Child | Golden Mother-Of Pearl Shell On A Thick Resin Silver Rimmed Wavy Bangle

He was anxious for the microscope that was due to be delivered that day. He wanted to be home, needed to be home, to receive it from the new postal guy because the old postal guy refused to deliver to the kid's house again. He pulled on his mother's white skirt that flared out like a carnival tent. She bought some cotton candy and offered some to him, but he shook his head so vigorously that his glasses fell off. Before he could retrieve them from the confetti-speckled road, his mother grabbed his arm and pulled him off towards some other thing that easily distracts. And his glasses were left to stare at the hundreds of feet that stood before his way home.


(photo via AnOtherMag.com)

My Ball | Low Luv X Erin Wasson Hematite Round Ring in Gold

Mother was getting the rest of my stuff out of the car and talking to the coach whilst leaving very provocatively (for her age) against the door of the car. Dad was off getting hot dogs, probably with a side of whiskey.

And there I was, lying on the field on battle, waiting for the ball to start rolling.

It wasn't my first game, and I wasn't a good player. I was brilliant. The coach loved my skills. The other players loved my consideration for the team. The audience loved my goals. I just loved the grass and the ball's ability to roll over it in accordance to my foot's command.

My boot studs piercing the dirt and blades of grass; a stunning tragedy. Yet with all that destruction, rom afar a field was still a field. The grass would still grow and the dirt wasn't going anywhere.

Oh and when it rains? Hallelujah! Mud splattering everywhere, onto the shirts and shorts of the runners and swirling with the blood from skinned knees and elbows. I'd smear the mud on my face, readying myself for the primitivity of competition. It's a rough game, football. Don't think the opposition won't play foul and spit in your eye when it comes to victory. Remember: They want the trophy as badly as you do.

'Chase! Better start warming up!' Gary was shouting, but I didn't want to get up yet.

'I'm just stretching my calves,' I shouted back.

I curled my toes under my feet and made it look like I was really stretching them. I sort of was anyway, since I was in that position.

I stared out at the other little-uns getting ready for the game. They all looked so small from down here. Then I saw a beetle, perched on a grass blade close to my eye. It was the size of the football from my perspective. Gary nearly kicked it.

Speaking of the devil, Gary went on to grab my ankles and dragged me into the center of the field.

'Get a move on, man! We'll be starting anytime now!' he shouted.

He likes to shout.

I got up and started kicking the ball around, ran a few laps, stretched my legs (I really did). Mother was sitting with Dad on the bleachers. She waved at me and smiled, showing off her shiny white teeth. Dad was happily eating his hot dog. There was mustard on his shirt. He smiled at me with his thumb up, then grabbed Mother's hand. She looked at him and giggled, wiping a smidgen of ketchup from his cheek.

My studs were ready to stab, my legs were strong and eager to carry my weight across the field, and my eyes were as sharp as ever. I kicked the.. Hey that's my ball!


(photo via RevolveClothing.com)

The Dead Speak | Acne Oxide Metallic Crinkled-Leather Pouch

I see you.

Your body lay out like a slab of meat

Reeking with silence and too much make-up

But there are so many thoughts flying through my head

Strapped with noisy jetpacks.

I hear your voice, you dead,

When I’m alive and

Blacking out with my eyes open.

(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Two | Pamela Love Rose-Tone Bronze Triangle Ring

We are the two inside your head.
We are the incorporeal things you dread.

Your fury,
You're mad.

Wasn't it Franklin who said three can keep a secret if two of them are dead?
We may not be alive, but we are certainly not dead.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Here | Nobuyoshi Araki, 1997

She left her prince by the edge of the sea, at the bottom of the stairs, where she climbed to the top of the tower. Her feet curled off each stair, bare with sand buried in the mounds of her toes and cracks in her heels. Gastrocnemius muscles in her calves bulged and softened with every step. Lean lines shot straight up her legs. The way up was dark and coated with pitch - a natural road. And she climbed slowly, carefully, deferentially. She bit her lips until they bloomed red and licked the salty traces that never belong on a rose. The messy waves of her hair were gathered into a braid, trailing from the crown of her head to the tattoo on the small of her back. It was a dragon, twisted in slumber but with fire still burning at the tip of its tail. Her ponytail swung from side to side over the flame. She was near the top. She threw off her top. Sticky walls caught it and framed it in an artless gallery. The door swung out at her touch and she collapsed on the bed. The window was open and a faint voice was whispering down down down. But here she stayed, staring at a cloudless sky, waiting for one or some to wander up, up, up.


(photo via AnOtherMag.com)

Either | Ludevine Extreme Cat Eye Ring

Could I, for a moment, be incorporeal? I could be the glitch in the system, that fraction-of-a-second blackout; something that never lingers long enough to catch the next twitch. Let me invade the cove of thought that nobody listens to because they don't care. I can sneak through the gap above, beside, underneath, and assimilate you. There's a wink and a catch and a cough; I am none of these. In retrospect, I was never material or made of material. Perhaps I wish I was, so I could understand what it means to be nothing now. But I'm not important, you are. You're the ragamuffin squatting in the corner of some dirty alley trying to climb a fence that isn't there. Even if you told me there was a way out, I wouldn't believe you. There is no way out. I know this because I am the way out, and you're not letting me in. Why? Reason eludes us all; words even more so when we need them the most. It's okay. There's no real train of thought. Just thought. But I'll let you have one narrow ray of sunshine.
I don't know, either.


(photo via ludevine.com)

Away | Fannie Schiavoni Steel Harness

She could not hear the vibration from her phone. The boat was only a few clicks out to sea; land was still within her eyes' reach. The waves wandered beneath the floating vessel, caressing the hull with their moist palms. She laid down on the deck, on her side, and rocked like a baby in its crib. With her ear pressed to the floor, she listened to the muffled voice of the ocean. It was a conversation with breaths and sighs, untainted by words with too much or no meaning. She walked to the stern and crouched down, dipping her fingers in the water. It was cool to the touch and washed away the tears that stained her hands invisibly after she wiped her eyes. She had added her own salt to the sea.

