i've been sleeping so strange at night, with a head full of pesticides.

it's all part of the metamorphosis, they say.
the crazed art at midday,
the pain rolling down my chest in salt water form.


if i can't feel you, i desperately need to know you're there.
doing something. anything.

it's just that all my friends are falling in love, a.k.a. two people and that feels like everyone.

six // fifty two

"Is this what our trip will be like? A long series of endings?"

Nina LaCour

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i really like this self portrait, for some reason.
in a technical sense, it's a few days late--but i have a good excuse. (in the process of our move, i somehow managed to lose my camera charger. (what?) so i had to wait until i could borrow dakota's charger. which is lame. but whatever--a photographer's gotta do what they gotta do.)
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it was morning, every one else was gone from the house. the light diffused through the side window was beautiful and impossible to not make use of, so i set up my tripod and self-timer, and snapped this. lately i've been experimenting a lot with film look, and so i added some film flare in post-processing. thoughts, anyone?
xx.

tiny perfect moments

i've had four perfect moments tonight. i can't even count the ones from earlier today. funny thing is, all these perfect moments aren't perfect to them. this is everyday normal, and they can't appreciate it, at least not the way i do. i swear to never forget this time in my life, where a simple late-night conversation, held while sprawled on living room couches, tired but relaxed, constitutes perfection. maybe sometime this will become my normal too, but when that happens i never, ever want to take it for granted simply because it stares me in the face.
the first perfect moment tonight was eating chicken/bacon/pepper pizza around the kitchen bar while people, little and older, laughed and joked and grabbed seconds.
the second perfect moment was stepping into the dark, snowy woods, all bundled up fat in coats and mittens and scarves and ski pants and hats, as we walked the first four steps of our late night snow trail adventure. the snow on the path was fresh and untrodden;  more was falling thick and fast.
the third perfect moment was the one i already mentioned, when scott, abi, zoe, and i came in, tired and aching. (well, at least i was.) we plopped down in the livingroom where deb was, and talked lazily for a little while about everything and anything.
the fourth perfect moment is right now--this very second. i'm half laying/half sitting on the bed in ema's old room, propped up by pillows and surrounded by so many warm blankets. i'm writing and listening to a playlist i made on spotify called "bon nuit." right now it's playing palmistry by the great lake swimmers. it's late, just about midnight, and everyone is sleeping quietly. this could be no more beautiful and perfect. 
...
this is what I wrote tonight, exactly as I penned it in my journal. this is me, real and honest, writing exactly how i do when i'm unencumbered by any sort of blogging standard. it's quite the exercise in the authentic, the heartfelt, the sincere. i feel hesitant, as though revealing and even reveling in potential flaws will dash everything i've built to the ground. that's entirely untrue, but really, this is just showing me my own insecurities, and how i care too much about what other people think, and too little about expressing who i really am.
xx.

clementines.

i haven't done a still life or a diptych in a long time, so i thought i'd do both.
xx.