blouse, Hermès. rose, from mother's garden.pointless dinner party after dinner party.
child, you're strange, whispers the baroness's eyes across the dinner table, but I'd rather be strange than forever ordinary.
the evening progresses; I sit immobile as my sisters charm the rest of our guests.
child, you're strange, whispers the baroness's eyes across the dinner table, but I'd rather be strange than forever ordinary.
the evening progresses; I sit immobile as my sisters charm the rest of our guests.
Don't get me wrong but your family seems far from ordinary...
ReplyDeleteHow can someone seemingly doomed to a life of snooty aristocracy somehow become the blogging black sheep?
ReplyDeleteFeels like a story, I might add.
you see my life as a story?
ReplyDeleteI never really thought of it that way. I guess I always preferred writing in this way. but if you want it to be a story, then I suppose that's alright.
That pic is..fab.
ReplyDeleteI'm intrigued...
ReplyDeleteMust say I adore your style of photography...they are self portraits right?! Hauntingly beautiful!
I'm so glad you dropped by, thanks~
fab photo.
ReplyDeletehave a sweet weekend, xoxo
I also believe it's better to be strange than to be ordinary.
ReplyDeleteJudith
http://couture-and-beauty.blogspot.com/
ps: thanks for your sweet comment!