You go down to the bottom of the sea, where the water isn't even blue anymore, where the sky is only a memory, and you float there, in the silence. And you stay there, and you decide, that you'll die for them. Only then do they start coming out. They come, and they greet you, and they judge the love you have for them. If it's sincere, if it's pure, they'll be with you, and take you away forever.
"There were twelve cold blue steel barrels - and, at the end of each, a beautiful white rose was in full bloom, with drops of dew and beige shadows in the curves of its velvety petals." -Boris Vian, Froth on the Daydream
the type of friends that'd run into your bed after an earthquake. the type of friends you'd share your last chicken cutlet with. the type of friends you'd donate your (equally damaged) liver to. the type of friends that'd model velcro sandals for you.
behind the scenes with Teva in Joshua Tree
los angeles. twenty five. five foot three. still got all my teeth, 'cept for the wise ones.
styling: anette nyseth
model: jaclyn martinez @ yuMad models
When I think of New York I have a very different feeling. New York makes even a rich man feel his unimportance. New York is cold, glittering, malign. The buildings dominate. There is a sort of atomic frenzy to the activity going on; the more furious the pace, the more diminished the spirit. A constant ferment, but it might as well be going on in a test tube. Nobody knows what it's all about. Nobody directs the energy. Stupendous. Bizarre. Baffling. A tremendous reactive urge, but absolutely uncoordinated.
- Henry Miller