Drop and Give Me Zen

06/11/2022

This is to the men.

I feel it
The sharpness
As I run a single finger over the bow of your lip
A bow that launched a thousand words
That spoke of a thousand histories
None of them your choice
The same story
Set to repeat on loop
This is a purgatory of the masculine

Like the cloth loops you bind and weave around your wrists & knuckles
As if somehow the softness of cloth could protect you, from your own sharpness.
As you rise
A boxer in the ring
A hero to some, a villain to the rest
And all you had to do was be man
To be hated and adored
Engineered to walk as the saviour in our story or the one to tear it all down in another
Nothing in between
Shuttling between the two
No time to land between the footwork you’ve been taught
Not knowing you could pivot my love
The shortest line joining any 2 points is a straight line.
If a point moves in only one direction, we get a straight line.
If a point does not move in one direction, we get a curve.
A softness. An eternity. A choice. A new way.

Man took something soft and starched it into a point
Sharp straight lines
The architecture of your jaw, your life, your conditioning
I wish you knew
That its the places between the sharp and straight that are magnetic to me
In the way its the space between the notes that make the music
The softness between the stubble on your chin that meets my skin in closeness
And when your perfect shirt folds and wilts in the breeze
Sighing
This is the only flag I love

There is a special type of importance in looking at the things we leave out
For it is softness that we find aliveness.
Like the shell without its creature
Hardened emptiness, just the sound without the ocean
A ghost of what could be

I know you’re trying
But it only works when we are all trying
So old can surrender to new
Tearing down an ungodly house
And the hope of standing in the rubble
So I’m here to tell you
That there is nothing more powerful than a man who stands in soft grace
Choosing love is heroic
Be the wind, soft, felt by all
And whenever you doubt do what feels most clear and alive.
That’s where you’ll find you.

31/10/2022

Scariest part of Halloween is you finding out I’m in charge.

Do what I like so here have a flash sale - use code SPOOKY10 for treats 🐰

Laters blood suckers

30/10/2022

Which way to the mansion? A rabbit walks home alone at night. By

30/10/2022

29/10/2022

Just teared up in the world because i have never missed anyone so much. You are my heart that beat outside my body to a beat

This time last week little sis ###x

28/10/2022

Well I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.

Yo what’s the scariest thing about Halloween? The plastic waste. Get creative + Try this instead…

DIY fully thrifted Lara Croft outfit:
- Silver Catsuit - Brick Lane Vintage Market
- Chest Piece - A Go Pro holder for pets worn backwards
- Utility Belt - Hand made + stitched + clipped mobile phone (gun) holders + wallets to it.
- Leg Holster - Depop
- Boots old
- The clip on pony tail? Better we don’t talk about why I own this 🤘😂🙈

27/10/2022

A moment, forever.
And it starts with a breath.
Last week on a honeysuckle golden Friday in Amsterdam + I stitched little pieces our hearts into a combined live music, spoken word, breath + meditation set for first event.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to describe what happened it that room. But it was the most raw tender thing .. strangers reaching for a hand to hold in the moment.
Maybe I’ll share the words I wrote for it. Maybe I won’t.
But I know they’ll never taste as sweet as they did that day. ✨

18/10/2022

I sat down to write this + I hoped that something would flow from my fingers.
But to try + turn this feeling into poetry would be contrived. This feeling IS the poetry.

We SOLD OUT of x .bare before dinner time + I may have swore down the whole of Moorgate + scared some people + proceeded to cry.
But bloody hell. We did it. We really did it. And it’s because of you.

17/10/2022

When I was small I always wished to invent something. From stirring gravy granules into cola to mixing blue food colouring into mash potatoes I longed for the ordinary to become extra ordinary. I wanted something physical to hold up that would show people the colour, thoughts and magic that was constantly swirling around my head. I wanted people to see the way I saw the world in all its beauty and in turn hold it and interact with it and play with it too.
And with adulthood came the word No.
But the longing never faded. It grew louder until a whisper landed on my lips; I could just …
Making something seems hard, the hover of a pencil above paper and then you begin and it feels like breathing in its aliveness, in the way its what you’re supposed to be doing.
It’s just connecting dots. You are collaborating with the memories of everything you’ve ever seen, felt, touched, tasted.
Memory is a poet not a historian, our own private universes we live in aren’t made of dates and data .. they are made of the soft popping sound of vanilla ice cream tubs opening, the sweetness of cake batter, the rustle of wrapping paper and the velvet of bonfire night sky.
And that’s what creativity calls upon. Never in a straight line. In a spiral, you constantly come back to things and see them anew.
Its only the worlds told us that things are linear, we get frustrated when things don’t progress that way, we feel incapable.
We stop our projects, they gather dust, they get forgotten.
But what we really forgot was the spiral. Every time we keep spinning with our ideas we aren’t going backwards we’re falling forwards. A spiral grows.
And this is the making of things. You don’t have to be good or talented. You just have to keep dancing with them until they become real.
Don’t give up.