Jul 27, 2014
For me, language is a freedom. As soon as you have found the words with which to express something, you are no longer incoherent, you are no longer trapped by your own emotions, by your own experiences; you can describe them, you can tell them, you can bring them out of yourself and give them to somebody else. That is an enormously liberating experience, and it worries me that more and more people are learning not to use language; theyโ€™re giving in to the banalities of the television media and shrinking their vocabulary, shrinking their own way of using this fabulous tool that human beings have refined over so many centuries into this extremely sensitive instrument. I donโ€™t want to make it crude, I donโ€™t want to make it into shopping-list language, I donโ€™t want to make it into simply an exchange of information: I want to make it into the subtle, emotional, intellectual, freeing thing that it is and that it can be.
Jeanette Winterson
Jul 27, 2014
pink meets pink

pink meets pink

Jul 27, 2014
licking up the salty breeze at Venice beach

licking up the salty breeze at Venice beach

Jul 26, 2014
HAIR

HAIR

Jul 26, 2014
makeshift: avocado seed incense holder ; basil “plant” in a jar

makeshift: avocado seed incense holder ; basil “plant” in a jar

Jul 25, 2014
When I was 16, I spent a summer in Fivemiletown, Northern Ireland. I slept on a military cot in the parish hall of an Anglican Church. That summer I met Amanda, who was 18 at the time. We cut each other’s hair, played music together (she, violin; I, piano), and ate banoffee pie.

After that summer, she decided not to go to college and moved to Northern Ireland permanently from Doylestown, Pennsylvania. We kept in touch, wrote letters, emails.

On the cusp of her 21st birthday, she asked me to write the word “free” and connect it to a tree, which she ended up tattooing on her wrist.

Five years later, I finally get to see the tattoo, AND her 4-month-old girl Acacia Poppy. A sweet reunion for friends kept apart by oceans for way too long.

When I was 16, I spent a summer in Fivemiletown, Northern Ireland. I slept on a military cot in the parish hall of an Anglican Church. That summer I met Amanda, who was 18 at the time. We cut each other’s hair, played music together (she, violin; I, piano), and ate banoffee pie.

After that summer, she decided not to go to college and moved to Northern Ireland permanently from Doylestown, Pennsylvania. We kept in touch, wrote letters, emails.

On the cusp of her 21st birthday, she asked me to write the word “free” and connect it to a tree, which she ended up tattooing on her wrist.

Five years later, I finally get to see the tattoo, AND her 4-month-old girl Acacia Poppy. A sweet reunion for friends kept apart by oceans for way too long.

Jul 24, 2014
Meet Acacia Poppy, the sweetest little doll ๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’›

Meet Acacia Poppy, the sweetest little doll ๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’›๐Ÿ’›

Jul 22, 2014
workin’ real hard

workin’ real hard

Jul 22, 2014
today we celebrate the life of one of the most beautiful souls I know. Love you and happy birthday Crystal Jones!

today we celebrate the life of one of the most beautiful souls I know. Love you and happy birthday Crystal Jones!

Jul 21, 2014
nook life

nook life

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