violet grey.

Backwards we traveled, to the reclaim the day
Before we fell, like Icarus, undone:
All we find are altars in decay and profane words scrawled black across the sun.
- Sylvia Plath

on the streets.

A constant source of raw, unedited inspiration, the streets of couture fashion week never seem to disappoint. Candid, real and ever so over the top, it's a fight to "get noticed" whilst appearing not to give a damn! 

images: style.com and WWD 

Cigarettes and Fireflies

Light.

One foot after the other.

Don’t speak, fly.

Feel the beat of your love.

The open deserted air of the black night sky,

As the stars whisper to your soul.

Faded memories capturing moments of bliss, burnt onto your being,

Entwined into your beautifully chaotic mind.

Pulling you into the hysteria, screaming peacefully, floating frantically,

To a clouded sense of naïve reality.

Into dust all black every day.