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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

message home

message home
Originally uploaded by
Abstract Magdalene.

I feel like sending a message home, lighting little smoky fires to tell everyone I'm ok. An old version of mass emailing. It's interesting, sometimes distressing at how well I've isolated myself. I think also, that speaks to the degrees of friendship I had once had. They must have been surface relationships that proved to be too flimsy for life's little surprises. I don't know why that surprises me, at all. It's easy to lay the blame in my corner. I'm told that's because I take it. In my mind, why fight over what's broken anyway?

It takes a stronger person than I, to love me.

Supposed to be sleeping, I awoke a little while ago. Haunting Flickr and scrutinising my images for flaws I hadn't noticed before. No photographs for a couple of days, insomnia robbed my eyes of the colours I wanted to see. I did pick up some photo frames that I actually plan on filling this week. Sometime. It's difficult to decide what to print when I have more than 10,000 photos lingering in this hard drive. I had an idea of cramming every inch of wall space with photographs. But that's unlikely to happen. Putting nails in the walls for photographs feels like I'm pledging to stay here. Stay in London. Stay on this planet.

And I guess I'm just not sure if that is going to happen. Nothing is predictable, at this point.

I hate when my horoscope says I should stay in the house. Makes the day have a shade of impending doom, even though I don't put a lot of stock on horoscopes. It's something that I read when I read the paper. Which I guess, is every day. Ok, I guess I read them almost every day.

A late dinner with a friend tomorrow evening, coffee with someone else and maybe a visit with Number 1 and my little tiny, nephew. I don't know.

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