The boat was being carried further away from land. And she stood and watched as she was forced to retreat. The beach was bare and empty. Her family had not yet awoken and so had not yet discovered the missing boat. Water had mollified her; she no longer contained any fury whatsoever in regards to her kin. She was simply still whilst another world crashed and swirled in chaos around her.

The amorphous clouds gave way to the penetrating sun rays that came from beyond the land. And as the sun continued to rise above the hills and trees, so did the sparkling sheen in her eyes. With scintillating vision she turned away and took naked steps to the wheel. She checked her phone. There was a message from a number she never forgot. Her finger hovered over the button that would reveal the last words. She pressed it. But the signal was lost, and so was the message. She threw it away.


(photo via AnOtherMag.com)

Hope | Marie- Hélène de Taillac 22-Karat Gold Rubelite Clover Ring

First, you were just a word on the screen. Then you became sentences in my mouth. Turning since from an unimaginable entity into something real. The first time I brought you out (or you brought me out, I forget which) you waited for me. And I have stood by you ever since. We have shared so much laughter and so much sadness. I have heard you cry and I have seen your heart break. You have heard my silence and you have seen my scars. One day, it became difficult to stand by your side, and your existence became naught. You might have still existed somewhere out there, for others and for yourself, but not for me. Another day, it became even more difficult to be away from you, and I salvaged the bits of us left. More words. More sentences. More real. We could be brilliant together, I thought. Nevertheless another day has come. And difficulties are surging their way through to sleepless nights. Again I find myself wondering if I had too much hope, and whether such hope must finally die.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Sxx | Rosamosario Classica Bellezza Silk-Creponne and Lace French Briefs

She melted in her sheets, the soft suppleness of her skin cruising over the wavy creases of her silk covers. The sun was rising over the city and into the clouds, clearing space for the small droplets of summer rain. Her saturnine face was bespattered with the sky's tears as the blistering wind tore through the balcony doors. The wispy curtains curled like smoke at the wind's assertive voice, beckoning her to the shallow society on the other side of the balustrade. Lightning struck and fires lit and her face was set aglow. A roaring passion was blazing outside, a stirring piquancy, and she was laid on her back, ruminating. Her arm stretched out towards the open doors and she sucked in all the life that sprang in. And she looked up into his eyes and kissed him with tender lips that shuddered. The sun exposed a smattering of movement that survived the young chaos, her curtains became still, and the doors swung closed.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

The Globe | Oscar de la Renta Paris Woven Tweed Bag

An open roof, a sheltered stage,

Lifted asses and planted foots

Meet fleeting flurries of rain

And smears of a crimson war.

Henry steps out with his fury

Yet also with a smile

That breaks the clouds,

So fury shall abate.

And with sweet trills

Of birds, too, in love,

He steals a kiss from her sugar lips

And her French tongue.

They dance and they bow;

Daylight is gone and the planes keep flying overhead.

(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Shadows | Jacquemus White Coat

She sat up in her white bed, in the white room, by the white window. Daylight peeked in through the white curtains and illuminated the white walls. Picking up the glass on the white side table, she took a sip. Her gown was speckled with baby blue dots, like small holes in a cloudy sky. And her lips were purple from the cold, but she couldn't move the blanket up to cover her hardened nipples. She saw beads of rain stuck to the glass window like the back of her head was stuck to the wall. Then she stared at the white wall at the end of her feet and her focus shifted constantly, casting white shadows on the wall, outlined with a blurred oily sheen. She saw the clouds that would soon lay her down to rest. They dipped and fell as soon as she had a mindful hold on their form; sinking below her to carry her up, up towards the black sky where nothing breathed. And from her absolute position amongst the stars, she would watch a world purged of white shadows and every now and again cast her own down upon the land and sea.


(photo via AnOtherMag.com)

Wondering | ALICE Knapsack

'Ready?' Meero asked. The rods were packed in their cases and the lines were wound and coiled in his knapsack. The baits were fresh and still bobbling in the lunchbox, waiting for their inevitable destiny.

Lamisaray rummaged through her messenger bag the last time. 'I can't find it,' she exclaimed, sending her bag sailing. 'The pearl's gone.'

'Sweetheart, it's on the back of your neck,' Meero said smilingly. Her hand swooped up to find it lodged in the nape of her neck. 'Right,' she said, laughing, 'let's go then.'

They swam towards the sun and spotted a boat floating on the surface near a pier. 'Shall we?' Lamisaray said. Her eyes glinted in the refracted sunlight. Meero tied a few tentacles to a few lines and sent the jellyfish up bobbing and waving in the lighter parts of the ocean.

Michael was sharing a cigarette with Lana on the stern, kicking their feet in the water and watching the horizon. Nothing left their mouths except the soft curls of smoke dissipating in the sea breeze.

'Shit, Lana, get out of the water!' Michael shouted when he noticed the growing number of glowing jellies. Water splashed about in a panic as they scrambled to get their legs back on the boat. And when the ephemeral panic died out, they crouched over the stern and peered into the water, mesmerized by the enchanting creatures.

Far below in the deep Meero and Lamisaray watched the watchers. The water became less of a window and more of a mirror as they observed their human counterparts. The fascination swimming between the two couples left all befuddled and they stared on, neither really knowing what they were staring at.

The sky was darkening. Lamisaray reached behind her and popped the pearl out of her skin, which smoothened out and became firm as though a bulbous orb wasn't previously embedded in it. She kissed it and it glittered blue and green where her lips touched it. Then she passed it to Meero, who also kissed it and let it glitter blue and green where his lips touched it. The pearl flew up, through the smack of jellyfish, and burst out onto the surface where it took the illusory shape of a reflected moon.

It shone brightly enough on the surface of the dark water to hide the now glowing iridescent tails of the mermaid and the merman. And while Michael and Lana rolled more cigarettes under the stars, Meero and Lamisaray dove deeper into the black water amongst the bioluminescent organisms; all left to wondering.


