A version of a truth…

“who are you?” he whispered.

His question lingered, hung like smoke curling in the air. Her smile was sincere, a little too sincere. The interest in his tone ignited her soul, for she could not answer. As she herself did not even know. She was  young girl of twenty three, with hair of golden sun, and eyes as reflective an emerald jewel, that was a fact she knew. When her smile reached her eyes they glowed intensely against the darkness of any night.

‘I do not know…’ she paused with uncertainty and she curled her arms around him. His heart beating, humming into her ear, like a love song only she could hear. His chest rose and he inhaled deep, but no words fell from his lips as she waited for him to speak. when her mind knew he was just as confused, she loved him that little bit more than the minute that passed by a moment before. If you could read someone by their eyes, her life would horrify. His heart sung and his mind ticked, but his body relaxed under her loving grip. She knew who she wanted to be, she knew who she was, and she knew who she had become. Each relationship she knew who they wanted her to be. She let them mould her, to love her, to own her and in-turn to control them.

‘Power is not in the person who thinks they have control, but in the person who is being controlled.’ A passage which she read once upon a time, and could release the taste of them from her mind. The sharp wind slapped her hair and it whipped her face, his hands raised and held her safe. This was the start of a beautiful mistake.


The predictable….

As it is with anything certain outcomes are predictable.  However when it comes to creating,  the visual in your mind is not always the end result staring back at you on your computer screen.  Which is sometimes both a brillant thing as you have over achieved your expectations of yourself.  Or you can be frustrated that it isn’t quite right.  It’s the same with many things in our lives,  the job we spent years studying for we now find we can’t stand.  The people we have tried so endlessly to please we realise we don’t even really like or want in our lives.  Then you have the things you regret not doing… Saying… Visiting… Trying.  I wouldn’t say I am the most optimistic person but i am however the most pragmatical. When people come into my life they are let in to my whole life based on a quality I adore or respect.  If they are funny…. I fall a little bit in love with them… If they are intelligent and have the most beautifully inspiring conversations.  I am hopelessly in love with them it’s true….. There’s nothing I find more beautiful than a intelligent person. However both intelligence and a good sense of humour do not amount to much If they are not self aware of themselves and those around them. Just because they  show sympathy or a caring streak for a stranger in the street it does not mean that they show the same care or compassion  to those close to them.  It’s people we have close to us,  I mean real close that have that key for all access of our lives minds and beings that we take for granted the most.  It’s human nature to be sociable it’s another thing to choose whom which we socialise or surround ourselves with.  I have found so many people compliment me on how I always go out of my way for people I love and care about. However just because I do that extra mile of care and show that extra devotion does it mean I should have it bestowed upon me too?  In the realms of fairness yes.  In the world we live in,  no.  Sometimes you help and try with some people to help them better themselves to make their life easier to make them smile or just make sure they know they are not alone.  Why do this?  Because it’s what makes us human.  To treat those how we want to be treated.  But this is simply a sentence now not a actual mind frame of some people.  Which is disheartening.  See the image of marriage we have in our heads…. Is not exactly the picture perfect idealism that some married people experience.  So when does expectations stop becoming important or become too important.  The expectations that I should live up to,  or that I put on others.  Who has the right to expect from others?  And then get disappointed or disinterested when the expectations are not met or exceeded.  I don’t put expectations upon anyone that I do not think they can meet.  A lover I expect them to be faithful,  honest,  and to support and protect me. And in return I provide that… Alongside the ability to love them and display this live in various forms but as often as I can.  Those little ways I say I love you,  those important things that get taken for granted until they are gone.  From cooking a favourite dish, to sourcing a gadget to make their life easier…. From the little way I lean my head in or body into them…. So let them know I live the feeling of them beside me. The way I know how to make them laugh to make a horrid day more bearable….. The way I will pull over in my car to listen to their day,  good or bad and offer advice and silently think of solutions.  And then solve the problem… Or present the idea so they can think they thought of the solution.  The touch of someone’s skin,  is such a simple but intimate thing.  From brushing your finger along theirs or their lips with yours.  Intimacy is something we all crave… From sweet words to feeling someone breathing next to us….  Purring in a snore or just to inhale their smell knowing their presence was recent.  The things we take for granted….  The alone time that is never really alone as they are a inch away from your thoughts,  your plans,  your memory.  Human beings  can be addictive for so many reasons,  for me the strongest addiction is how someone makes me feel. Like every girl I love the hearts and flowers…..  But the old fashion romantic in me loves the sitting in a park or on a beach with someone’s company beside me and arms around me….  Just sitting, just being.  To escape the fury of life and be lost in silence with someone where words are not needed….. The touch or eyes just say ‘I love you, , and this,  us.’ I once had this lover who use to read to me,  we both adored reading,  from his book or mine or the novel he was working on,  he would pull me in close and read. Not to fill a void or silence but because he knew how much it meant to me…. The romantic in me.  The melody of his voice and the accent in which I was intoxicated with still lingers with me to this day.  And it’s one of the most powerfully beautiful memories I have, of what made us,  us.  But that is the most beautiful thing about any type of relationship…. With my sister what makes us,  us.  Is the fact our humour is the same and the way we think of funny things and the memories we laugh at hysterically together.  I expect nothing from no one in my life….  But what I would like is love,  the pure kind,  the effort it takes to show me that I am loved.  Anyone I can have a conversation with anyone I can laugh with,  but what makes me want to be loved by one person is the reason behind every basic functioning of a human.  To be loved and accepted,  flaws and imperfections, because no one has the right to expect anyone to be perfect.  But to find someone so fitting to you….. But not accept them completely is a crime I can say I have never committed.  Everyone has such amazing qualities and such dark ones…. But if they are not harmful or malicious why can’t it be looked over….  The occasional lie… The occasional outburst of fury or misdirected anger, the laziness of them or the hypocritical acts they make.  Everyone is entitled to have flaws but be careful whom you dispose of for theirs as who knows what you are trading for another imperfect human. I read something from someone recently who I thought the world of at one point in my life.  To me he was flawless but his flaws were evident in the end, he wrote,  ‘to truly love someone you first have to know how much you can hate them.’ I thought this bizarre but I thought about it and realised how it’s the most beautiful and most true thing I have ever read referring love.  I have my own version of what it means and how I interpretated it.  And it is…..  To feel the depth of your love for someone you first have to find out what depths you can hate them too.  As the deeper the emotion of hate goes the deeper the impact of your love for them has been affected.  And if after hate you can love them then that’s a love that knows no depths of shallowness.  And perfect is nobody,  but real love is the only perfectly imperfect thing that exists. Which makes me proud of the people I have loved,  still love,  will always love and those whom I feel no love or hate for just indifference or disregard because with out the people I disregard I would not know what real love was……..  So the ideal image we have in our minds are not always the things that stare back at us…  But that’s OK… Because I’ll love them anyway…..

