The smell of burnt egg reminds me of all the mistakes I've ever made, I ponder, and all the mistakes I am still to make.I remove the pan from the heat and examine the promise of life I had robbed of its value as even a culinary delight.
That was just one of the moments from the past few days when I have gone from doing something considered by many as a simple task, to unintentionally confronting myself with problems better left until after eating an omelette.
I love this skirt to smithereens. I mean it in all honesty. It's my favourite item of clothing I have ever owned. And if you ask anyone who sees me on a regular basis they will confirm I wear it to smithereens too.
The shoes are metallic Zara bad-boys which have been an extension of my legs on special days since before I left for Singapore. They are utterly beautiful. A sweet spanish shop assistant removed the final size thirtyeights from the shop mannequin for me. When it's sunny, the light reflects off them so it feels like you're walking on disco balls.
T-shirt (temporary DIYed): Annika and Topshop (ich bringe es dir heute mit, habs in Kroatien ausversehen eingepackt!),
Earrings and sunnies and anklet: Topshop
I'm also wearing Shanghai Spice by Mac (as if you can actually see)
Keep your eyes peeled, because I have something planned. As it is proving above averagely difficult to find a specific Neutral Milk Hotel song to end this with on YouTube, here is an indie oldie. Sweet sentiment. But I dig talking over dancing at least 6.5 times out of 10.