it looks like when life gets wild, the blog gets quiet, right? I've been travelling around and mostly living out of the suitcase for the past seven months, always jumping on a train or in a car to new places, new people and new views outside of the window. these days, I am packing my bags for another time, and this time the direction leads home. I find it to be a little strange, the word, now because I've been growing roots so fast wherever I went I feel like I could live anywhere, the world has become my home. I found that it really didn't matter much where I had my rose petal tea, read a book or wrote down my thoughts and it doesn't hurt wearing the same dresses over and over again because they're the only things you brought in your bag and they're becoming part of the adventure.
but it is lovely to think of coming back to the wooden floors I abandoned a long time ago, the chandelier, the mint-coloured typewriter, the air that might still smell of lavender inscence sticks. it's where we'll play music and dance and have tea and glasses of wine and cook vegetarian curries and make up our own poems sitting on the floor and get lost telling the stars our dreams at night.
this weekend, the boy and I strolled around a fleamarket and got snapped- I found a beautiful rosary for meditation and a purse and old lady used to keep her pennies in. I love how seethrough my dress is, it makes me feel like the girl from the fairy-tale that is challenged to come to the king undressed but not naked. the dress is by romwe, in case you wondered.
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