Evidence Of Things Unseen.

Pictures By Simen Johan. I think these pieces are truly extraordinary. 
There is not a thing about them I do not love. Therefore I had to show it to everyone.

Hey, Celebrity.

Pictures by Terry Richardson.


I am in love with the one to the left, I really want one like that.
Except I am not a fan of dots.. They sort of work on these two though.
But a black trench like the one to the left, hand it over. 
From Dolce & Gabbana.


"Look at her boots"
"What is up with her hairband?"
"She has too much makeup on"

I love how people do not get me. But I get all of them.
And that is what I love.
Because they cannot help to comment. And wonder. 
Why do I always seem to matter?

My style is a mystery and so am I.
You think you know me, but really, you do not know anything.
(You can read my blog a million times. Count my thoughts like sheep over fences.
Speak to me about heaven and earth. That is just one drop in the ocean.)
But I love that. How people speak their minds about what people wear.
Because I love nasty comments bouncing off my back.
It makes me feel invincible, in a way. 
When I am alone and I smile at the people who talks shit on me.
It makes it even more funny that I usually have little respect for people.
Generally, I think a whole lot of people look extremely silly on a day to day basis.
And I do not even mind looking silly. I wear silly on my sleeve and I love it.
Especially when I am surrounded by silly people, who wear silly like a 
fucking piece of toilet paper stuck to the backside of their shoes.
Quite frankly (or quite hilariously - I do not even believe that is a word)
they themselves have not got a clue about this.
Or maybe I am the delusional black sheep who watches the world behind beer goggles.
What the hell do I know? 

Back to scratch.
I will look however I feel like looking and wear whatever I feel like wearing.
And girls like me do not grow on trees.
Get with me and you will lose your mind and break your head.
Cry your lungs dead and turn yourself blue, get lost in the concrete with me.
I am a mystery and nobody has solved it yet. But you can try, darling. You can try.


Hard? I might be. But I am not impossible, you see.

I saw him. No conversation, my eyes just spotted him.
My very own Mr. Big - as one of my friends very nicely put it.
Shwooping by me as if I was not even there.
It is funny how I have not seen him in ages still I know that
if he had seen me that day, it would have been good.
Would have, Could have, Should have.
I would have stopped him if I was not paralyzed by his existance.
I could have shouted his name if I did not know it would not make anything different.
I should have talked to him.. if I did not know I should not have.

I had not seen him in forever.
Still I knew, exactly when I sighted him.
It is you.
A bit longer hair, a bit shorter beard, quite possibly a bit more ignorant.
But it is you.

And then I just let it go.

I love you.

Love Spain, Hate Bullfighting.

Billboards by SPY.


I was at the countryside, running (in wellingtons).
I realize now: when you do that, things like this happen.

I wrote on my tank.

When a man's an empty kettle he should be on his mettle, 
And yet I'm torn apart. 
Just because I'm presumin' that I could be kind-a-human, 
If I only had heart
I'd be tender - I'd be gentle and awful sentimental 
Regarding Love and Art. 
I'd be friends with the sparrows ... 
and the boys who shoots the arrows 
If I only had a heart
Picture me - a balcony. Above a voice sings low. 
Wherefore art thou, Romeo? I hear a beat.... 
How sweet. 
Just to register emotion, jealousy - devotion, 
And really feel the part. 
I could stay young and chipper 
and I'd lock it with a zipper, 
If I only had a heart. 

AriZona Ice Tea.

      My new obsession. Four bottles in three days. 

# 10.

I love that feeling.
There is nothing when I see him. And nothing when I think about him.
Where there used to be as many thoughts as there are grains of sand on beaches, there is now nothing.
I just look at him and feel ashamed of how blind I was.
There holds so much irony in how he looks at me.
Like he suddenly feels ashamed of how blind he was.
Letting me slip away from his grip.
I am lost when he is close, and he can never find me again.
It does not matter how much he would ever dream of catching me - it is not possible.
I am invincible and it is your loss this time. Your loss, this time.
The flag does not fly anymore, and I do not allow my thoughts to be wasted on your sorry ass any longer.


Myself, by me.

I want these.

From asos.com by Carvela.

But only if.

And only if he could read my face like a message, it would say:
I love you. But you are a mess. What do you want from me?
I will not crumble, but I can turn my back away. 
Is that really what you want?
You should stay where you are true.
I will be.
Do not come back.
If you are not, do not come back.
It is not that I do not like you.
It is that, that I want to turn you blue.
Make you lost like me, so we can get lost together.
And never be found.
I somehow know I will love it that way.
Direction, what is the use?
But it ends before it has even begun.
Like it always does.
I am sorry - like you will be.
When I change the locks to my life with you in it.
And throw away the keys you had in the palm of your hand.

Some day I will wish for something good.
Something good and nothing bad.
I have always shared with the most dishonest.
Because I have never listened.
And when it backfires, I only have myself to blame.
"Just do not trust him"
"He will break your heart"
And he does.
As ever before.
But the show must go on, you see.
There will be followers.
As ever before.

I just wish for them to see me for the wonder I am.
My friend told me.
"What is wrong with us? What did we do?
Did we kill a family of five in our former lives?"
Maybe we did.

Simplistic Sensuality.

By Alex Aristei.


RSS 2.0