She was the message in the bottle that never had the chance to kiss the waves of the ocean. Not even the seas nor the lover that perhaps loved to play by the shore will ever know who she was and what that message contained. She was left there in the tables and the desks of people who lived thousands of miles away from the deep blue.
53

She was the message in the bottle that never had the chance to kiss the waves of the ocean. Not even the seas nor the lover that perhaps loved to play by the shore will ever know who she was and what that message contained. She was left there in the tables and the desks of people who lived thousands of miles away from the deep blue.

springingforth asked:
Hi. I've known you since I had my first tumblr. This is my third blog and am glad to have found you again. You're still the Meg I knew, I bet. You got great photos and you really are a pretty model/subject. Just dropping by. Have a good night! :-)

Thank you so much for sticking with my randomness and my ventures into the kind of photography I’m still quite clueless about. I’d like to think that I’m somehow the Meg you knew three blogs back but also the one who has changed for the better. Thank you, thank you thank you! 

hi it’s me being weird 
42

hi it’s me being weird 

The shadows were my way of reminding me I was still real and the flowers gave me hope that even the dead could still smell the scent of its roots digging through my soul. 

mademoisellerika asked:
Your self portraits pls 😍

I’ve been so busy and I already tucked away my studio lights because they were gathering too much dust :( I’ll try to post again soon! Thanks erika, you look gorg in your latest shoot ♥ And your words are beautiful!

Rain pouring down on the pebbles and the grass seemed like life was pouring down its challenges on different parts of my body as if it had textures to darken and soil to dampen. That happening was sad on some days because I would slip and slide but most days? It was beautiful for it cooled down my pores and gave me space to breathe and to spread out to different parts of the world, allowing me to blossom and to breathe.
29

Rain pouring down on the pebbles and the grass seemed like life was pouring down its challenges on different parts of my body as if it had textures to darken and soil to dampen. That happening was sad on some days because I would slip and slide but most days? It was beautiful for it cooled down my pores and gave me space to breathe and to spread out to different parts of the world, allowing me to blossom and to breathe.

"I woke up to the sound of rain kissing my cheeks and as I got up, I soaked my body with the gloom and comfort that the darkness brought. I felt the drizzle and the hurricane and both reminded me of you because you were within my reach and you were subtle. You are as beautiful as the rain that came today."

My Brave Days

Sometimes it frustrates me so much to think of ways on how to deal with stuff because one second you’re so hyperactive and then the next you’re devastated because you question your happiness and faith in yourself that you start seeing so many flaws in your plan. And that plan is your life, my life. I get this most of the time when I’m sitting here typing my thoughts down or drawing out ideas I want to happen in my life. The moment I start writing down the words, they slowly slip off of my mind and then they get lost somehow. Whenever I paint or draw, the lights glide down the paper, soothing my mind and calming my hands but when I’m halfway through, it perplexes me that I feel the need to finish it the way I envisioned it and to finish it perfectly without any errors or smudged yet unfortunately enough, that’s when my hands get all shaky. 

But there are days in my life that I wake up on the wrong side of the bed yet I still manage to get up and it’s such a wonderful feeling to know that I’ve proven myself wrong. And I think those brave days are what keeps me going. I sleep every single night hoping that tomorrow would be the day that I can get up just as confidently as I did on the other happy days. I would be able to type things neatly and arrange my words just as accordingly as I would my hair for the perfect photoshoot. I would be able to pick the right kind of pencil and even though I’m halfway through, the flaws and the smudges are what gives my artwork a totality and an air of satisfaction that it is perfectly imperfect to my eyes.

This is when I get happy that I had days when I was so frustrated because then I have learned to look at life a little bit better and it being not so organized is what makes it just fine. And I am completely okay with this kind of plan. I hope you are with yours.

Ashen City
80

Ashen City

Next Page »
« Previous Page