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The dress. The bridesmaid. The crowd. The father. The Prince. The trees inside Westminster Abbey. The choir. The vows. With this ring I thee wed. With my body I thee honour. The very British kiss. Overall quite moving. Money well spent.
Six mois d’hiver, trois tempêtes de neige, et pas de printemps. New York passe directement à l’été, la saison prétexte pour engloutir du fromage de chèvre frais et des bleuets. Avec des pêches et du miel. Cette année, j’ai aussi sauté l’anniversaire de . . . → Read More: L’été en avance
La route est droite mais la pente est forte. Je suis toute seule dans la forêt. Il fait plutôt beau. Je n’ai pas froid. J’avance.
“I don’t mind living in a man’s world, as long as I can be a woman in it” – what wearing a peroxide blond Marilyn Monroe wig for one afternoon feels like.
Because we like to think we share information but all we really do is watch silly you tube videos. Because whatever information we upload on FB is forever there – why is Diaspora taking forever to launch? Because we are excited about notifications and messages but as soon as the red on the . . . → Read More: The Facebook break begins
Bread and gravestones – there couldn’t be a more perfectly weird combination. |
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