Been spending hours in the dark room messing around instead of doing my projects
A little fuzz to soften the edges of the frame in my mind, things are no longer so sharp and the world becomes easier to swallow, so I let it curl at the edges and tuck myself in
Making Kate Moss look ba-donk-a-donk phat is my greatest artistic accomplishment
Today I spent an hour reading The Alchemist from beginning to end and crying because I know I am at the moment of dying from thirst at the sight of the date trees and I don’t care to go on. I am giving up on my treasure because my heart is a traitor, and despite the things I have seen and learned I still cannot transform myself into the wind or even pretend
Who cares if you are flowers or flesh
A self portrait
You don’t always reap what you sew. Sometimes someone comes and plucks up what you’ve planted while you’re in bed dreaming of flowers. Everything is dead by the time you wake up, and you no longer have a reason to care for the sun.
