poppies for grace.

i recently found the most delightful lolly-bags and other various stationary
items by 'poppies for grace'. they were so stunning i had to buy myself a pack
at pepe's paperie for $12.95 for 15 recycled paper bags.
www.poppiesforgrace.com.
check it out for other wonderful and delicate paper items.

pilates.

oh my goodness.
i took a pilates class yesterday for the first
time in ages. and i pretty much cant move
any part of my body except for my fingers
which are typing this. i didnt even realise
all my muscles could hurt at same time,
but now i know. pilates is from the devil.
not really, but seriously.

wandering.

this is my carnation.
media: just plain old pencils.
2007

Over this brave small road, the wind blows. Tree and bush are left behind, only stone and moss grow here. Nobody has anything to look for here, nobody here owns anything, up here the farmer has neither hay nor wood. But the distance beckons, longing awakens, and through rocks and swamp, snow, they have provided this good little road, which leads to other valleys, other houses, to other languages and other men.....
But I smile, and not only with my mouth. I smile with my soul, with my eyes, with my whole skin, and I offer these countrysides, whose fragrances drift up to me, different senses than those I had before, more delicate, more silent, more finely honed, better practiced, and more grateful. Everything belongs to me more than ever before, it speaks to me more richly and with hundreds of nuances. My yearning no longer paints dreamy colors across the veiled distances, my eyes are satisfied with what exists, because they have learned to see. The world has become lovelier than before.
The world has become lovelier. I am alone, and I don't suffer from my loneliness. I don't want life to be anything other than what it is. I am ready to let myself be baked in the sun till I am done. I am eager to ripen. I am ready to die. Ready to be born again.
The world has become lovelier.
excerpt from Wandering by Herman Hesse
image by me.

a wonderous look into the art of tea party-ing.

tea parties are all the rage.

location: centennial park.
when: 2.12.07.

was incredible fun, with lots of cupcakes,
turkish apple tea and jumping in underwear.

thanks to all who came.

xx.
(nb. my wonderful mother made these glorious cupcakes.)

lucid dreams.

To each other, they felt like lucid dreams. Him, with his spools of hair and she with her chopped locks and splintered eyelashes.
He picked out details from his mouth of pocketed stories, planting them as bouquets before her. She painted him unicorns and cupcakes, and other days, sketched her fragmented ideas on his newspaper.

She strung christmas lights about their grey abyss of a flat. They turned their rooms into seasons: autumn, spring, fall and summer spotted with coats of paint. They had picnics on the roof of their complex and she wrote their memoirs on the ceiling.
In her loose handwriting, she scrawled:

They had met on a pirate ship, walking the plank together without fear, as conquistadors of the horizon before them. They had found each other in pockets of posies, behind the roots of trees and in the sutures of their lips. They had discovered the other in the flourish of greens behind their fields of history one boundless day.

They grew into the last page of stories, unraveled each other's knots of tension until they were dissolved into sugar-water. She was full with her paint-speckled hands and his golden fingertips. They laid on their pile of blankets of a bed and whispered, "Let's be Bonnie and Clyde, okay? Only, we'll make it in the end."And so it was. They were scoundrels and parallels together.
*reststops.livejournal.com

bavarian sugar cookies.

“as harold took a bite of bavarian sugar cookie, he finally felt as if everything was going to be okay. sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank god for bavarian sugar cookies. and, fortunately, when there aren’t any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten danish, soft-spoken secrets, and fender stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. and we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. they are here to save our lives. i know the idea seems strange, but i also know that it just so happens to be true.”
-stranger than fiction.
*image from little-doodles.blogspot.com

Walk along here,
feel you move somewhere in front of me
I can't place you with these eyes for the doubt
I can't see

How could someone so beautiful
Feel something for me?
Hold me and love me and touch me again
And show me why I believe

That the first time I see your face
Everything else around me will fade to the background
And I'll be struck, full, by the truth in your gaze
As you work an indelible change in me

All I have and all I am and all I think and do
Can find its purpose and meaning and life only in you
- Indelible, Brooke Fraser.
*image by me

field poppy.

*image by me

sweet dreams.

Babies dream even before they're born
I wonder what they dream about,
seeing the world before life began
Does anybody want to take me away
from the city?
To the country or maybe down by the sea.
Somewhere where no one knows my name
or what I look like and we could breath real
air and we could dream like babies too.

*remains.

elephants and interuptions.

i cant stand people who interupt.

and people who think they understand you,

but in reality, they have no idea.
i really want an elephant.

*picture by lovexevol.com

something?

this one is called something that
i havnt thought of yet.

favourite things.

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,
bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens,
brown paper packages tied up with string,
these are a few of my favorite things.
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels,
door bells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles.
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings.
these are a few of my favorite things.
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,
snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes,
silver white winters that melt into springs,
these are a few of my favorite things.

maria really summed it up there.


*lovexevol.com

we wait, always.

Good morning bloggers,
here I have began my own little creative space where I can document thoughts, photography, artwork, inspirations, writings done either
by me or some more highly creative person. Think of it as, perhaps a secret window into my reverie.
Thanks for stoppping by!



this is an interesting thought.

'i was sitting in the doctors room for fourtyfive minutes with my mother before i said anything a "you know, they say you spend a third of your life waiting." she tells me not to crack my knuckles and, "sometimes for some,more."i don't want to feel calloused everyday,always two fists tightly closed and cast in ice water.here's to the days i break out. the glory days of tungsten lights and sloppy smiles, you know the ones. the sober moments of calm collected contentedness, the days where i pass the time dancing, feeling like one big exhale.
i'm waiting.always. '
- reststops.

*picture from amylia grace.