The moon, the dust, the dreams, I let them dance, I let them pass. Stars fading out from the sun. Made me have to throw the looking glass. Made it gold. When things are broken and scattered, they taste and smell different. They are more enduring, more immaterial, more like souls.
white dress by Nameless
teal crystal necklace by Ann Taylor
bag by Alloy Apparel
boots by JC
photos by Phillip Van Nostrand
listening to "Looking Glass" by Little Dragon