I feel like there are two types of people you shouldn’t trust. One: anyone with two first names. Except for John Wayne; always trust the dude. Two: People who you can’t tell where they’re from. You know, like when their accents are all muddled and it’s clear they’re not just from one place… because they’ve been around… and around, and around, and around…
—wise words from my barista today
The most heartbreaking movie I’ve ever watched; I barely wanted to finish it. Yet it was so artfully written, composed, and executed - piecing apart the variances in our humanity as if by surgeon’s hands… incisions both delicate and deep, by those who come to know and handle pain as it becomes their daily work. Through music and tears, these actors and writers give us an emotive portrayal of grief and unknowing that is so accurate and invasive it is rarely seen in films. Every frame, every note captures such intensity on a cosmic scale and - although haunting - it was worth the anguish to witness such beauty.
Fleece lined shirt / Rag & bone/JEAN straight jeans / ASOS ribbed over the knee socks, $13 / Converse black sneaker / Wayfare / Butter london nail polish / Butter London nail polish / Animal wall art / Caran d’Ache Grafwood Pencils / IKEA Fejka
The way you step with purpose - head down, hair hanging, keys jangling, wrinkled brow. Full lips and brooding eyes. A flame of fury in its softest disguise, like one of the guys. Velveteen feminine, muscle, and man. Today I am fierce and fertile, tomorrow supple and tan. Hunters and gatherers. XX. XY. Dress like a guy. Make love with passion and purpose, all frills, all fuss. Drench yourself in the undying duality of our nature - outdoors, indoors, hardwood floors or soft carpeted moss. Vision blends until you and me and earth become a spinning mess of a masterpiece that hinges upon our unknowing, and we’re forced to feel - before thinking, speaking, loving, proclaiming - we’re pushed into ultimate satisfaction of the self that is inscrutible and opaque.