float away.

photography by chinako

a lot on my mind that i'm trying to avoid at the moment.

something.

photography by Eugene Suo-Me

i think i'm going a little crazy. and i'm a little scared.

blue.

photography by Cassie Kammerzell


photography by Marcio Simnch


they'll be no one unless that someone is you / i intend to be independently blue

this very moment.

photography by inoka


"you can think about yesterday and you can become unhappy. you can think about tomorrow and you can become unhappy. but right this very moment - this throbbing, beating, real moment - can you be unhappy right now? without any past, without any future?"

sepia.

photography by mark sink

fascination.

paper flowers.

maya romanoff/amy lau design

i'm quickly becoming obsessed by everything interior design. interestingly enough, this isn't new. when i was 12 i was equally enthralled by interior design and fashion design, and couldn't decide which i'd rather do more. i have sketchbooks of furniture designs and room floor plans - at that point fashion hadn't won out as the better career choice in my mind yet. that choice happened based on the things i learned that led me to believe that as a fashion designer i would have more creative control over my designs, as opposed to an interior decorator who designed based mainly from the clients needs and tastes... of course, as i grew older it became clear that in either industry it is possible to work jobs where you have total, or no creative control.

either way, its not the only example of things that have ended up coming full circle like this. sometimes i think taking second look at some other aspects of my life between the ages of 12-16 is like reading the future, as i constantly find myself watching these things resurface in new ways, with new depth, every day.

cholera.

"With her Florentino Ariza learned what he had already experienced many times without realizing it: that one can be in love with several people at the same time, feel the same sorrow with each, and not betray any of them. Alone in the midst of the crowd on the pier, he said to himself in a flash of anger: 'My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse.'"
— Gabriel García Márquez (Love in the Time of Cholera)