#itugraphicx

[itugraphics]

Model: BK

[itugraphics]

“I don’t flippen fear the lens, you lense head!“ - she said.

Photographer: Itumeleng Galane

Model: BK

[itugraphics]

The smell of hair is bliss. Her hair that is.

Photographer: Itumeleng Galane

Model: BK

#SomewhereInSoweto #BlueContainer #Afro

[itugraphics]

WRECK PERCEPTED!

She does not know what being treated good feels like, let alone being treated. Internally, her heart is without fingerprints but oh externally from the bosom to the waist down, fingerprints are galore. While she blatantly smiles, her interior happiness is clouded by her past sadness, failures & disappointments.

Deep scars and dark secrets lie sacred in her primary heart (which she does not use anymore), she loves with an alternative back-up heart. She alternates with different males, too many BAES in one season, but for some reason, SHE’S perfect at doing her shopping, SHE’S good at perfecting her craft, potent photography skills. SHE’S an intellect. She reads, she reasons, and does not hope to get married until her Rome is built. A builder. A visionary.

The only problem is that she perceives herself a mess, therefore she runs into a battle without the intention to fight, she starts a fire and does not wanna inhale the smoke. A wreck she perceives herself to be. She needs to be with herself, “time to be alone and self-introspect”, she says, but even with all that time she is swallowed by her own space she’s empty that the conversations she has in her mind echo in her (((((heart))))) (((eart))) ((art))...

Like shoppers and stores, her dad went in and out of her heart, in and out of her life, in and out just spoiling her rotten, and eating out with no strings attached. Now she cries inside, tearing the fat of her inside apart irrespective of the pieces of art hung on the inside I write. I write to let you know how much pain I sense whenever I’m in her presence, every word that comes out of her mouth shivers as she stutters I write. She needs saving but she don’t wanna be saved, she needs help but can’t stretch out her hand, she cries out for advice but her ears have a tendency of walking away whenever advisers approach. I write. 

I write to let you know that she perceives herself a wreck but yet she deserves the best. May God watch over her soul...I WRITE!