Although on my blog I want to mostly show my work, whether it is through photos or words, I also want to show you people, art or work that inspires me, and Kyle Thomson's photography is all three.
You have probably already seen these incredible images floating around the internet but I wanted to share them as everyone need to see them and know about him!
Blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, his photos are breath taking in a way that you can't quite describe. You can't create any specific meaning, but you cant help but feel something when you look at them.
Part two of the short story that I begun in my last post.
“I’m sorry Pol, it just wasn’t working.” Those were the
words my father chose to explain the scene as I entered the living room. My
mother was curled up on the green sofa, wrapped in a patchwork throw. Her dark
curly hair had gone out of control, like she had been rubbing her head
repeatedly, and her eyes were red and swollen with dark circles. He was
standing, one hand leaning on the fireplace. His tie had been loosened and a
few strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, escaping the usual slicked
back style I had grown used to.
I didn’t know what I had expected, sitting in my bedroom a
few minutes before. I had heard Violet return home from an evening out
somewhere and then go into the living room. Shouting then exploded from behind
the closed door, muffled, but no doubt coming from Violet. My heart started to
thud, I slowly got off my bed and tried to make noiseless steps across the
room, to try and get a better listen. Then the living room door was angrily
wretched open, I suddenly froze, and a pair of platforms clumped up the stairs.
She stormed in to our bedroom and kicked off the shoes, murmuring something
like “don’t worry about me then” and threw herself on her clothes cluttered
bed, facing away from me.
Anticipating she wouldn’t tell me what’s going on, I made my
way downstairs. And there it was, my parents marriage crumbled in front of me
on a January Sunday evening.
The silence had become unbearable, so I blurted out “wait,
what? What’s he talking about?” She slowly lifted her head.
“He’s leaving.” She replied, in a quiet, dead voice. He
began to pace up and down the room, removing his pale blue tie and throwing it
on one of the leathers chairs.
I didn’t know what to say. I was lost standing in the living
room I had grown up in, the loud crimson wallpaper being my only comfort.
Everything suddenly seemed tainted now. Everything in the room was now
bittersweet. The peachy china trinket box, a Christmas present from him to her,
all his records on the coat rack, his huge brown oxfords I trip over everyday,
why were they all staring at me?
He suddenly let out a huge sigh, and threw his head back, a
universal action to show “I’m bored of this now”
The initial shock of hearing the news had now faded, and I
was scrambling for something to say, to feel.
This story as of yet does not have a title, main plot line or date in which it will be finished. It was something I started writing when I felt like I need to write something.
We had all wanted the car for ages, my Father because
everyone at the office had one, and my optimistic side thought it would be a
good way to avoid the breath mint and old lady shampoo smell before school.
We had only had the car for a few months and already I was
Or maybe the reason why this particular journey seemed even
more unbearable than usual was because I desperately wanted it to end and have
the relief of stepping out on solid ground, but at the same time didn’t want to
be hit by the realisation that we had arrived, announced by the inevitable
“Here we are girls!”
My mother’s shrill, falsely cheerful tone would soon slice
through the faint perfume-smelling aroma of our Volkswagen, and then she would
turn to face the cream coloured backseats which contained her two daughters.
One of which was bitterly glaring out the window, and the other running her svelte
fingers through her thick hair.
My older sister, Violet, didn’t seem to resent this car as
much as me. Then again, I’ve never known her to have any strong feelings about
anything that didn’t involve the way she looked or which friend had called her
that evening. She would never admit this of course, one of the main ingredients
in the vanity cocktail is denial, but even now she was passing the time by casually
glancing at herself in the rear view mirror every few minutes, then proceeding
to remove the dusty pink lipstick stains from her teeth by swirling her tongue
over them. Swiftly of course, as it wasn’t the most attractive manoeuvre.
I’ll always remember that shade of lipstick, and the first
time I saw it on the yellowing tiled bathroom shelf. Vi had been in there for
about half an hour prior to finally allowing me to brush my teeth, and there it
was. Taunting me with the memories of her constantly staring at herself in any
mirror she would come across, gliding colour across her perfectly curved cupids
bow or brushing rouge onto her freckle-free cheeks. I was tempted to grab the
thing and throw it out the window, but considering our parents had just split up
I don’t think Mother would have appreciated a Violet tantrum at that moment.
That’s what they do. Things. Possessions.
They hold vivid memories, good and bad, when you got them or
lost them or who gave them to you and why. Then they never cease to remind you
of them every time they catch your eye. Even your sister’s cheap, rosy pink
“Mum how much longer,” Violet suddenly exhaled, so fast all
the words seem to merge together in a fed up, monotone. Maybe we did have
something in common, as I averted my gaze from her to the back of my mothers
head, as I also wanted to know the answer.
“Not long, it’s in the next town over,” she replied in such
a sickly sweet voice it was almost sung, and she turned her head slightly to
reveal a forced smile.
I’m not sure if this was a normal reaction to finding out
your marriage was over, but then again I don’t know what it feels like to have
a husband abandon you and your two children, so maybe this false happiness was
just her way of dealing with it.
I don’t really know how I even feel about it. It was a shock
of course, but then shock is a fleeting moment, over before you know it, and
then you are forced to feel other emotions that actually try to deal with what
you have just been told. A battle then begins in your head, whether to lash out
in anger or give in and cry uncontrollably. Actually, I’m not sure if I feel
like doing either of that. Maybe my repressed childhood memories had caused
this significant insignificant lack of emotions. Maybe I just really didn’t
Word by Alice Beatty do not copy or steal without my consent.
One mistake I made when reading this book, I saw the film first. It turns out the film is a very accurate adaptation of the book, which while this is good, I did already know the plot and shocking truth the story contains, which probably hindered my surprise that I should of felt if I had of discovered it for the first time!
Never the less, this is a fantastic read. It centres around a group of friends, Kathy, Ruth and Tommy, and their upbringing in Hailsham, a strange place that resembles something like a boarding school. We also meet them in their young adulthood, where the truth of their lives and purposes unfold. I don't want to ruin it as it is such an amazing and original concept that you need to discover it for yourself! It makes you think and question everything about your own life and humanity in general, as you are forced to look at how we treat life, and how precious it is. Imagine if you found out your existence had been planned out from when you were born, and you had a specific purpose you had to follow. How would you react?
This is such a great book with uplifting and devastating moments that are sometimes hard to take.
Thought I'd share with you today what I put together for my Leaver's prom, which signifies the end of college, finally!
I bought a LBD from H+M as it fitted so nicely and it's the sort of item I can wear time and time again, and a bonus was it was in the sale! I also threw on this gorgeous floral kimono from H+M as like most girls I'm not keen on showing my arms, and this is the perfect cover up. Of course, prom means uncomfortable footwear, and these beautiful heels are from ZARA and they're actually surprisingly easy to walk in even though after several hours I did want to rip them off. I went very simple on the accessories with a beaded bag from Accsessorize and my favourite, my vintage earrings.
I've always loved living by the sea, whether its the summer or winter, or whether I just want some nice photos. Its so calming to drive along watching the sun set and seeing people strolling along in their own little worlds. Have on the soundtrack Fleetwood Mac or some Lana Del Ray and you're sorted.
I love the second photo of the birds, as I nearly missed it, as it shows just how a picture can capture something that cannot be repeated.