(photo via fleabg.com)

Cheat | Ava Smith in Valentino Fall 2012 RTW

How you danced in that golden hue
With sparkling eyes, a wonderful blue
But ne'er could I utter what wasn't true
For I do not love you

You see, my dear
It's always fear
That makes me break the rule
And out of hate
I strike a gait
That makes other women woo

You shed your tears, I can see
Yet they're for my cheats, not me


(photo via Vogue.com)

Bubble Speeches | Huzza Silk Surf Print Button Down

Glub glub glub.
Oh, hey Frank.

Glub glub.
Hello Joe.

'What do you reckon they're up to?' Joe asked as he stared out towards the shore.

'I don't know. Such strange creatures. I mean, look at those tails, and those unruly fins. They're like a quarter of Gigi's arms,' said Frank, condescendingly.

'Looks like they're trying to stand on the water. Hah! What jokers!' laughed Joe.

'Well, it's not like they can swim very well with those tails,' Frank said as he gestured to the humans' legs.

'Oh, shit! I think Tyna's coming. She's got a bounty on my head for stealing her catch the other day.  Gotta swim!' exclaimed Joe, hurrying fast.

'Yes, yes, swim away, you bloody thief,' Frank said with tight lips. He turned back to the shore and watched the humans surf from sun up to sun down. Lights started flickering from the sand and boards were carried out of the water.

A small plank was drifting on the surface close by. Seeing that no one was around, Frank flopped onto the plank and was cradled by the rocking currents in the night. When he couldn't hold his breath any longer, he flopped back in the water.

Glub glub glub glub glub glub glub glub.
I don't see what the hype's all about.


(photo via AnOtherMag.com)

Goodbye | Rita Liefhebber Hand Dyed Ombre Collared Dress

I'm sorry.
I didn't dream it up enough for you to live it. We had infinity ahead of us and we just couldn't make it, I guess. Oh I had such a life for you, with you. And it was a tough decision, believe me, to let you go. But I had to. That was one helluva fight, by the way. I never thought you could move so fast. And that last part with your blood? Wow. You were gonna be one to be reckoned with. You were gonna be the one to beat.. Your sister will be fine. And so will he. I promise. I don't know what's in store for you now, but I won't be the one dreaming it. I hope you'll be part of a better mind. You know how I'm losing mine. Heh. Goodbye, Ruby.


(photo via www.RitaLiefhebber.com)

Cotton Candy | Yue Pocket Backpack

You prance around like you know your way. Take the wrong step so you'll come my way.
Trip over that jutting part of the pavement and scrape your knee. I hope you bleed.
Those idiots underestimate me.

If I wanted to, I could tear your flesh away with my teeth.
But you're like cotton candy:
A second on my tongue and you'll diminish.

Is there something in your pants that I need to set free?
Oh please let it come close to me.
I'll show you and them what these tiny hands can do.
I will kill you.


(photo via AnOthermag.com)

Wake Up | Daytime Pyjamas by Shakuhachi

She clambered and shambled, her feet digging in the sand, struggling to pull herself out of the water. She rolled onto her back, half still submerged, feeling the wet sand rubbing into her scaly skin. She breathed in the salty air that sent her eyes swerving to the back of her head. She stretched her arms out, the waves charging to grab them but failing. She kicked her legs, shaking the currents, sending them flying into the orange radar of the rising sun. She squinted against the new light, shielding her eyes with her webbed fingers, capturing the lingering yet fleeting image of the candy-coloured sky. She pushed herself into a sitting position and pulled her legs out of the water, shedding the gelatinous film off her body. She breathed hard and stood steadfast, rubbed the last grains of sand out of her eyes, and finally started her day with the sun grinning down at her and the waves sadly retreating.


(photo via AnOthermag.com)

Moribundity | Gucci Moby Dick Leather and Canvas Coin Purse

The golden rock wall glistened in the sun that smiled through the open roof as water trickled down from the heavens in a thin film. Droplets bounced off protruding rock surfaces and dived into the deep emerald pool below. The rectangular pool was led to by staircases on the three remaining sides coloured with the strands of a dirty blonde. There she laid on her back floating on the bed of green liquified bills. Her eyes closed and arms slowly waving alluringly. And he came moving towards her with a motion that never disturbed a current. The faceless friend with soft brown locks and a body chiseled by the artists of old beautiful times. He came bringing his arms below her suspended frame and pulled her close to him. The sun that erased his face blinded her when she opened her eyes to the call of her heart. This feeling of an ephemeral eternity that invaded her and gunned down the warriors within her brandishing spears of peace. And as the sound of the splashing water drowned out she was swallowed by the light.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Crash | Acne Cocoon Jacket

I ran. I stumbled. I fell.
I crashed
Into the glass walls that deceived me.
My rubber boots wobbling around my feet,
My hands blindly grabbing.

Sister laughed at me,
She made faces at me through the transparency.
Her long hair the same colour as mine:
Golden like the sunny sun sun.
I am a shiny sun son.

The shiny sun son's mom
Is radiantly wrinkly
In her bright orange jacket.
And as I run and stumble and fall,
I crash into her.


(photo via AnOthermag.com)

He Said/She Said | Daniel Vosovic Fall '12 Collection

'I'm sorry,' he said.
'I know,' she said.

The glass started fogging from their heated breaths and she started to cry. She pressed her face to the window and her tears drew paths in the flat mist. No matter how she pounded and grabbed or clawed at the glass, it wouldn't break or even soften to just let her touch him. His voice was soft in her ear, she could barely hear him. The phone was slipping through her fingers. She kept breathing heavily, almost panting; her heart was beating too hard for her to handle.

He watched her with droopy eyes, swollen from crying in the night. Gulp after gulp, he tried to swallow the regret, but it was forever stuck in his throat. He knew she wouldn't forgive him for what he did, and there was no way she could wait that long.

As her sobs ceased she leveled herself with him. She put a firm grip around the phone and whispered sharply into it, eyeing his quivering lips.

'I'm coming after you,' she said.
'I know,' he said.


(photo via AnOthermag.com)

Mine | Etro Abstract Tiered Necklace

I'm going to eat you.
Shovel you into my mouth
And devour you.