Finding me….


I’m falling off the radar. I find technology such a powerful tool, to communicate and spread such messages across the world. I have never been such a fan of social media I find it intrusive, and fake. I love the blogs I write but Facebook and Twitter I find pitiful and boastful. …people feeding their own egos with the perfect selfie basing popularity on likes.

So I have decided I have a few phone numbers and they have my house number.  To get in touch with me, I have also created a nobody Facebook in order to manage my photography page on fb. But I am deleting my Facebook account. And as of tonight I shall be switching my phone off and not touching it for at least a week. Or until I come back from Oxford. Because I am fed up of anticipating to take my phone incase someone phones or texts or I miss a call from a client or a friend. It’s a tie ….. and I want this summer to be one I remember for the way the breeze felt….the sunset skies danced and the way in which the only thing I try to update is my perspective of how beautiful and freeing a world without a mobile phone stuck to your arm is. So this summer I am free. I have lots of shoots planned. I have booked holidays away ….With my darling friend charlotte and we agree phones are banned. I coukdnt be happier ……. I have my Polaroid camera to capture memories and places …..which I adore the hues of the instant camera is something my eyes have a orgasm over…..so as of tonight I’m phone free…..

Emancipated as it were…

Another time


Today I had two new tattoos. Every tattoo I have has a very deep and personal meaning. But these two I etched my skin with today both have a beautiful meaning. And the semi colon one being another close one to my heart. I have suffered anxiety, depression as I have bipolar disorder….. I have been suicidal and I have been a mess. But still I am here….. as a writer …poet and artist I chose to have this on my thumb  as from my greatest depths of mental health hell …have transpired into some of my greatest images or most compelling poems …..so I thought it only fitting as a author and artist to have it on my thumb ….where I hold the mouse to my canvas or the pen to leak my pain onto a page……

A blog away…..

So I have decided, that I will do a few tutorials regarding my editing processes on my photographs. I have never done this as i believe editing any photo is a personal journey and experience. But I have been inundated with request just to show them basics on photoshop. So I will. I know this is going to benefit someone in particular who is stalking my blog like crazy. And who admires my work greatly, and struggles with her own work. Though i do not know Why i dont know she is a part of a past no one wants to remember. But evidently she is obsessed with me. And my work, and my life.

Heaven doesn’t answer the phone…….

heaven dont3

Nostalgia is so powerful, sometimes it can become almost crippling. The longing for the lost, the time past, the people, the smells, sounds, feelings, warmth or cold. A simple smell can propel me into such nostalgia of what i emotionally attached that smell too, someone i loved, someone i admired, or someone who inspired, and the fact they are no longer here. I am so happy when summer comes, as it symbolises to me a freedom i adore, to travel, to live free, from university and times of school. But with each summer that comes i loose something also, another year. Maybe another person or two, for different reasons. This summer i have had to stop and take account of how much my life has changed in the last five years. And how it has changed me. And how in the next five years i may loose more than i gain, or gain more than i have lost. Either way when I am sat alone, in a cemetery reading a book or a park or coffee shop and i see people interacting. The old the young, the lovers and strangers. I sit there and wish I could just pick up the phone and speak to my nan. Tell her about everything thats going on, that I am doing, that I want to do. And to hear her accent as she says she loves me before she hangs up the phone. I would so  sacrifice so much to hear that again, just one more time. Just one. To trace the sound of her breathing with the sounds she pronounces her syllables. Therefore this was my image to give to my nan, who never got to see my work, my talent, who never got to share this part of my life with me, but i know she would be so immensely proud of me. I hope she would be. I wish i could just phone her ……….. but heaven doesn’t answer the phone.