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Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

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the secret garden

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In the process of getting everyone to like me, i end up hating myself.

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By Antonio Frasconi, from a hand-printed book.

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I think arts funding should be infinite and easily available to everyone. I think 13 year olds who only draw anime should receive funding to buy giant sets of copic markers and shitty local punk bands should receive funding for instruments and practice spaces and performance artists should receive funding for their weird and nonsensical projects

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I need these in my flat asap. And then we can have wine and poetry nights and paint -But it has to be with these vases in the background! I won’t accept anything less

Frederick Judd Waugh, Rum Row, 1922, oil on board

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I had a dream where a slightly younger Snape was wearing black skintight pants with a leather shirt and was absolutely making it rain with his slutty dance moves.

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from the found grocery lists collection

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dream 1.4.23

We had a book with pages made out of different flavour breads. Me and my flatmate were just tearing pieces off each “page” and eating it. 

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Take me to my other half right now!

View from the Artist’s Window, c. 1825. Martinus Rørbye (Danish, 1803–1848)

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the sky is falling...

Just storm in a Canada

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I forgot to mention that the day I saw her last, I wore one of the blouses she gave to me. I wanted to look and feel pretty when I saw her because I knew she always had impeccable taste and style at my age.

It is a frilly neck collared blouse, done up with a string in a bow with buttons down the centre. A light patterned mesh with purples and blue hues with a pretty blue lining. I wore it with my long checkered flares since the blue checks tied them together.

When mum saw me, she looked shocked. Apparently there is a photo of Grandma wearing this shirt for one of her wedding anniversaries, where she is also wearing checkered pants. They (mum and dad, plus myself included) thought it was amazing how similar we looked. And uncanny that I chose to wear the combo given I had never seen that photo before!! Very weird.

But also meant to be. <3

with love

I saw my Grandma for the last time on Sunday morning. The 26th of March to be precise. 

She is 93 year old. I am yet to hear once she has passed, but it will be soon. Probably in the next couple of days or so. 

I said my goodbyes to her in the rest home. She looked cozy underneath all those layers of wool. Blankets I recognised easily from my childhood, come out of storage to provide warmth again to her dying form. 

Keep reading

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with love

I saw my Grandma for the last time on Sunday morning. The 26th of March to be precise. 

She is 93 year old. I am yet to hear once she has passed, but it will be soon. Probably in the next couple of days or so. 

I said my goodbyes to her in the rest home. She looked cozy underneath all those layers of wool. Blankets I recognised easily from my childhood, come out of storage to provide warmth again to her dying form. 

I hope she is comfortable. The doctors assured us that the drugs they are administering into her will allow her to pass as if she is falling asleep. I hope she is warm. I hope she feels better. I hope she falls into rest peacefully.

A few tears escaped by accident. I thought I was ready. I was. But I must have had some extra things to process before she was gone for good. 

Crazy how with just a little touch and a circumstance can cause such old memorise to resurface at lightning speed. It was time for us to go; my sisters, my mum and dad, me. I caressed her thin grey strands and her forehead with the back of my hand. I rubbed and soothed her tired arms, ever so delicately. I didn’t hold her hand even when Dad told me to. She looked too comfortable and her hands were curled together under the blankets. I made a note not to disturb them. 

Suddenly I was transported back to the house up the hill in Redwood Avenue. Grandma and I always had a special bond. We liked the same things. The colour blue, our favourite, although trivial and meaningless. It meant a lot to me. We both had a thing for sweets, but lemon curd was our weakness, and lucky for us Grandma always had a full little jar of it in the fridge whenever we came to visit! We’d eat it by the spoon straight out of the container. She had the best (authentic) recipes for shortbread, and unsurprisingly, lemon cake. Grandma was a keen cook too and never failed to produce a good and proper roast. I remember the smell of their old house where we would spend Christmas as a family. They had a brilliant large old fashioned Grandfather clock which took pride of place in the living room. It’s been there since my sisters and I were tiny tots. Most likely before we could crawl. We spent hours in that house playing Ludo and Old Maid. Grandma always hated Old Maid because she would lose the most out of us all. But even when she lost, she’d bubble with laughter, and it was so epically contagious that we’d all double over in fits of giggles. Me and my sisters LOVE to laugh. I think we got that from our lovely Grandma who was never afraid to laugh at herself every once in a while. 

I felt calm in the rest home. The tears were falling but I was content. I knew she lived a full life and all the way Grandad was with her too. He’s doing very well currently, but I understand he must be struggling right now. We are all effectively playing the waiting game at this point. But just like Grandma, Grandad is strong and still smiling with our company. 

We left Grandma’s room and took Grandad with us for coffee at the rest home cafe. He is doing the best he can and so are the rest of us. We are well, and thankfully, we all know what to expect and I suppose that is all we can ask for when things like this arise. The saying ‘all good things must come to an end’ has been attached to my thoughts since. I’m taking it as a positive, for you can’t fully appreciate something until it is well and truly gone. 

We said we would be back to see Grandad again soon and made our way back to the car. All of us sat there for a bit listening to the radio. The song ‘You’ve Got A Friend’ by Carole King was playing. Mum started singing along. So did I. 

Keep your head together

And call my name out loud,

Soon, you’ll hear me knocking at your door

You just call out my name

And you know wherever I am

I’ll come running, running

To see you again

I wanted to write this because I have been preparing for her passing for a while now. Her name is Doreen, and she has had a long, beautiful and fulfilling life. I am grateful I got to spend so much time with her and cherish every single memory we have together. 

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kiss me hard enough to invert me

Yves Olade, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Nickie Zimov, Carmen Tyrrell, Stefano Dania, Edvard Munch, Angelica Alzona

buy me a coffee

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corset

I just love how it makes me stand up a little taller, straighter. But you don't feel incredibly like a ruler because you’ve got this big billowing skirt around you! And you can feel the dress’ edgings fluttering around your ankles as you walk.

It’s an absolutely delicious feeling.

I understand why men envy us sometimes <3

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Head of a Dead Young Man (version two) by Theodore Gericault