeys aboveground. There, I saw a dark-haired, strong-featured woman and intuitively knew her to be Maria Callas.

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Maria Callas were in the midst of a nasty feud. Conversely, it turned out that to get her attention I would have to quickly act.

Pulling out a shotgun, I shot into the ceiling in order to wrestle her attention. The gunfire stunned Maria Callas; at that point, I then bolted and went back to be with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis.

Coming to her aid, I held Mrs. Kennedy-Onassis by the forearms as she was slumped in a chair. She had been truly traumatised by the gunshot going off so close to her.

In light of what she had endured on November 22, 1963, in Dallas, Texas, her reaction was not surprising. This soon served as a glimpse into who had really killed whom.

From what I learnt here, it turned out that not only did Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis get rid of Christina Onassis and Marilyn Monroe, she also used occult means to get rid of Maria Callas by way of literally bewitching Aristotle Onassis.

I was being told this by a voice which I heard speaking to me. Interestingly enough, the voice sounded like a gruffer version of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis’s famous breathy register.

This insight was all being telepathically shared with me. However, this house was definitely on the astral plane in which Maria Callas was confronting Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. As it were, both astral plane habitués were prosecuting their relations in their respective immediate past lives.

There was no getting around the fact that Maria Callas had the upper hand here. There was a sense that, try as she might, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis simply could not get out of this confrontational drama; it was, as it were, fated based on who owed whom karma.

Maria Callas was truly operatic. Not the kind of person that one would want to have as a foe was she. For having predeceased Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis as well as Aristotle Onassis, there seemingly was much that she knew of what really happened whilst she was alive.

This woman, Maria Callas, was truly operatic. Her rage was such that she seemed to create an emotional tornado. Even when she spoke, her voice operatically boomed.

This was drama that was supra-Wagnerian. The palatial, soothing blue-interiored dwelling’s walls violently quaked as Maria Callas fumed and berated Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis from her wing of the château.

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis looked extremely spent, haggard and aged; she had been completely vanquished by Maria Callas’ rage. If these karmic debts had really been incurred by Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, it then stands to reason that on reflecting on her just-concluded life, there would be some degree of remorse and inner pain as part of her deathscape on becoming an arrivée astral plane habituée.

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was deeply troubled here. Though she was every bit the lady in her own right, for having been wronged, there was a great impactful power that Maria Callas exhibited for having been wronged.

The whole affair had karmically left her completely in a funk. All of these done-in women were strong-willed individuals who had, in some way, posed a threat to her sense of self.

Not only did she not suffer fools gladly but from the evidence here, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis did not suffer threats to her power in any way. Once so threatened, her only response was shrewd and calculating.

They were simply removed from the environment – struck down. For Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, with a Scorpio rising, it was all too possible that this sort of tactic would have been deemed a viable and appropriate response to such a threat.

Here in the dreamtime, for being alone with her, I came to understand what would have motivated her to have taken such actions. This was the only way to stake her claim on history and not just near history but millennial history.

At all costs, a statuesque stalwart of power and regal dignity, she had to survive to the end. To have been respectively displaced or denied by Marilyn Monroe or Maria Callas would have eclipsed her and made her but a footnote in history.

This is how she saw it. Christina Onassis did nothing but try to have her displaced and dishonoured by way of a divorce; this, too, could not be suffered. She won. In all things, she won.

As that dream on July 9, 1994 attested, she was the born warrior-spirited leader who was never felled in battle. Victorious to the end was ever her approach.

Indeed, coming through the mist of time, Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis will transcend Time for several millennial as one of the most pre-eminent leaders of the 20^th century and not merely just an iconic woman.

Into the future and legend she will forever ride a valiant steed, though a dark one, a figure of power, strength and dignity. Indeed, a bloody-talonned warrior this one.

Leaving her, I went running back through the halls saying that I had to get to the ministerial offices. I wanted to get there at once, in order that the records may historically be set straight.

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Photo credits: Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis fox hunting in Virginia.

Opera diva, Maria Callas.

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Dreams are the poetic expression of the soul.

Tag: History

Autumnal Mood

Pilgrimage to Windsor… That Dress!

Prosecuting the Past whilst at the Deathscape.