奇女子狄娜
There had been an earring missing beside the bed and in the kitchen. He had watched her move around the room half-naked, dressing, bending down to a pile of clothes in his room without furniture, a long time ago, saying Can't find my earring, does it matter? As if another woman would find it. Alice departing with one ear undressed. If we meet again we can say hello, we can say goodbye.
- In the Skin of a Lion- Michael Ondaatje
here's the new look for peeping toms. glam shiny blue earrings hanging like that icy cold boulder rocketed from the surface of the moon paired with sunshine yellow lemon scented citrus shirt fluttering on the body like that passionate flamenco dancer looping her leg around her parter. hello there, hello to you, waves peeping tom with that bedazzling twinkle from the fingers jazzed with glittering gold and white flecks shaping tiny flowers from the tip of a tiny paintbrush dipped in toxic blue varnish. remember to plaster that smirk hiding raspberry stained teeth with cheesecake slotted in random chips and cracks. behold the fashionista, behold that clumsy creature swathed in old crinkly clothes dug out from mountains of mothballs and dehumidifiers with plastic jewelery covered in dried pus from infected lobes. beautiful, absolutely beautiful the notorious critics acclaim, clasping their knobbly fingers around their louis vuitton purses and adorned with heavy 50 karat diamonds.
on the 31st i will be setting off to the glamorous feline of japan, adorned with brightly coloured beads and what-not, i will be carrying a slight suitcase with raggedy-ann clothes, canisters of film and a new language.
looking back, my very first post here revolved around the birthday of one of my best friends. this post, a year later, features new smiling faces. over three hundred fifty six days, soundtracks changed, the storyline evolved and there's always new fashion icons. nostalgia, say say, do you remember the old days? we are all finally old enough to be those old women knitting away on their front porch stroking their lazy obese cats talking about the past between rocks of the rocking chair and sips of the hot sweet tea.