I will grit my teeth.
They will grind you into pieces
Then you will fall.

Deep down the pit
Dug in my neck,
You will die.

Sizzle,
Sizzle,
Sizzle.

Don't get me wrong, monster,
Your world is not mine.
But my world is not yours.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

You/Me | Hermione de Paula

All the long years of our lives we've suffered together in utter jollity. We've faced countless strokes of darkness and defeated the monsters within us that create them. My bones shake and ache from the distance between us; I can reach you but never touch you. Your laughter fades in my memory. There are no letters that can bear your spirit enough to satisfy me. And so I sit here, brimming with nostalgia of the foggy past-the two of us going nowhere hand in hand, but refusing to let go when our owners pull us away. I cannot be free without you. You live within me. You stained my soul. And when we die, we die together. The world can burn from the sparks of our friendship, and those who destroy must become those who rebuild. And we, the destroyers of selves must return to our own bodies.


(photo via AnOthermag.com)

Rush | Rosamosario Lara's Flower Beach in St Tropez Swimsuit

There she laid, basking in the sun's rays. The oil on her skin glistening; twinkling sparks dancing on her back. Her love handles jiggled cutely as she moved to retrieve her book from her bag. Flipping through the pages, she found the last pit stop in her mindful adventure and slinked off into more mystery. She bit her bottom lip and my blood rushed. Her hair was messily propped at the back of her head, exposing the sleekly sweet nape of her neck, and without permission my eyes groped the contours of her body. I could feel my fingers twitching. Sand trickled over the back of her thighs as she steadily kicked her heels in the air. Her hips raised as she adjusted herself, and my feet leapt out from under me. She turned and smiled, barely wording "Hi love," as I fell on her and let my passion run through.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Take Me | Hixsept Ann T-Shirt

And in the crack of dawn she woke. Raising her arms above her head, leaping up from the bed, her husband's shirt drooping over her small shoulders, just covering her sex. Onto the ladder she stepped, and she climbed. She climbed until she reached the ceiling, then she climbed through the ceiling, and passed through her neighbor's kitchen. Her feet edged off each step of the ladder gracefully, never slipping off, her toes always firm in their grasp. Splinters caught in her hands, but she ignored them all. Through the roof she climbed and up into the orange blue. The ice stung her cheeks, but she ignored them too. And then, finally, she saw him, reaching down to grab her hand. She took it. She took his shirt and returned it to him. He took it. He took her hand and tossed the shirt back down. It waved goodbye and swayed down until it twisted in a heap on their bed. And at last, they took their naked bodies away, joining the world as they slept on the clouds.


(photo via AnOthermag.com)

Chalk | Model in Ana Locking Spring 2012

He sat atop the hill that overlooked the village and the fields from which they grew their food. The wind kindly swept his hair over his right shoulder as he faced the land before him. Flowers were blooming in random patches on the hill at the call of spring. Beside him were a small bed of baby's breath. Their petals felt small and smooth between his fingers; fragile also.

He could hear the villagers shouting. It was a cacophony full of squabbles; utters of nonsense and gibberish he couldn't really understand. After all, he was young-his face bereft of experience and his bones still stretching his skin.

He dug his fingers into the earth between his legs, sifting through the dirt and the rocks and the worms. In the afternoon sun, he could feel the heat radiating from the ground beneath him as his fingers journeyed through the grass. The wind whispered the tales of the quiet as it penetrated his ears.

He lay sprawled on his back facing the sun. He reached his hands up, shaking those of the ghosts that traveled on the tails of invisible beasts. And he continued staring up at the sun, with cloudy eyes that felt no pain save for the eternal slap of a blackboard, to which he had no chalk.


(photo via Facebook.com)

Junk | Ludevine Ammonite Pendant

"Ray! Over here!" Hugo shouted over to the shaggy-haired professor. As Hugo looked up at him, Ray's stern disposition seemed to disappear for a moment as the rising sun behind him softened his features. But once he went down from the surface of the crater and walked towards the crouching Hugo, all hopes for friendliness were dashed as he stared critically down at what Hugo held in his hands.

"What is it?" he asked, in that deep, raspy voice only men who've had enough experience with the real world could summon. Hugo continued brushing dirt off the specimen as he responded that he wasn't sure. He turned it over and over with his fingers, intrigued at the survival of such a small orb-like object. The bomb should have vaporized everything within that crater.

As Ray reached to take it from him, Hugo swiftly aided its escape. "Oh no, Ray, this one's mine," he said. Then like children they grappled for it until finally Hugo, whose build was indeed bigger than Ray's, extended his arm and shoved Ray's face away with his palm. Ray's meager attempts to even reach Hugo's torso were futile.

After cleaning the orb-ish thing on his shirt, Hugo tossed it in the air and tucked it deep into the pocket of his trousers. Ray regained his composure by lighting his pipe tobacco and puffing away without a care. They packed up their equipment and went back to the mansion.

The mansion was built by their great grandfather and it was as sturdy as all the men in their family, without hinting at any means of compensation, for if you met any of them, you would know instantly that the respect they demanded was the respect they deserved. Hugo took the thing out of his pocket and placed it in a glass jar that was almost full with other bits and bobbles. He smiled at his accomplishment. Then he looked over at Ray's collection and shook his head with a small laugh. Being the older brother meant that Ray still had an edge over Hugo.

"The more junk we collect, the more this place is just gonna end up a dump." Ray remarked. Their desire to create the perfect bomb was always met with something that seemed to survive. But in order to save the people of the world from the demise of their own doings, they had to make it such that no residue was left.

"Well, once we get it right, the dumps will all just disappear," Hugo said. "Shall we continue?" he asked, turning to Ray's smoky figure. Ray emerged and dumped the burnt tobacco in a rusty metal vase. Without replying, he sought his books and put his goggles on. The side of Hugo's lips twitched as he, too, put on his goggles and reassembled his equipment.


