• 2015

    Armando la carpa, desarmando la carpa: 16 de marzo de 2015

    Sandy Birkenstocks, tea in a thermos, children’s books en español, selling burbujeros to the tourists in the weekend market and on the beach, armando la carpa, desarmando la carpa, esperando en el sol, everything dirty and filled with salt and…

  • 2015

    Dim lights and jazz music: 01 de abril de 2015

    Dim lights and jazz music. Today I wanted to be a hippie, a reporter, Buddha; a person with perfect calm confidence and no doubt. You are a person of talent. You, you have got something special. I feel pressured to…

  • 2014

    I feel so magic: 13 de diciembre de 2014

    I feel so new, I feel so magic, so feather-like floaty hair and pixelated pinpointed pulseras, colours in every texture. Ink on skin, plastic camera whimsical vibrations, a ring on every finger, long nails, eating a bulbous, shiny apple, reds…

  • 2013

    Ideas unfolding like morphing lotuses: 28 de noviembre de 2013

    Heavy fog reminds me of the ocean, open space spread like butter into infinity, my eternal introspective fire crackling and sparking, ideas unfolding like morphing lotuses, pulsing with the salted waves and provoking that same excitement, the anticipation of future…

  • 2013

    The words gushing out of me: 17 de noviembre de 2013

    I’m eating ice cream in the kitchen with the clocks ticking and an aloe vera plant in the corner. An almost-empty bottle of wine, a sepia toned world map on the wall, miniature pumpkins on the dining table. The words…

  • 2013

    Inhale my waves: 26 de mayo de 2013

    Today is super baked and residual hiiighs and tiny writing. Poppyseed muffins, French, drawings, the collective as more than the sum of the parts. Antique pearly jewelry, found objects, scratchy pen scrawl, USE YOUR WORDS, use your worlds, inhale my…

  • 2015

    The sound of birds: 03, 12 de julio de 2015

    ☯️03 de julio de 2015 I’ve been wanting to listen to silence for so long now. Its intricate, infinite depth is filled with everything. There is the sound of birds near — a loud, cackling mess of twigs in the…