Don't worry,
be happy.

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad.
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain --
To thy high requiem become a sod.
— John Keats, "Ode to a Nightingale"

Welocome to my photograph homepage.

Dream of becoming a person who holds love of wisdom and beauty.