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)