(Source: serdcestakana)



I went for a browse in David Jones today and wanted to cry over the $2000 Chloe bags and ruin the stupid pretty leather with my tears but then I was given 23 sweet pumpkin dumplings instead of the 6 I paid for and that made me feel a lot better until I ate too many and now I want to cry into the soy sauce over my poor full tum tums.

Hash-teg, ultimate first wold problems. 



Things to be excited about: The holographic fabric I bought today, extra shifts and pay day, modelling for the delightful Hannah and Chelsea - and more importantly finishing semester drinks afterwards, the take away dumplings I’m going to eat when I get home, Japan in September, Thailand in November, music festivals, my family visiting and going home briefly in July, drinks with Dylan and everything else. Life is faaaantasique!



pradaphne:

Natasha Poly and Yannick Mantele photographed by Willy Vanderperre for COS Magazine Fall/Winter 2008.

pradaphne:

Natasha Poly and Yannick Mantele photographed by Willy Vanderperre for COS Magazine Fall/Winter 2008.



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(Source: seccsmeup)



My uncle knock’d up his long-term girlfy and a shotgun wedding is in the works. Not that our family would care at all, but his girlfriend is Japanese and from a v strick and v conventional family. I’ve been feeling bad about internally calling it a shotgun wedding because I don’t know, is that social acceptable? anyway he just referred to it as a shot gun wedding so now I can prance around singing panic at the disco! and trips to Japan all I like! WOO HOO also woo hoo to having an adorable half Japanese cousin!! 



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okay getting off the internet now b/c i’m literally just scrolling facebook and hating every single thing anybody has posted. sorry/not sorry everyone sucks. 




morning after

thoughts about the impermanence of a hook up written in permanent marker in the places he touched

by Lindsay Bottos




The Eye of Love, René Groebli

The Eye of Love, René Groebli

(Source: thedoppelganger)





A lonely Fitzgerald wrote this postcard to himself.

A lonely Fitzgerald wrote this postcard to himself.

(Source: factoseintolerant)