Sunday 12 September 2010

Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.














Ragnhild Jevne, Dioni Tabbers and Margaryta Senchylo photographed by Azim Haidaryan for Velvet, October 2009

It's getting a little colder and I'm feeling distinctly autumnal and forest-y. 

But other than that, I'm also feeling guilty. 
Once again, I've been horribly neglectful and inconsistent with posts. But this isn't exactly unusual, is it? I am neglectful and inconsistent. Always. It's like being born ginger or getting a really bad tattoo. I'm just stuck with it.

When I was little, from about the age of six, I loved the idea of having a diary. I wanted to be that girl that writes every single day about all the exciting things that have happened to her. Of course nothing hugely exciting happened to me when I was six, and if anything remotely interested came up, I wanted to be off doing it rather than writing about it in a pretty notebook. And I had a million pretty notebooks. All with about two diary entries in them, before I got bored or gave up and wanted to start over again in another pretty notebook. 

And evidently, not much has changed. Now I have a pretty blog, instead of a pretty notebook. 

And I manage to sit still and write just about as often as I did when I was six.

No comments:

Post a Comment