Book Aesthetic Picture Novels & Stories

Sure, he's abrasive, but I don't think he's that bad. I look at the blank canvas before me. Paints at the ready. I look around my little corner at the beautiful landscapes, the portraits of random people. These pictures are the expressions of my heart. I find comfort in them. My eyes scan the portraits one by one, trying to find inspiration, when my eye travels to a corner I rarely venture to look at.

She advanced the presentation, and the two pictures were replaced with one. My breath caught in my throat. I was now staring at a picture Lisa's thong-clad a*s. It was framed perfectly in the center of the picture, clearly taken in my girlfriend's bathroom. It was evident that she took her time with this image, making sure her butt was being shown off perfectly. And it was. The cheeks were firm and round, standing out clearly from her slim body. Each of them were just perfectly shaped, round, and smooth and firm. Her skin was evenly tanned, the smooth, silky flesh of her ass making it look even better. The creases between her a*s and her legs were almost artfully smooth. The way her butt eme

Ace explained. I could tell from the outline that the image printed on the paper showed the exact same room that we were looking at. The minimal decoration highlighted with some colors added life and creativity to the space. I couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to work in a space like that, especially if they worked on the creative side of things. “Wow! This looks amazing. I can actually picture that being here,” I replied honestly.

A few props are scattered around the space, but they are minimal and unobtrusive. The only real decoration in the room is the photographs hanging on the walls. They are an eclectic mix of portraits, landscapes, and abstract art, but they all share a certain quality that ties them together. Each image is perfectly composed, with an eye for detail and a sense of balance that is hard to achieve. As I move around the room, examining the photos, I am struck by the sense of order and control that permeates the space. Shane has created a sanctuary, a place where he can create and focus without distractions.

"Cooperation is always easier." I sat at the desk and looked at the screen. He showed me images, shapes and pictures of faces. "What do you see in this image?" "A butterfly." "And this one?" "Two people fighting." "This one?" I looked at the picture. It was an abstract painting with colors bleeding into each other. "Beautiful chaos," I said. "The kind that makes sense even though it shouldn't." Dr. Park took notes. "Interesting. You see beauty in disorder." Then he showed me a photograph of a little girl maybe three years old with dark hair and a big smile.

Steven’s point of view: I take my MacBook to the sitting room, so I have been trying to take some nice pictures of my wife with my phone, because my really nice manager says I should take unknown pictures of her and post on my social media, asides lying to the media and saying how important my wedding day was I think at this moment I have to go normal on it, so she is lying face up and in a deep sleep, but I have to say, she still looks so beautiful, and it makes me feel so lucky, like I can’t even breathe whenever I see this, I mean, how can someone be so so beautiful, its like she doesn’t even try to, after the mini edit I upload it to my I*******m and twitter account myself, in quote, “my

Too good. I’m not sure how I missed all of this last night, but if I’m being honest, the explanation probably involves the most dangerous mouth I’ve ever trusted with my dick. Or his ass. One of the two. The ugly yellow-and-blue floral wallpaper is still here, which surprises me. I doubt Alessia would approve. But the art Jesus. The art changes everything. The hallway is lined with photographs. Large. Moody. Men and women suspended underwater, naked or nearly so, wrapped in flesh-toned silk that coils around them like secrets. Each piece feels intimate. Personal. Like something you’re not meant to look at for too long.

The man peeped at some of the photographs of similar-looking landscape portraits in his phone gallery. "I think the beauty of this kind of art is that it is hardly about where you put it but how you look at it. Look at this one I showed you just now. It's the first thing I see in the mornings. You know that feeling of reading a really good story or poem, or better yet, after having really good sex." "Inner peace," Adrian whispered and smiled. "Like blue-remembered hills." The man asked with a knowing expression. "Yeah, yes, exactly like Blue Remembered Hills." Adrian concurred with a nod.

“Did you ask Kyle?” “Absolutely not.” I narrowed my eyes. “You didn’t even try?” “He’s in presentation mode. It’s terrifying.” “Mm-hmm.” I sat up straighter, now squinting at the screen. “Alright. Show me.” He rotated his camera between two paintings: one a moody, chaotic abstract, the other a calming landscape. “That one.” I pointed at the landscape. “Neutral. Calming. Works in a study or reading corner. Won’t upset the flow.”

My words really got to him. The doors opened as I took in the environment once again. The colour was very similar to the gate's colour. The real difference was that the butter dominated the maroon inside. We got to the main parlour. The whole place was fully decorated. Abigail really did a great job. I loved the way the violet coloured sofa blended so well with the white coloured wall. The artworks she hanged on the wall were mesmerizing. I found myself feeling the painting with the tips of my fingers. The house was a duplex. The silver plates stair rims was shimmering. She did a great job.