you've got your head in the clouds and you're not at all what you seem

by Rachel Lynch in


So right now, I’m laying in his bed after the both of us have stayed up till five or six, whichever it is I don’t really recall. I’m just going to roll around here in my light blue nightgown to regain some fuel in hopes of taking flight again later. These days have seemed like one wave over the next, crashing in and out of thoughts and attempts at trying to direct myself through the sea. Friday we sat outside listening to perpetual songs, sipping red and smoking cigarettes as I sketched his images with pencil. We’ve taken about two rolls of film and when he gets back from work, I’m going to shoot a narrative portrait series of him in his natural surrounds. I fall in love with the grainy, raw, horizontal photo a little more everyday. Last night we drank cheap white wine and ended up at Mel’s on sunset around three in the morning. Upon getting back, we slipped into more comfortable apparel and lit candles for our late night discussions. The rest of the world ceases to exist sometimes.

But I always end up having to go back, away from it all again.