Girl of my Dreams XII

In this world

love has no colour

yet how deeply my body

is stained by yours.

- Izumi Shikibu

Helen Frankenthaler, an American abstract expressionist painter. See her full series of portraits in New York 1969 here.

When I am not blogging I read... (2)

Gather Journal 

a bi-annual recipe-driven food magazine devoted not just to cooking and eating, but to what those acts inspire: the bringing of people together

read |  Sage gets Spirited - Pour Judgement | their notebook

Wilder Quarterly

...for people enthralled by the natural and growing world. Hanging out with us you’ll find rooftop gardeners, foodies and chefs, laymen hikers, landscape architects, hobby farmers, horticulturalists, nature’s innovators, amateurs, and experts.

read | Plant Life: Q&A with top horticulturist | their notebook

oh comely

a lifestyle magazine with life. It is a magazine that makes people smile, full of quiet moments and stories. Read it with a cup of tea or a toddy. Published six times a year.

read | stories from issues past | in praise of solitude

Smith Journal 

 a quarterly publication aimed at men and read by interested folk. It’s heads-up and hands-on. A friendly guide to all things creative, intriguing, genuine and funny – full of stories, people, adventures, interesting conversations and gentlemanly style.

read | Sunday Reading: What the young man should know | their science blog!

The White Review 

 a quarterly arts and literary journal published in print and online, specialising in artistically or educationally meritorious works of new or emerging artists and writers. It takes its name and a degree of inspiration from La Revue Blanche, a Parisian magazine which ran from 1889 to 1903. 

read | their amazing features | Interview with Simon Critchley: the Tragic and Its Limits

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and of course good old Kinfolk and The Gentlewoman (with their new websites beautiful and full of digital content)

Room for imagination

In a month's time I would be back at sweet old London, plummeting into the midst of autumn - moving into a room with a panoramic view of Hampstead Heath and the best yet, no internet. So I will be spending my evenings reading, chatting over wine (a half bottle Burgundy pokes out from his Barbour's poachers pocket as he hurries upstairs), listening to vinyl, unmaking beds, tendering to my plants - which co-habituate with my books and picnic basket on the top shelf.

1. Some inspiration, all images from milk & mead
2. Tiny apartment tips from reading my tea leaves
3. Note to self: small room = promises of big mental space

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Cinematic Writing XI

my own | quentin de briey

Poetry is made in a bed like love. Its rumpled sheets are the dawn of things...

- André Breton

Away but available at

http://electivelyhanoi.blogspot.com

For the next few weeks - for travel & medical stories in Vietnam.

(no instagram I'm afraid - iphone wifi has failed)

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In the mood

In a blink of the eye we floated from April to July. I am now reborn; soaking up the sun, swimming in the ponds (supremely cold, but invigorating), reading books, waking up to humming jazz and wild landscapes (and sometimes on a chilled summer's night we wore a woollen jumper & started a fire), slowly and steadily falling in love. I am never so sure before - this is really all I need. An inner joy and peace that stays, a skirt that floats like butterfly while I bike.

In summer, I -
wear: either a white or breton shirt, navy skirt, chestnut brown leather loafters, a singular dainty gold bracelet
listen to: the sound of the sea, various Spotify playlists, Louis Armstrong Five
read: Roger Deakin's Waterlog, Miranda July (but most of the time I am just lazily watching le tour de france)

look forward to: travelling and trekking in Northern Vietnam, wearing a straw hat and eat pho at dusk

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Cinematic Writing X

Brian W. Ferry

And still the mad magnificent herald Spring

assembles beauty from forgetfulness

with the wild trump of April: witchery

of sound and odour drives the wingless thing

man forth into bright air,for now the red

leaps in the maple's cheek,and suddenly

by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress

ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

- e.e. cummings