Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
into the darkness they go
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Shingled house
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Can we pretend
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
behind the paper
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
The games we used to play ~
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Head in the Clouds~
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
bedside manner
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
The Rush Job~
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Gathering of the witches ~
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
It was almost like she was the fog.” ― J.C. Morrows
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Living next door to Venus~
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Send in the clowns
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Catch your breath
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Celebrate Every Moment!!
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
forgetting is so long
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
More hands ...
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
This place is always such a mess
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Wallpaper
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
this museum full of ash
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
“The town was paper, but the memories were not.” -― John Green,
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
The Sun Came Out ~
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
When you call me señorita~
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
dancing barefoot
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Unfair we're not somewhere misbehaving for days
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Lean On Me
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
Not sure if my head is screwed on backwards or my feet ??
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
we can dance
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
“I think about you. But I don't say it anymore.” ― Marguerite Duras
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
The language of hands
Shelly MacNeil - Conway:
alone with her ghosts
