To be a pilgrim, you must crumble like a great stone tower, hewn blocks tumbled-down to build the old cottages that have ruined you.
Flesh and leaves of your soul must rot underfoot into the forests through which you travel
You must flood into the rivers that water the lands you’ve traveled to visit, even as you drown under those currents.
Cast out onto the sea, you must fall with the rain and become the gales of wind which chill you.
You must be burnt to ashes in the fires of a thousand hearths, and be born into each sun’s rising.
In the face of every other that you meet, you must there see your face, reflected back, and in between every you and every other is the Other.
This is also how you meet the gods.
Rhyd Wildermuth 
I hope this gets published somewhere…maybe on a bronze stele…
Also, in that first photo, with my bad eyes, you look like a black-winged angel…which is great, if you ask me!
Great praise from a great poet. Thank you. Also, make ’em raven wings and that’s about how I felt. 🙂
No reason angeloi can’t have raven’s wings! In fact, if you were one of Bendigeidfran’s messengers, I’d expect no less! 😉
Eu também tive a mesma sensação de que você estava com asas negras
Eu senti que eu tinha deles, grandes asas de corvo . O deus Bran, cujo nome significa ” corvo “, foi ele quem fui ao encontro .:)
Lichen.