seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Algeria
seen from China
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Algeria
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Italy
seen from Japan
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from China
inara
Scraps of stolen peace as everyone buzzes around you, frenzy chaos organised to perfection. Harsh florescent light, whispers of embroidery on silk on skin, going through hair colours at an dizzying rate. Polaroids. Glitter clinging onto you like a second skin; feet in high heels as you stalk through the air, knowing that everybody’s eyes are on you.
lysander
Riding the U-bahn for hours straight with nothing but smudged eyeliner and somebody else’s jeans, lips bitten blue. Pre-Soviet power plants, pharmacological experimentation, cult clubs, spraying touristen anzünden with stolen paint. Nothing is glamorous here, but neither are you; some were born special, but you were chosen to be the reincarnation of your city’s history— militant, chaotic, raw.
Zoë.
Fillet fish on snow, properly gutted, entrails already eaten. Thin hands made heavy with silver and copper and crude semi-precious gems, catching the moonlight. Always drinking lavender whisky in the morning. Layer upon layer of lace tapestries, tarot cards that only you can read, stolen cemetery angels. Horse musk, cigarette air.
Alex vs Alexandra
Alex:the dream distillery up North calls to you; Città Fantasma, a smoky haze. pushing plush figs against your teeth, blood in porcelain sink, lighting the way with a cigarette. one leg out of the spires, ready to fall. the winged lion, eroded by years of your sister’s rain.Alexandra:a breathing, sinking, dying city. pale water so smooth that reflections on it are like glass; pearls and diamanté finger rings, eyes rimmed with liquid silver. impenetrable mist above the sea. we would gently hold your face in our hands, if not of our fear that we might bleed.
Audrey.
Drinking wine in a cinémathèque, never sleeping before 1 am, walking down cobbled streets like the coming of a goddess. Stripping in Le Marais, sneaking a smoke during lunchtime; your mother tells you to pull your skirt down. Thrift stores and jazz clubs are your church as you head there for confession.
blue
Crossed legs on the T-bana, carefully holding your coffeecup so that nobody knows vodka is inside. Postmodernist neon signs behind sheets of steel and glass; Acne jeans, Acne boots. Silver hair more white than purple, mouth of acerbic wit. Temperature that never rises above 20 degrees c, all year around.
alessandra :)
The White Towns of Andalusia mentally painted in blue, cracking thin ice in spring, running your tongue over the crowns of neat teeth. Bleeding charcoal, sulfur and potassium nitrate monthly, but never on the 10th. Nails bitten to the quick; fortresses instead of beaches. The museum guards at del Prado knows you by name.
eleanor <3
that perfect cup of tea only mothers can make, proper literature that everybody needs. sighing on thursday nights, when you’re up too late and the moon isn’t out yet. glass greenhouses in the backyard, scuffed shoes in the schoolyard, cold showers in the hotel room. laddered stockings, but you like them ripped anyway.
