Christopher Pratt
Elisabeth Jonkers
Torn from the bosom of my soul's repose,
And self-devoted to surrounding woes,
Oft o'er my solitary thoughts I brood -
(For passing crowds to me are solitude) 
Next to my own skin, her pearls. My mistress
bids me wear them, warm them, until evening
when I'll brush her hair. At six, I place them
round her cool, white throat. All day I think of her,
resting in the Yellow Room...
"...the natural, delicate, blue garland which binds the luminous,
shadowed brows of water-nymphs; while the iris, its swards
sweeping every way in regal profusion, stretched out over
agrimony and water-growing king-cups the lilied sceptres,
tattered glories of yellow and purple, of the kingdom of the lake."
Janet Hill
Alex Kanevsky
Michael Borremans
Kim Cogan
Adara Sánchez Anguiano
Dario Moschetta
...watch the soft blush seep through her skin
Like an indolent sigh...
Tsuguharu Foujita
'The Wrong Man'
Deepa Vekaria
title - Baudelaire
1. excerpt from a poem of Warren Hastings
2. excerpt from a poem of Carol Ann Duffy
3. Marcel Proust
4. line - Carol Ann Duffy
