Chosen by beauty to be a handmaiden of the stars, she passes like a silver brush across the lens of a telescope. She brushes the stars, the galaxies and the light-years into the order that we know them. - Richard Brautigan
AH eastbourne! and OH my beautiful friend!
plum tree talks, mea's morning yoga class, swimming in the bright blue sea (my first swim after off the season!)
hot feet walks, big skies, pasta and wine on the beach...and photos in the balmy evening air, in mea's mama's old yellow sundress. a perfect day.
We age in darkness like wood and watch our phantoms change their clothes of shingles and boards for a purpose that can only be described as wood. - Richard Brautigan
sometimes i think salt potion-soaks are not worth the hassle involved with the photo lab...but then when i get them back, and see those crazy silly colour swirls
- i remember that i just love them! these are ages old. a lovely solitary walk - made friends with horses in daft blankets.
If you will die for me, I will die for you and our graves will be like two lovers washing their clothes together in a Laundromat. If you will bring the soap, I will bring the bleach. - Richard Brautigan
...summer sneaks into everything. day by day. sitting under plum trees in eastbourne courtyards. beer and giggling girl talks.
walking in the woods with my sweetheart. nothing makes me happier than pastry crumbs and eating lunch in a tree.
This is my raffe. red. giraffe.
We're old friends now and we'll be friends when we're old. tattooed twins when we're 90.
Drinking kawakawa tea in her rose-geranium room. Laughing into egg shell sheets.
i love her more than there are words to hang like hats.
“Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair.” ― Rumi
my beautiful mea. we made a little promo video in a mad rushing rush and lashed by wind on a chilly afternoon.