Vintage Creedence Clearwater Revival shirt and daisy-print maxi skirt; Topshop boots (similar here); Etsy boot chains; markets/eBay rings.

I fell asleep in the car last night, in a furry jacket and with my boots tucked up on the seat, clutching a tissue box full of sea urchin shells. Humble was stretched out and snoring on the back seat and Scotty was seeing us through the last few hundred kilometres home.

We were all tired and we didn’t want to arrive home, because home just meant work tomorrow and normal life and paying the tolls that we’d driven through to get out of the city in the first place.

And mostly because that afternoon, just a few hours before, we’d been sitting around a fire-pit in the backyard, cooking fish the boys had pulled out of the sea earlier in the day, drinking tins, watching the dogs roll in the grass and soaking up a bit of south-coast sunshine. 

It's always hard leaving Eden.

There’s an eternal war raging between my quiet, content, smalltown-self and my restless, seeking, city-self. Sometimes, I want to move back to the coast, raise goats, adopt dogs, listen to Creedence and swim in the creek; and other times I’m thankful that I’m never going to run out of new things to see in the city.

More than anything, I guess, I’m grateful that we get to do a bit of both.

 

Images from the lovely Calabash Design blog, this incredible Pinterest and WhothefuckisMickJagger
Stitch an elaborate silk tapestry of colours and signs and universes Δ Hunt for the perfect stack of turquoise and totem rings Δ Collect late-blooming flowers to press in old, heavy books Δ Go for evening runs under streetlights, breathing huge lungfuls of cool, night air Δ Draw on anything and everything Δ Reimagine and reinvent old ideas, and chase new ones Δ Photograph the dying light and the rising sun Δ Drive out to your favourite secret spot with your lover Δ Race your dog along the riverbank, through the yellow leaves Δ Don a heavy knit, brew some chai, peek out the window and watch the rain fall Δ And if all else fails, listen to the Stones.  

Scarf and beanie c/o Somedays Lovin; vintage denim jacket/DIY studs; vintage sunglasses; market rings.

Somedays I wake up before dawn and forget what it was that I wanted to wake up early and get done. 

So instead, I start clipping out pictures of cacti. 

I scan some drawings I'd forgotten I created.

... And all of a sudden, I'm directing intense concentration at Photoshop -- hunched, staring, clicking, muttering -- I'm working against the clock to complete this important project before I have to leave for work, ever-conscious of the time rolling over in the top right hand corner of the screen. I'm trying to rush but also not make mistakes, and there's no plan, no foresight, no proper process... 

Orange circle? Sure, let's try it. 

Feathers? Of course!

*   *   *

Then, before I know what's happening, I'm on the train to work, listening to some weird be-suited guy across the aisle snuffle and breathe grossly, staring out the window at the graffiti, thinking: "What just happened? Why did the fun stop?".