sorry about the phone call. and needing you. some decisions you don't make. i guess its just like breathing. but not wanting to. there is something's you can't fake.

it feels like i never learn,

i swim in the same circle.

paddling to keep the absolute crazy at bay.

repeat the pattern, 

treat every person as if they where the last person.

phone at midnight. 

begging.

hoping that you are actually the last person,

threatening. 

to put an end to this pattern. 

you couldn't be saved. 

(how attractive it can be to think you can save somebody else by loving them?)

and it damn near killed me. again. 

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anxious.

on the night i die, 

i swear i'll sleep outside your window. 

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it tastes like holiday.

craving the taste of summer holiday.

i read that the two most beautiful words in the english language is "summer afternoon"

summer afternoon. 

craving the taste of sun on my skin.

the salty aftermath sticking to my body.

sea sand in my bed, an almost nostalgic, irritating itch. 

the infinity of blue.

***photos by neil krug. 

See the full gallery on Posterous

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dad...ek weet...

hi dad,

ek weet ek vra deesdae vir baie boeke. sal pa dalk hierdie ene ook bestel as pa weer boeke bestel dit sal die gaafste wees.

http://www.kalahari.com/books/Office-Girl/632/42990364.aspx

baie dankie,

merikericks tricks. 

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scale of wholes.

a while ago MS MR released a song "hurricane",

a music video of tumblr-esque gorgeousness, and a song that sends shivers.

i found a slammin mixtape on their soundcloud page, bam! its magic. 

and an appropriate sunday soundtrack. (haim, phantogram, beach house, alt-j all included...yum!) 

 

* image by micheal light. 

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crossed.

Lost again
Lost again
One day I know
Our Paths will Cross again
Smile again 
Smile again
One day I hope 
To make you smile again
I won't hide

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