Every morning when I wake up, I can only think of two things:
♥ birds singing (in the Sycamore tree)
♥ the atmosphere in Spell by The Belles of the Black Diamond Field
I am craving Spring. I want lace, I want pastels, I want bare legs, I want ankle socks in my sandals. I want to lie down in the grass reading, I want to linger outside till the sun is out, I want to smell the sweet sweet smell of life slowly crawling back in the trees and under the grass. I want to sit on my sofa at 6 and be blinded by the setting sun, I want to hear people in the street late at night wandering home in a stupor. I want to have picnics in the forest and I want to travel.
When I go to get dressed, all I see myself in is this:
I cannot stand my Winter clothes anymore. I am living in denial. I refuse to still wear boots. I wear brogues with sheepskin insoles. I don’t want to wear thick jumpers, I wear my denim jacket/leather jacket under my coat. I leave my gloves at home and just put my hands in my pockets. Winter is not happening anymore in my world. You hear that, Winter?
Fuck you Winter, I have seen enough of you.
I have a slight problem though: I live in London. So Spring won’t be here properly for another two months. In the meantime, I will have to make do with this:
On a positive note, I had a dream vision of the bow tattoo I have been plotting for the past 4 years, so I think it might be time to get it done.