Desolee

Je ne peux plus rien ecrire

L’encre s’epuise

La derniere nuit

Dans le ciel,

J’ai ecrit ton nom

Monday Feb 2 @ 12:25pm

sartorial:

On the Street….Nicola, Florence

Simply stunning

Growing Up

When did you realise that you no longer have any problem reaching the bathroom sink? Or reaching the handle of the door? Or pressing the switch of the lamp? And when did you realise that your feet touch the ground when you sit on the chair? The days you always wanted to sit on the front seat on the car, but instead, you are told to sit on the back, with your babysitter, handkerchief in her hand, to clean up your silly little nose? Always carrying the stupid toy which you naively believed was alive, in your hand; which you might have just forgotten about now. The days you always thought your mother smelled the best whenever she gets dressed, and you still believe in that right now, probably. The days your parents thought you were the best kids in the world, and you thought the world revolved around you. The way you thought you were the lead role actor, with the whole world as the studio, with other kids as companions, some others as enemies, the grownups as the villains. You were gifted. You were talented. You were the outstanding, smart, pioneering—goddamned it—respected kids in the neighbourhood your parents were proud to have. But slowly, every single kid was becoming increasingly outstanding, smart, pioneering, and respected; as time passed. The realisation that you are not special, not a unique snowflakes, began to strike you. Your confidence shattered, you grew weak-heartedly, lazily, powerless, just let things pass the way they just would.

That’s me.

One of my favourite scene in Before Sunset :’)

Saturday Oct 10 @ 09:31am

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