(photo via Ludevine.com)

Forward | Versus Printed Cotton-Blend Dress

He peaked over the bulwark and gazed up to her beautiful face, silently swooning. The lines of her frame so softly sharp that it'd cut you before you even touched her. The intricate details of her features only added majesty and elegance that was already freely commended on. And the way her hands brushed over her cheeks.. made him nearly fall over the wall.

The boy was only twelve years old. But such a beauty had already captured his heart. He'd risk all the cuts his body could endure if he could just touch her once. His hands forever jealous of his eyes, yearning to lay themselves upon her bosom. He daydreamed of demolishing that wretched wall and protecting her with every tool he could muster. Using the arts inherited from his master he would keep her alive even after his death.

And yet every day as the apprentice walked home from the shop, taking his time to admire the perfect design of this ancient clock tower, he could only move forward as the time ticked away.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Ring | Regal Rose Ginger. Fiery Feather Ear Cuff

The world is in such a state. Bombs in the making. Fires keep burning. Ashes still tossing in the wind. With a whole ocean's worth of water and the whole land's worth of dirt.

Ring-a-ring-a-roses!


People beat down, shot down, buried down. Down down down. Deep in the caverns of our hearts. Waiting forever for the freedom that never came.

A pocket full of posies!


With no one to trust. Whose words are worthy of belief? Where do we place our money? When do we begin? When will it all end?

Hush! Hush! Hush! Hush!


But now is not the time to hesitate. Follow yourself. And help others along the way. Before it's too late.

We're all tumbled down!




(photo via RegalRose.co.uk)

Bzzzt | Diane Kordas 18-Karat Rose Gold Diamond Lightning Bolt Earrings

Knock.
There is no way.
Knock.
Seriously. No.
Knock.
Fuck no. No no and no.
Knock.
I'm gonna kill her.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Clatter. Tchickkk. Swoosh.


"What do you want Clara?"

"Oh come on Ethan, we're gonna be late!"

Slam!


"Ethan, open the door!" Pound. Pound. "Mom's gonna be mad at you for this!"


"Let her do her worst!"

Creak. Rustle. Poof.


...


Knock knock knock.


"I'm not going!"

"Ethan Francisco Lavar, you are going to class today and that is final."

"No!"

Crash! Slam! Bash!


"I'm not going to tell you again Ethan. Now get out of bed this instant. You're going to make Clara late as well."

...
...
...

"No."
...
...
...

Bzzzzzzzzzt.
...
...

Click. Click. Rumble. Zoooom.


...


"Hey mom, where'd you get the taser?"


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Punishment | Bimba & Lola Evening Bag

I waited for her outside the club. She was just getting her bag. Taking a long drag out of my cigarette to drown the taste of bitter vodka, I thought of absolutely nothing. All around me people were tripping over themselves. Some had not-so-cleanly passed out on the floor and some were still trying to get there.

The brick wall against my back was cold and my innards shivered. I pushed myself off the wall and simultaneously flicked the cigarette butt on the floor, giving it a good rubbing into hell, where I'm expected sometime soon.

Finally. I saw her come out of the club, bag clutched tightly in her arms like a teddy bear. I loved her unfettered innocence. Her smile lit a flame in my heart once again as she brought her face close to mine. I cupped her cheeks and planted my rough lips on her. With my lips still locked with hers, I revealed my black irises to see her galactic ones. Only.. those eyes didn't belong to her.

No.. I pushed the girl away and ran in search of my real love. But it was too late..

I saw her crouched on the opposite pavement, hugging herself tightly against the pain. The scars on her back were peeling off her skin. Her wings were blooming. I held her. I didn't want to let her go! I refused to! But her immortal wings, mesmerizing with their auroral sheen, were too strong for my mortal body. I apologized profusely. I didn't know it wasn't her. Her tears fell with mine as she was pulled towards the sky. I held on for as long as I could..

I love you, she said. Then the last of her fingers slipped out of my hand.

Hell welcomed me with open arms. These demons, selfish demons. They tricked me, their King, so I would return. But as if these idiots have power over me. I'll get her back soon, but first things first:

Beelzebub, get my whip.


(photo via bimbaylolastore.com)

Ill/Sick-ness | Thakoon Addition Maui Printed Cotton Sweatshirt

I can feel it inside me, penetrating me. It surfs the waves of my blood, crashing into the walls and damaging my network. Soon it'll reach my heart, then I don't know what's going to happen. It lives off my life, this parasite. It dives deep, cherishing the moments underneath before bursting out with rebirth or reincarnation or reloading. Every current that passes tries to bring the sharks back. They only want to protect me. But their fins wave less now because of the knifes that saw through them. Every time I unfold my hands, to embrace this parasite, to make friends, it chops my fingers down, springing them down to a fist. I can feel myself getting weaker. There is not enough water in my body to sustain me. The heat burns within me, making me hotter and hotter. My heart will give up soon. It gave up some time ago actually. But my mind keeps going, hoping that if I keep my eyes open long enough, I'll see the day the parasite becomes a symbiont. At least.. if I don't make it, my body will return to the stars, and, from there, I'll be able to continue watching.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Listen | Valentino Platinum-Plated Marcasite and Crystal Monkey Earrings

Where are you?
Are you somewhere crowded?
Are you surrounded?
Close your eyes.
Cover your ears.
Listen.
Listen hard.
Focus.
Focus!
What do you hear?
What are they saying?
Is it discordant?
Can you understand?
Focus!
What words are they using?
What sounds are they making?
A tick?
A clack?
Anything?
Focus!!
I'm sorry..
Take a breath.


Feel the slight movement of your hair.
Feel the periodical beats of your heart.
Now ignore them.
Listen.
Focus.
Got it?


Now go get them.




(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Talent | Kasil Workshop Geek Shorts in Limelight

Somewhere on an island, in the middle of a green ocean, is a tree. This tree bears wonderful fruit, of different shapes and sizes and colours. Some smell like berries but look like peaches. Some taste like oranges but smell like apples. And some look like crimson cherries but taste like rotten bananas.

