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stell dich tot
visual and auditive stimuli for the destructive-creative mind

21 year old business student & freelance designer with a taste for post-punk, iconoclasm, beauty, et les voyages.

we do not sow
music tag | icons


performance-sofa:

long sleeve t shirt and padded silk velcro vest: helmut lang, 1999

eartheld:

mostly nature

12/30 (what I woke up to)

womenreadaboutthemselvesincolor:

I woke up to my man’s hands on my waist, firmly pulling me close into a cocoon of warmth and want (like I know what I want and this is what I want, you right now, right now, you), pulling me closer into kisses and innocence (the type that just comes and doesn’t question) and wakening to coffee, his whispering in my ear, “Jaz, you are beautiful. I’m going to go on a quick coffee run for you” coming back with the sweetest vanilla latte and love that broke me whole, love that made even the slightest, smallest thing seem like something worth talking about, writing down, dancing and grinding to, “I’ve never felt so damn compelled to hold on to something, something that rocks me and still keeps me steady at the same time” you know about that? (the sex will come later but i’ve got to have your heart now…that sort of thing) [i want to ease into this morning with you; when i say i want you, this could mean the subtraction of sex or the enhancement of it but right now I just need you, up against me, softly slicing the sun with our tongues, the kind of love we can lick off our hands for days…] you’re in my blood, you’re in my bones, you are the center, the quake, the equation of all that’s ever been empty, “what good thing did I do to deserve this?” I fell back asleep in his arms for what could have been hours or minutes, only the ocean in my between my legs would know.

denchgang:

aesthetic for dinner again