#colours
autumn is coming. / about two weeks back, I had a wonderful shoot in this beautiful garden - oslo, norway.
*all photos by me. flower decoration by esters hage, and calligraphy design by inaandtheolivetree.
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This isn’t one of those horribly romantic posts. This one is one that probably won’t be seen for the one that inspired it, not for some time anyway. We past the checking each other’s social ish.. lol well; most of the time.
My heart feels heavy and I feel like the things that offer me so much strength are now making less sense to me.. I look at my mother’s life and the dynamic that rests between her and my father and it breaks my spirit.
She is so accustomed to behaviour that makes me want to scream the house down. I try and be the good Indian daughter, but now my silence seeps out of me in ways I cannot control.
So I sit on a swivel leather chair in the living room, with my aunt and parents and think of you.. I feel calm and I even begin to feel a small smirk turning into a smile hanging from my lips.
I didn’t handle the situation as you would have done; I couldn’t sit and bite my tongue. Not meeing fire with fire, but dousing hatred with water the way you said I should. I didn’t do it, I lashed out and stood my ground and the antlers were coming for me. Reminding me of being young, afraid, without voice.
Things are different now; I feel a slight pang of fear but it subsides. A victory for my spirit and a coat hanger for this ego.
Ego Death has been on repeat in my car, Praise the Lord for an aux output and youtube videos on how to install your own “sounds”. Moving on, writing this I feel lighter. Knowing in a few days I will be back in the sanctuary we made together.
“[Jasmin] All you need in life is love and a cat.”
#colours #hippy #me #instapic #instadaily #picoftheday #bestoftheday #follow #like #followforfollow #
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so i smiled and tried to mean it
any other world came on shuffle during a long car ride and i had to draw oz immediately, right away, because i don’t think it’ll ever stop upsetting me
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i barely started colouring this back in the spring but i don’t think i’ll ever go back and finish it,, it seemed a shame to not post what i did get done
these kids are real cute! i look forward to finishing the series at some point
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a couple of little drawings i did while at the cottage!
charming kids from my partner’s team
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reread a bunch of pandora hearts while at the cottage! these kids love each other so much
i love them so much
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screencap redraw! i really liked the atmosphere in this scene, and it turned out very fun to draw
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![[DIAMOND EMOJI][ABS EMOJI][HEART EMOJI]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/809f56cb59ceabcb3dcceaa2970f514a/tumblr_o8y0l2UV4o1ra1vfjo1_1280.png "[DIAMOND EMOJI][ABS EMOJI][HEART EMOJI]")
She had always had the suspicion that her world was not their’s. They being everyone, each and every person with their own set of eyes, and their own set of thoughts. In the back of her mind, too far back to trouble her daily life, but close enough that when things got too quiet, when she was left too alone, it would come crawling forward. Her perception, the things she saw, she had no idea if they were the things they saw.
What made the blue she saw the blue that everyone else called calm, and tranquil, and royal? What were those adjectives, but references to the blue things in the world? The calmness and tranquility of the lake or the sky, the royalty of the blue cloth that kings and queens wore, the dye expensive, necessitating a big bank account. Why was red associated with violence and passion if not for the blood that spills out of us?
And what if that blood was green for someone, and the sky mauve? Would they not use the same words, the same associations, to describe them? And if the colours weren’t fixed, their meaning intangible, something to be entirely distrusted, then what exactly could she rely on? It was the loose thread that unwound the cardigan of the world. So she left it alone. She hid that thread in the back of her mind and tried to forget about it. An itch that would not go away.
It was lonely, to have such a thought. To bear the knowledge of perception, even if she tried to unknow such a thing. Everyone else was in the same situation, of course, but they were blissfully unaware, sauntering down pavements, waving at taxis. They didn’t know that that taxi could be a lurid pink, that the road was a desperate turquoise. It made her feel woozy.
“Stop. It doesn’t matter.” He’d clasped his hands around hers, and pressed his lips to her forehead. And she’d tried to pull away, her skin feeling alien, trying to get away from herself. He’d held her, forced her to be still, and hushed her.
“It doesn’t matter.” Another kiss against her forehead.
“It doesn’t matter.” Another. She looked up at him. Her eyes swam. A tear got free and made a break for it, fleeing down her cheek. He caught it with his lips.
“It doesn’t matter.” He whispered against her face, and, for a moment, she believed him.
He squeezed her hand, and their eyes met. He smiled.
“Only this matters.” This time, the belief stuck.
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