This tree plays chef to the many critters on the island who feed off the weird fruit. Once eaten, the fruit can bestow great energy or worse bitterness in a critter. It is unfortunate for those who think that the pretty-looking, sweet-smelling fruit is always good for you. Sometimes the more malodorous, the more reliable. It is strange to think so, is it not? How can one escape deception of a mere fruit, you might ask.

Well, usually critters are more intuitive. They can sniff out the essence of the fruit. Maybe they'll prod it. Maybe they'll put it to the test. Just maybe they'll let some other critter suffer for it. But! in the end they never truly know until they've taken the first bite. That first bite that buries their teeth deep within the flesh, with juice spilling over and oozing down the side of their wide lips.

Some critters become leaders, others followers, and some others corpses. And the fruit remains hanging off the tree, waiting to be plucked. Some age too fast and fall off their branches to be squished upon landing on the ground. They wait for the micro-critters to slowly eat them away.

So how would you judge the fruit of this tree? Take a bite & you shall see.


(photo via KasilWorkshop.com)

Black Hole | Erickson Beamon Night Porter 22-Karat Gold-Plated Swarovski Crystal Mask

The evening party was stellar. Decorations hung on the wall; crystalized and gilded ornaments with sharp edges and fluffy prominences rising and falling like waves from lamp to lamp. The lamps themselves were dimmed to add to the mysterious ambience. The invited were lounging on red velvet sofas, sipping glistening bubblies, basking in the ghosts produced from dead pipes, or enjoying the other world on the open floor.

From the huge mahogany double doors came the lady dripping in silver, her gown as smooth as the inside of an oyster's shell. Black ribbons fell over her shoulders from a loosely-tied bun, and her golden eyes were nary overshadowed by her luscious blonde hair. (Don't you think that's a bit typical?) As she walked to the center of the room, all lines of vision gravitated toward her. (Oh come on, really!)

My arms returned from their airy, dreamy state and landed in a cross. I looked at the children sitting around me. "Then what is it you want to hear?" I asked.

"How about a story about the prince and the platypus!"

"No! The one with the spaceship and the lava room!"

"Not that one! It's scary!"

I breathed a huge exasperated sigh, and just as I was about to suggest something else, the teacher came in and told them it was lunch time. The children sprang up off the floor and ran out to the playground with their lunch boxes.

"Not easy, is it?" the teacher asked, detecting my exasperation.

The edges of my lips twitched into a forced smile and I watched the children from the window. Free and easy. I wondered if telling them stories was even such a good thing after all. I mean, who knows what kind of ideas I'm planting in their heads?

No sooner had I lost myself in my thoughts that the children came rushing back into the classroom. Still gazing out the window, little Lacy came tugging on my sleeve.

"Tell us another story, won't you miss?"

Looking down into those innocent, twinkling eyes, I tucked a lock behind her ear and smilingly resumed my position on the stool. The children came and sat all around me, hyper from their lunch and eager to listen. The teacher leaned against the doorway, nodding at me to proceed. I gladly proceeded.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

(By the way, for those curious about the previous short, here's a hint: highlight.)

Magic | Christopher Kane Rainbow Cotton and Silk-Blend Dress

So where do I begin? I don't really know how it started, or how it really happened. I was just sitting under the sycamore tree playing my guitar for the first time in a long time. I had a real good rhythm in my head and was tapping my foot on the grass. My head swayed to the tune that only I could hear. I was happy.


Then I felt a touch on my ankle and found an odd patch on the collar of my sock. Slowly surfing down the air waves, right in front of my eyes, was a snowflake? But it wasn't white, and it was summertime. Why would there be snow? It glittered like a tiny star and I caught it in the palm of my hand. When it didn't melt I knew for sure it wasn't a snowflake. The ground started rumbling and the tree shook against my back. An earthquake! I hugged the trunk tightly, pulling my whole body into it. The earthquake stopped almost as suddenly as it had started, and when I opened my eyes I saw the most incredible sight. There were millions of those glittering things flying in the air around me! Silver and gold, they gleamed and shimmered beautifully in the sun. It was like a dream.


I wandered around in it and reached my arms out to bask in this peculiar rain. I had walked a little distance from where my guitar now leaned against the trunk of the sycamore tree and apparently met an invisible wall. I rubbed my forehead and winced. Using my palms as feelers, I discovered that the whole perimeter around the sycamore tree was covered with this invisible wall. I banged against it but it just absorbed the shock and, like jelly, just bounced my fist right off. I realized that outside the wall, the grass wasn't lain with all this shiny rain. Quickly I climbed up the tree, branch by branch, and as I expected, I could feel the gelatin wall above the tree too. It seemed like I was trapped in a crazy giant's snow globe.


Resting my palms against my hips, I hmph-ed and eventually sighed. Then I plonked myself down on the now glittering grass and waited. I looked all around and above me, tilting my head in all the directions it could possibly be tilted. The air about me was hazy with a soft glow. I was starting to get really sick of just sitting around waiting for something to happen. The sky was beginning to burn with the sunset and I was due home soon for dinner. Somehow, when the sun fell to a position that seemed to face the tree directly, it shone so blindingly I had to turn away. Behind me I saw that the light emitted from the sun had split into the biggest rainbow I had ever seen! And when the sun continued to fall, the rainbow disappeared.. and so did the wall.


Until now I don't know why that event happened to me that day. But I keep it in my heart as one of those rare magical moments you get once in your life. And as proof that I wasn't dreaming, I made sure that when I was about to go home after the sun had set that day, I didn't leave until I had grabbed a handful of those glittering things. They still spontaneously float about in the jar whenever the sun decides to fall.


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Storm | Nixon The Wanderer Backpack in Navy

The clouds that hung overhead loomed with a darkness that marked an impending storm. And before they knew it, rain had begun to fall torrentially down on the concrete. Luckily they were inside a building when it began to pour, but now they were stuck with nowhere else to turn. All the yellow cabs that flashed in the vaporous air passed without meaning to stop. And they didn't have time to wait around.. They were in the wrong building.

