Wall Art Of Books Novels & Stories

Ace explained before he grinned at me. I knew immediately that he was being absolutely sarcastic especially when he spoke about the books that lined the shelves. His collection of books related to our field of work, art, and creativity, seemed very exhaustive and included some rare books that were hard to get in hardcover as well. I stood in front of the bookshelf as I admired it. “These books are amazing. I should steal some of them sometimes…” I said with a laugh. “Please do…” he replied casually. “Which one would you recommend?” I asked.

It spotted a large black mark, as if something so strong had hit that side of the wall. Maybe that was the impact of the attack. But what exactly was it? Beside the same mark was a drawer, I opened it and it was a book full of drawings. From what I knew, she said wasn't schooled like most of us were , so how exactly could she read and write and draw? The book had disturbing images of wolves ,way bigger than normal ,their color, rare and emanating a certain aura of energy. I decided to keep it. I need answers , and I will surely get it.

A picture of a wolf stared right back at her. Intricately drawn, almost just like the mural of a wolf in the sitting room. It's eyes deep and almost staring right through her. Another book about wolves? Hazel remembered the book she had picked from the library not long before. It was also a book on wolves was it not. The Wolf Within it was called. She had barely bothered to read much about it. But seeing this book too was on wolves. Should that not play any significance?

The dresser had a matching vanity table with a large mirror, flanked by two delicate golden lamps. In the corner of the room, there was a cosy armchair with a soft, plush cushion, perfect for lounging and reading a book. Next to it, a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with books I had never seen before. I walked over to the bookshelf, my eyes scanning each title with interest. The walls were painted a soft lavender colour, and on one of them hung a stunning piece of art that immediately drew my attention. It was a large canvas painting of a peaceful forest, with vibrant greens and browns that made me feel like I was standing in the middle of the woods.

There are gossamer white waterfall curtains framing the beautiful sight of the city. The artwork on the walls are too familiar. The black and white noir photography I gushed about when we were together by photographers that I dragged him along to see their exhibits and galleries adorn the wall. There's a vintage secretary desk by a wooden bookcase. I don't even have to read the titles to know I'd love each and every book there. My eyes snap to his in question and confusion. There's so much emotion in his eyes. He opens his mouth to answer my silent questions in mine, but we both remain uncharacteristically quiet.

Well, she seems to forget that in case I get killed in my sleep, we both die. I strolled to each section of the library but there is a particular section that seem different. The books are few as I glance around. Few shelves with neatly packed books, mostly with animal pictures as I stared but my eyes didn't fail to notice the paintings hanging on the wall. They seem to come alive with the way they stared back, threatening to tear me apart at any sign of aggression.

Yam sliced it open slowly, hands trembling. Inside was their book. “The Art of Staying.” Cover: a sunflower. A crooked shelf. Two mugs—one chipped. And behind it all, the suggestion of a fan, mid-spin. Franc stared at it like it might whisper back. “Feels unreal,” Yam said. Franc flipped through pages. Some with artwork. Others with Yam’s poetry. Their story—wired beginnings and all—now bound in matte finish. “I think this book breathes,” Franc said.

and that’s a phrase I didn’t think I’d say! We walked into the bedroom, it was quite cramped, most of the space taken up by the bed, but there was enough room for us to walk down the edge of the bed. The walls were a silvery gray shade, but on one wall was a large mural painted of a forest scene, the detailing on it was amazing, and a wolf sat howling to the moon. Gabe hadn’t exaggerated when he said it was amazing, I couldn’t believe Lilah had done this, and Indie said she didn’t think she was good at art?!

Annabeth stands back to admire her handiwork, and I can’t help but clap my hands like a kid. With the addition of each work of art, the walls have come to life, the different shades of grey providing the perfect foil for the bright drawings and paintings. Next to each frame is a white card with the name of the artist and title of the artwork, along with a brief description and a price.

he looked around, “You’d be surprised by the amount of people that actually come here to read.” “It seems so peaceful, Asher. It’s huge and…and beautiful,” I observed the ceiling with lighted chandeliers hanging down. The walls showed paintings of wolves and men. My eyes wandered to this one huge wall at the end of the room. I neared it. It was a wall painting of five people dressed lavishly, each one of them wearing a crown. Despite the painting's enormous size it was so very meticulously detailed. I hadn’t realized I was smiling and was so out of focus. Asher’s voice brought me back, “Do you like it?”