no news, is good news.

Proper snow now.
It’s all white out.
All pretty and delicate.
happy though.
Bemused?
What does it matter.
This validates my current state of constant hibernation.

 

Balenciaga S/S 2012

I’ve been wary of Balenciaga for a little while now.
Not sure why really. I have been finding it rather difficult to turn my emotions and thoughts in to words lately.

But this Spring/Summer 2012 campaign shot by Steven Meisel is fucking nice.
Yeah. Really fucking nice.

tender is the night.

Gamine? Me? Far from it.

You’re the only girl I’ve seen for a very long time that actually did look like something blooming.

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

shit. it’s winter.

y hair is scraped up and back. Tight.
Like a frizzy Croydon face-lift.
Even under the duvet my toes are cold.
I search the ground for a pair of strewn socks.
Find two mis-matching. This will do.

I’m greeted by the cat. She’s huddled close.
She feels it too. The icy wind.
Left my window open last night. Silly move.
Feels like -22 my phone reads.
Shit. It’s winter.

The sinus headache creeps up and settles nicely.
My skin bone dry. Ashy.
And yet. No. I won’t let it bother me.
I dig out my favourite sweater.
This grey sweater.
Pink fuzzy socks my Mama left me.
A piping hot cup of coffee.
And the gentle purr of a kitten that loves me.
I need nothing more.

Well, I suppose the Sudafed helps too.