| watch the world through my eyes |


two nights and three daysi remember the morning my father cried for the first time. a morning too quiet, too white and too pure too everything, and all i heard was the sob and yearn from the little bedroom of our winter rental cottage. as a nine-year-old i was so confused i couldnt even look him in the eye. my mother was sad too but i wasnt sure if it was because of daddys crying or me sitting in the corner my hands laid on my ears.two nights and three days
two nights and three days later they held the funeral for my long-loved grandfather, for the father of my father. i have only memories of tearful eyes and black, so much of it it hurt my eye. grandmot
| watch the world through my eyes |
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| i'm partly still a wonder to myself, with my love to aesthetics and observation. i love life and feelings and passion to whatever i want to feel passion towards. to me photos are all tiny stories, it's about the idea, not the execution. (anyone can take magnificent photos with a great camera, but it is talent to give them soul) |
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the past, the now, the coming years.
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We're all pretty bizzare. Some of us are just better at hiding it.
-The Breakfast Club
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