Looking at each other with swirled feelings of worry and panic, they hoped the other had some kind of plan. But no brilliant ideas sparked in this thunder-clapping storm. The buildings were tall enough that the lightning wouldn't portray an imminent danger. The concrete path may be slightly spotted with bits of glass or rocks, but they had to risk it. Only minutes ago they had come out of the jungle they'd lost themselves in. Their shoes were lost to the sticky mud lakes they had to cross, and their clothes already stuck to their skin from the sweat of the journey. What had started as a romantic evening in the woods had turned into one unexpected, rough adventure.

Scrunching her toes up and keeling over, she held her engorged tummy. Her face wrinkled in pain as her husband held her tightly in his arms. When she recovered, he caved her into the side of his torso and together they braved the storm until they finally reached the building they'd been searching for.

Hours later, a healthy baby girl was delivered into the arms of her mother. The father, still artfully dabbed with smidgens of dirt, looked over his two lovely ladies with great joy and relief. And as the morning sun came rising over the city, the baby girl wriggled in her wrap and looked upon her parents for the first time.


(photo via RevolveClothing.com)

Him/is/e | Vika Falileeva, Mina Cvetkovic, and Vlada Roslyakova in Giorgio Armani Spring '12

In the concert hall he sat, in the third row to the left. His hair was white and his soft face displayed a pair of thick glasses. His coat hung loosely about his figure before being thrown over the back of the seat next to him. As the opera started, he gazed upon the stage with intent eyes full of nostalgia. He listened to the voices and musical notes with ready ears and was immersed in its untouchable beauty. His wrinkled hands floated in the air to the melody with his fingers playing an invisible piano. You could almost see his veins pulsate to the beat. In his mind there was nothing that compared to that moment, when all that existed was intangible.

Two seats down, another man sat with a leg crossed over the other. His glasses were not so thick, and his hair was more or less grey. He seemed taller and leaner, with a sharp facial structure. On his lap lay a sketch book that quickly filled its pages with the faces on stage. The blunt pencil traced features admirably in aged hands. Some were beautiful, others were angry and dark. But in the end his sketches were always somehow incomplete. And when the opera ended, he shrugged on his coat and made his way straight to the exit.

As people streamed out of the hall, music softly played in the background. A man brought his daughter down to the foot of the stage, where she stepped on his toes as he danced her round. His glasses neatly rested upon a strong nose, above a smile so wide that it could endure wars. The little girl's long brown curls bounced playfully as her father waddled about. As she looked up at her father's face, sharing a dance that would not be her last, her eyes held a precious twinkle that also sparkled in the eyes of a girl whose face appeared in many sketch books and in the eyes of a girl whose instrument was going to take her places.


(photo via Vogue.com)

Strip | Model in Burberry Prorsum SS12

Box 1. Stickman 1, one hand to his face, puzzled, with a thought bubble. Within thought bubble: Love?


Box 2: Stickman 1 with a lit lightbulb above his head and raised arm.


Box 3: Stickman 1 waves at Stickman 2.


Box 4: Stickman 1 gets Stickman 2's attention. Stickman 1 with a thought bubble. Within thought bubble: ?.


Box 5: Stickman 1 still with ? thought bubble. Stickman 2 reaches into the thought bubble.


Box 6: Stickman 2 grabs hold of the ?.


Box 7: Stickman 2 whacks Stickman 1 on the head with the ?.


Box 8: Stickman 2 straightens the ? to make a !.


Box 9: Stickman 2 hands the ! to Stickman 1.


Box 10: Stickman 1, arms extended out, with a speech bubble. Within speech bubble: Love!




(photo via Vogue.com)

Bare | Jil Sander Suede Ballet Flats

The raindrops bombed the tarred road futilely, but she kept on walking. Her bare feet met each step carefully, her toes embracing the loose gravel. She stopped for a moment, body perfectly still as the rain pelted down. You could not see her face, she wouldn't let you. Then her knees bent as she came to a squat, and she placed your ring on the ground. In the moonlight, the silver gleam of the ring shone dully from oxidation. Overused and poorly maintained. (So how much was it worth now?) She picked herself up. And without anything left to do, she kept on walking. In the rain, in the dark, against the freedom she gave up for you. She moves in a vacuum, on the path to nowhere, where infinity lies. (Pick the ring up, at least.) Even though you have the ring returned, you only gained a piece of collateral. And while you stand there, waiting for a car to run you over, she will keep on walking. She will keep on walking far, far away from you, until the last thing you see is her bare heel curling off the road in the lamplight.

(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Bourgeoisie | Kenneth Jay Lane Gunmetal Octopus Ring

From the very beginning, they'll start superciliously rubbing coins in your face. Once you've been introduced, they will seem friendly and humane, and start sending you invitations to their parties. You will reject the first few because you don't want to impose, but they will keep insisting until you finally break (which you will). A car will be sent to pick you up at six o'clock, earlier than the expected time of arrival of their other guests, so they can give you a tour of their abode, their lair. And when you arrive, they will make you wait at the door, while the butler fetches them and while you admire their foyer. The grand double staircase and crystal chandeliers, that precious vase in the corner, this glittering marble floor, and over there, and more there, everywhere! the walls are covered with paintings of old. Some of their arts are unknown to you, yet you have an inkling that they are just as unknown to their owners.

Down the staircase they come, with their heels and jewels that glint in the chandelier light. You wonder for a moment about the jewels in their vault, and you imagine a great octopus swimming in the underwater trove with its suckers nesting diamonds the size of your fist. You greet each other. Their tour ensues and you immense yourself in this alien den. With each step, you melt into their waxy floors. You start walking like them, trying to match their graceful gait. You upturn your nose, curious about the ceiling that seems to glow.

The other guests arrive and dinner is served. Classical music is played by a small orchestra in the back. You sit by the head of the table. You are a guest-of-honour, they say. Because of your inscrutable intelligence, you survive the dinner talk with your mouth full. They vibrate in their velvet seats when you start your talk of beauty within. Only the clinks of china against silver cutlery are heard when they cease the inquiries of daylight robberies. After dinner, you take your leave, graciously thanking them for the invitation. They invite you again, but you say maybe. They blink at you and have the door shut when you turn away.

