When tram-crying becomes quite exhausting, happiness wanes and conversations fade, I'm curling myself up in a warm blanket, humming a wordless ton while playing ukulele so quietly.
It's kinda strange to celebrate sadness in that way, trying so hard to be a part time adult.
I came down to the moment when i doubted poetry and all those things I had been believing for a thousand years.
All ive got now is a pack of cigarettes and a cup of hot milk. I call it perfection.
fot. Zofia & Lukas
I'm not really sure if those photos are 'fashion' enough ahhahaha but anyway