At the breakfast table.
Miri breaths like an old woman. Like our downstairs neighbor. Heavily and uneven. With no beat. Possibly like a rhythm closer to jazz than the swan lake. In front of us, two half full bottles of plum wine. Miri grabs one, empties it. I struggle with my coffee. The wine made it to sweet, but we dont have any milk. Whats a girl to do.
Dinner last night, the old woman went on and on about her roof. Our shower still running upstairs. There is no explanation to why we wont shut it of. I stopped taking showers ages a go. I hate the sound of water running.
Miri almost fell a sleep in the middle of a sentence. The old woman had crazy red hair and offered us long island drinks stronger than the ones Louis used to make me. She told us about her Hollywood career, about her wealthy husbands, about her modeling and all the money she married into and left with. She made sure we ate a lot, forced foie gras on us until we begged for mercy.
Miri is staring out the window now, not knowing that she is the most beautiful in a straight forward angle. I need to let last night go. I need to get out of my dress. Black of course, I had a feeling last night was a funeral of some sort.
Dinner last night, the old woman went on and on about her roof. Our shower still running upstairs. There is no explanation to why we wont shut it of. I stopped taking showers ages a go. I hate the sound of water running.
Miri almost fell a sleep in the middle of a sentence. The old woman had crazy red hair and offered us long island drinks stronger than the ones Louis used to make me. She told us about her Hollywood career, about her wealthy husbands, about her modeling and all the money she married into and left with. She made sure we ate a lot, forced foie gras on us until we begged for mercy.
Miri is staring out the window now, not knowing that she is the most beautiful in a straight forward angle. I need to let last night go. I need to get out of my dress. Black of course, I had a feeling last night was a funeral of some sort.
And today, well the feeling remains.
Outfit
Dress Yves Saint Lauren
Straightjacket with black pearls
Mood: morbid
16 comments:
water still running, sounds like you're saving up for a flood of some sort. Are you planing to drown us all?
its great!
x,noihsafmoi
Lovely post. Thank you for finding me so I can find you in teturn.
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<3
Foie gras makes me want to vomit up everything I've ever eaten. Ever.
But I love your writing. Completely.
pls dont degenerate to a fashion blog. your outfits always looked expensive and exquisite, but you are too good and fabulous to put a tag on them
youre freeking gorgeous.<3
The elderly are fascinating, and some have the most intriguing stories to tell.
Others feel their stories are worth telling again and again, stuck in their past and thinking that everyone thinks they are as fabulous as they think. They fail to recognize that most of us are just sitting their politely bored out of our minds.
photograph: beautiful
post: you are so wonderful. and thank you.
your blonde hair is stunning! &the purple lipstick on the post underneath, too <3
i have two blogs&i think you were only on the redundant one! haha,, have a look at the other if you get 'round to it. your blog is gorgeous, definitely going to follow (: x
you are beautiful :)
http://project-vee.blogspot.com/
wonderful post, i love it. thank you for your comment! i love your blog, i will definately be following!
portrayingtaylorashley.blgospot.com
;)
I follow u!
xx
Thank you for the such nice comment, but sadly I didn't write that. It's the lyrics to the song "courage Is" by the strange familiar. I'm so sorry I didn't make that clear! That'd be cool if I did write that, though... Again, so sorry! I edited the post so it says I didn't write that :) your blog is great!
posts like these make remember why I love your blog.
Wow, love, I adore you're new banner!!!! x
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