I might be on the street, you say, but my life is not ennuied and worth the fight to keep. Goodbye. Farewell, you bourgeoisie. This shall be the last your tentacles see of me.


(photo via my-wardrobe.com)

Responsibility | Bing Bang Concho Bracelet

She pushed open the double doors to the balcony of her Victorian mansion. The ivory chiffon curtains flowed with the welcomed wind. Her graceful gait towards the balustrade was envied by any common swan. She leaned over the balustrade and rested her palms gently against the white-painted platform, lightly brushing the dust.

The sun was warm and brought colour back to her ashen cheeks. She closed her eyes and breathed in the morning's courage. If the sun could rise once more each day after darkness took over, then so could she. But as she fingered her mother's bracelet on her virgin wrist, she doubted her abilities.

"Madame, it's time." A voice carried through the open doors. It was her gentleman-in-waiting.

She looked back at him with the naivety of a four year old. How can I handle the responsibility, her eyes seemed to say. His face became soft with wrinkles as he gave a small grin. "Come, young one." He extended his hand.

She stared at it hesitantly, but took it gratefully. Together they marched down the spiral staircase to the main foyer where the people of her land obediently bowed down. Seeing her people so eager to seek her wisdom and ask for her help, she thought back to when her mother would always ignore her intelligence. Now was the time to introduce all the wonderful ideas that had plagued her. And the first thing she was going to do was to make all these people stand up.


(photo via AnOthermag.com)

I will | A Valentine's Day Special | J. Crew Polka-Dot Silk Sleep Shirt

I will wait for you every night to come through the door. I will help you unbutton your shirt when you're sitting at the dresser brushing your hair, feeling your breasts as I do. I will clear the steam from the mirror after your shower so you can see me sneak peaks at you when you dry off. I will slither into bed next to you and kiss your face until you giggle and squeal with glee. I will stay up and chase all the demons away that try to darken your dreams. I will kiss you until you wake, before your alarm clock goes off, to see the eyes that ease this erect tail of mine. I will start missing you the moment you walk out the door. & I will repeat this every day until I die, because I  bark! you.




(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

See the Sun | Philosophy di Alberta Ferretti Paillette-Embellished Silk Dress

"In the core, hydrogen fuses together to form helium which..."

God I'm so sleepy. And hungry. 12:33. Half an hour more.. What the hell?


A flash reflected off his phone and blinded her half-closed eyes.

Ass.. Don't you know you shouldn't be texting in class. Sigh.. ...  ! Again?!


In a harsh whisper, she exclaimed "Hey! Can you please keep your phone away! It's distracting."

He twisted in his chair to face her.

"Not like you were paying attention anyway," he whispered back.

She scowled and buried her face in crossed arms. Her back rose and sunk with her breaths as she tried to take a nap. But the nap would go unslept. He used the back of his heel to kick the leg of her table, which shocked her back to the waking world. Just as she prepped a killer glare, she noticed a piece of paper at the edge of the table.

See the sun?


She looked out the window and realized that the sky was cloudy and grey. There was a slight drizzle and the sun was no where to be seen. And when she turned back to the front, he had gone.

Sunlight reached the edge of her vision and she saw the sun come out from behind the clouds. A small rainbow traced its way across the note in her hands.

"Okay, that's all for today."


(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Save Me | Eddie Borgo Rose Gold-Plated Spiked Urn Necklace

Maybe one day you'll see things my way. You'd understand why it had to end this way, even after all the shit we went through together. The guns and bullets weren't worth it anymore. And fuck all that bullshit about it being justified. It's not justified at all. I did something immoral and there's no excuse for that. How could I ever expect you to understand.. God it's just.. I wish you weren't so.. So good. It makes the guilt trip that much harder to overcome. But it's not your fault, of course. It was always my ideas that got us in trouble. My idiocy that left me with dust. I guess I'm sorry. You know I'm really not though, don't you? The jobs are more difficult without you always correcting me, feeding me the rule book. You're the real hero, you know? Guess I'm the new villain ... My ride's here. Don't mind if I take some of you with me. Maybe one day you'll save me too.




(photo via Net-A-Porter.com)

Home | Regal Rose Star Rings

His stance wavered. His feet took the tiniest of steps to and fro, trying to keep him standing, but in the end they failed to support him, and he came crashing down to his knees. Blood trickled down his chest in three streams and stained his pitch black uniform like a dark red nebula. Shadows ran across his eyes, carrying pictures of the family he abandoned for his calling. The shining silver blade fell out of his loose grip and clanged loudly against the marble floor. A pinch of a smile grabbed his cheek before he began falling to the floor.

But just as he was about to hit the ground, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head close to her chest. Saving him from the fatal impact she laid his head gently on her lap and fingered the three shuriken stars sticking out of his chest.

"I have to take these out Sen," she said.

He placed his hand weakly over hers. "They've shattered my sternum, Kina. I can feel my heart trying to escape, but this passionate monster must stay inside."

She stared at him unmoved and withdrew her hand from his. The building was on fire and her brothers and sisters were falling dead around her. But Kina remained, rock hard and stone cold.

"Look at me Kina."

She blinked and turned down to face him.

"You have to get it back Kina. Make your last move swift." He coughed and just managed to softly say, "I will see you at home," before he became absolutely still.

Gently she laid Sen's head on the ground and stood up, but only after plucking the bloody stars out of his chest. Clutching them tightly until her hands bled she bolted towards the vault, casting the stars at the remaining guards's foreheads, killing them instantly. One of her sisters had already opened the door and fell consequently. She leapt over her mangled body and dashed into the vault.

The samurai stood between her and her goal. She was ready. This was mortal combat, but their swords sliced viciously through the air. Swift, she thought. She threw her sword towards her opponent. In a flash she was at the table, hugging the pink monster tightly against her chest, and her opponent had pierced her from the back.

Tears rampaged down her cheeks, throwing out years of forgotten pain and sadness. She died, but she made it back home.


(photo via RegalRose.co.uk)