Entry tags:
It Doesn't Hurt Me
London tomorrow, and I haven't packed a thing. Hihi. London, London, London. Though I have to be good, and not buy anything. Control. Staying the hell away from Selfridge's/Harrods (awfully punctuated, Harrods) is absolutely imperative. I will not be able to control myself in the face of Louboutin, quite frankly.
I spent some four hours in bed earlier, reading the second part of Feist's Magician. I love that book. It is not that it is so very well-written or otherwise a masterpiece, I just adore it. I remember reading it the first time, in a Norwegian translation. The room spun and I was utterly transported.
My god, the scarves! It is genious. Though I can't say I care much for the shoes, what was he thinking?
And as for portrait photography, portraits of beautiful people are about the most boring thing I can think of. Flawless, pretty, boring people have no business crowding portraits.
I spent some four hours in bed earlier, reading the second part of Feist's Magician. I love that book. It is not that it is so very well-written or otherwise a masterpiece, I just adore it. I remember reading it the first time, in a Norwegian translation. The room spun and I was utterly transported.
My god, the scarves! It is genious. Though I can't say I care much for the shoes, what was he thinking?
And as for portrait photography, portraits of beautiful people are about the most boring thing I can think of. Flawless, pretty, boring people have no business crowding portraits.
