i NEED this shirt, tommorow i am hoping to find a peace-signed shirt, its such a versatile piece dont you think?
pics from
chicheroine.blogspot.com
and
bohememusings.blogspot.com
update: i found absolutely nothing! i'm thinking of taking my own white shirt and DIY-away! hmm maybe not such a bad idea..:D
Wednesday 29 April 2009
ace of spades part deux
Tuesday 28 April 2009
ace of spades
mister blue sky
My friend and i made some photo's a couple of weeks ago which i totally forgot to put up here so, with a delay of over 2 weeks i present to you: a lazy sunday in the netherlands. and i was wearing my new grey coat-thing which i bought at h&m, its size L and i usually adore oversized,although i'm still not sure about this one
.
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Monday 27 April 2009
chloring out
tommorow, i am going to, finally, bleach my jeans! something i have been wanting to do for a very very long time. so, i have read about 10.000 DIY articles about how bleaching your jeans is exactly done and i came to the conclusion: just take the damn chlorine and work it. and if it doesn't work out i can always throw the jeans away right? i'm hoping for the balmain effect and not like some bird just pooped all over it
Saturday 25 April 2009
Tuesday 21 April 2009
my voice
Within this restless, hurried, modern world
We took our hearts' full pleasure - You and I,
And now the white sails of our ship are furled,
And spent the lading of our argosy.
Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,
For very weeping is my gladness fled,
Sorrow has paled my young mouth's vermilion,
And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.
But all this crowded life has been to thee
No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell
Of viols, or the music of the sea
That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.
by oscar wilde
We took our hearts' full pleasure - You and I,
And now the white sails of our ship are furled,
And spent the lading of our argosy.
Wherefore my cheeks before their time are wan,
For very weeping is my gladness fled,
Sorrow has paled my young mouth's vermilion,
And Ruin draws the curtains of my bed.
But all this crowded life has been to thee
No more than lyre, or lute, or subtle spell
Of viols, or the music of the sea
That sleeps, a mimic echo, in the shell.
by oscar wilde
Monday 20 April 2009
Sunday 19 April 2009
Friday night
Spring!
When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he:
“Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!” O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he:
“Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!” O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.
W. Shakespeare- Love's Labors Lost
Saturday 18 April 2009
Friday 17 April 2009
Charles Baudelaire
À une passante.
La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.
Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,
Une femme passa, d'une main fastueuse
Soulevant, balançant le feston et l'ourlet ;
Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.
Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,
Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l'ouragan,
La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.
Un éclair... puis la nuit ! - Fugitive beauté
Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,
Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité ?
Ailleurs, bien loin d'ici ! trop tard ! jamais peut-être !
Car j'ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,
Ô toi que j'eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais !
From: les fleurs du mal.
Translation:
In Passing.
The traffic roared around me, deafening!
Tall, slender, in mourning - noble grief -
a woman passed, and with a jewelled hand
gathered up her black embroidered hem;
stately yet lithe, as if a statue walked . . .
And trembling like a fool, I drank from eyes
as ashen as the clouds before a gale
the grace that beckons and the joy that kills.
Ligthening . . . then darkness! Lovely fugitive
whose glance has brought me back to life! But where
is life - not this side of eternity?
Elsewhere! Too far, too late, or never at all!
Of me you know nothing, I nothing of you - you
whom I might have loved and who knew that too!
La rue assourdissante autour de moi hurlait.
Longue, mince, en grand deuil, douleur majestueuse,
Une femme passa, d'une main fastueuse
Soulevant, balançant le feston et l'ourlet ;
Agile et noble, avec sa jambe de statue.
Moi, je buvais, crispé comme un extravagant,
Dans son oeil, ciel livide où germe l'ouragan,
La douceur qui fascine et le plaisir qui tue.
Un éclair... puis la nuit ! - Fugitive beauté
Dont le regard m'a fait soudainement renaître,
Ne te verrai-je plus que dans l'éternité ?
Ailleurs, bien loin d'ici ! trop tard ! jamais peut-être !
Car j'ignore où tu fuis, tu ne sais où je vais,
Ô toi que j'eusse aimée, ô toi qui le savais !
From: les fleurs du mal.
Translation:
In Passing.
The traffic roared around me, deafening!
Tall, slender, in mourning - noble grief -
a woman passed, and with a jewelled hand
gathered up her black embroidered hem;
stately yet lithe, as if a statue walked . . .
And trembling like a fool, I drank from eyes
as ashen as the clouds before a gale
the grace that beckons and the joy that kills.
Ligthening . . . then darkness! Lovely fugitive
whose glance has brought me back to life! But where
is life - not this side of eternity?
Elsewhere! Too far, too late, or never at all!
Of me you know nothing, I nothing of you - you
whom I might have loved and who knew that too!
Thursday 16 April 2009
Tuesday 14 April 2009
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