Wildfox ft. Allie Crandell.

Christian Louboutin Velvet Ostrich Shoeboot.

I wouldn't mind at all if they fell from the sky and landed miraculously on my feet.

Anthony Vaccarello Spring Summer 2010.


Me and Johnny D.

In crappy photoshop land.

Brought it back.

Darn it.

So I sent myself out on a mission to get me one of these.

Didn't work out but I still got a fun response. :)


Hello Dinner.

Dear Raven.

New Years, what to do?


Movie tickies.

Personality test results.


I remember one thing, whilst I am looking out the window.
Catching snowflakes falling in my field of vision simultaneously while thoughts simmer like unspoken words.
I remember a horse, white as the snow and stubborn as a donkey.

We spoke under a silence that felt like a thick dusty mist.
Bearing no more words than expressions.
No more expressions than condensed air.
No more thoughts shared than needed.

I searched his body with my eyes.
Looking up and down at him like there was something that needed to be trapped.
Hunted down with a piercing stare.
I remember the lustre of his fur, gleeming back at me in a hypnotising way.
A tremble, shiver starting around his mane and traveling along his back as a contagious sideeffect.

I trapped it.
His soul.
I had it.
The hurt, the angst, the turns, the bits and pieces of him missing.
I felt it.

"What's wrong with his left hind leg?"
No answer.
"Something is wrong with it. I can tell."


A damp voice reaching from a void.
"Nothing. He had an injury when he was a yearling. But that is long gone."

Is it really?
Is it now, really?
Then how come could I tell?

It still puzzles me.
We tilt our heads and smile without recognition.
Like dogs looking at their masters.
Never searching for a question.
I always loved the question, more so than the answer.
Maybe this is why I believe more in spirituality than religion.

I didn't know you then and I don't know you now but I still love you for pointing me in the right direction.
Thank you white horse. I hope your leg is on the recovery.


Wonderful photos by Simen Johan.

Potentially my new years dress.

If I'm lucky.


John Galliano.


I don't care what you think. I'm getting in there.

The Fox and The HoundRabbit.


I walked home.
With a feeling of unconsciousness going through my body.
Like I did not know what had just hit me.
Or why I had let something ruin a night that could have been perfect.

But I had to carry on.

I reached the halfway mark.
My eyes outlined a bench, where I sat.
Without realizing there was a man sitting beside me.
I placed my both hands on the bench loose right next to my body.

I must have looked dreadful since he put one of his hands over mine.
I looked up with a facial expression that most likely conveyed indifference.
And he looked at me back.
His face did not move. Neither did his hand.

I should have been thrown back.
But some times I have this feeling.
That I can clearly see ones true intentions.
And I knew he was true.
He did not want anything from me.
It was like I saw through him for a moment.
And I am certain he saw through me.
How else would he know that right there and then, all I needed was somebody to hold my hand?
It is weird how a complete stranger can care about you more than anyone at a certain time.
Nobody could reach me, but he did.
I did not ask for him to save me. But somehow he did.

I loosened my hand and left.
I did not look back and I knew he did not look after me when I left.
If he did I would have felt it.

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