Monday, 21 July 2014

A Feme May Come, Leaf-green

You dweller in the dark cabin, 
To whom the watermelon is always purple,
Whose garden is wind and moon,

Of the two dreams, night and day,
What lover, what dreamer, would choose
The one obscured by sleep?





Wearing silk top D.E.P.T, old Stefanel pants, Valentino slingback


Excerpt "Hymn from a Watermelon Pavillion" by Wallace Stevens
                                                                
                                                                                                       
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Sunday, 13 July 2014

Street Preacher

"Do you know me like they know me there
My friends out there on the horizon
You see things like me we're never free





Wearing old Zara skirt and heeled sandals, fringed topdouble pearlear cuff, purse Candybag

                                                                                                 
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Friday, 4 July 2014

A Quiet Light

The ghostly whiteness in the absence of colour has always been connected to the blankness of darkness in what I feel as profound and concrete way. Somehow echoing "An Old Man's Winter Night" and how Robert Frost dramatises the existential human plight through the persona of an old man portrayed unable to orient himself within a totally incomprehensible and sinister cosmos, I too dressed up my own spiritual powerlessness in white. 
The voiceless stranger drifting away is embodied by the white shirt within a world of fragmented setting that disrupts all efforts to structure and synthesise life. 
The man pants are suggestive of two lampposts that designate man's vain intention to illuminate darkness.  
The remaining paraphernalia of bag and shoes can only justify the pathetic human attempt to comprehend and rationalise life's mysteries. 
In other words, accoutrements manipulated as poetic resources to articulate philosophical meaning (?). English majors, make merry. 



Wearing full white look, Celine Trio bag, Valentino shoes



                                                                                                 
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Saturday, 28 June 2014

Disappearer

Looking out I'm back in, time to stay
Into the eastern, silent way 
Comes alive through, through and clearer
Ghost arise to, dirty mirror




Photography A Pink Moon Camera

Wearing Sonic Youth T-shirt, leather skirt, custom made heels last seen here, LOST Surf Naked cap 


                                                                                                 
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Saturday, 21 June 2014

Drain You

With eyes so dilated,
I've become your pupil
You've taught me everything
Without a poison apple
The water is so yellow, I'm a healthy student
Indebted and so grateful -



Wearing oversized shirt, skinny jeans, slingback rockstud Valentino in poudre

                                                                                               
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Friday, 13 June 2014

Black Rebel

"Monkey see, monkey do
I don't know why I'd - rather be dead than cool"

Kurt never missed the point not even that one time when he pointed a gun at himself. I never fully digested the "better to burn out than to fade away" part, but with pretty much all the rest I wholeheartedly concur. Going back to the truth of that pillar phrase above which resonates wildly on so many levels, I must admit that coolness was never my thing. I've always been the weirdo but in a real subtle way. Diying my black Dr Martins to pastel pink was probably the monumental act of rebellion teen angst has forced me towards and calling my best friend Scully while watching X-Files+eating peaches has been one of my finest moments. Easily I could find that nothing impressed me much and the way of optimistic nihilism had been paved since the time dad had handed over what I now call  the first dystopian novel read by my keen fourteen year old eyes. How can nihilism be optimistic is so much more than a humorous paradox but that is another matter altogether. Now, the oppressively cool people exist everywhere. I admire their vigour and spirited enthusiasm when all I really feel is restrained composure except when for example I run into a stray cat that meows knowingly, when my rose jasmine blooms fragrant and Sloth's love proclaiming meaty kiss to Chunk scene comes on. Again, what Kurt said. Rather be dead than cool.  







Wearing top vintage Chloé, culottes Asos, leather clutch alternative here, espadrilles similar here

                                                                                               
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Monday, 9 June 2014

Metropolis

Outside the "machine rooms" of the ruthless vast Metropolis, wearing a dress with cuboid prints and eclectic florals, patient to meet the maschinenmensch. The dystopia of urbanity conquers the dreadful summer heat within an ominous grey of concrete perspiring sick drizzle. Vain anticipation for the arrival of someone who is intrinsically transparent, and deliberately misleads.  " A vague supplication." 


Wearing dress Preen, pumps Céline, leather cloud clutch similar here


                                                                                             
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Cloudline Chic Flows is a blog about self consciously deconstructed reformist mannered elegance, swings, distant sound of dogs barking at sunset, smell of freshly cut lawn, peaches at dusk, long walks on dusty country streets,perennial drives, cupcakes, pylons, echo of empty classrooms, 1997, the dream, suburbs,treehouses,flying in sleep, ice-cubes, wooden fences at noon,birdies, peoplespotting, cicadas in summer yard, absurd subversive poetry, singing alone, keep self at home, cats and straight highways.