...but sometimes shafts of light grace the corners of our room

I took these photos at a time when my room was much cleaner. For all my friends who live too far away for the privilege of stepping inside my humble abode, I present to you:

my bedroom
As you reach the door at the end of the hallway, you may get a glimpse inside, depending on whether I have locked it from the inside.

Don't be deterred from the visual eye sore that is, a pile of books on a coffee table, and dirty laundry....


where the magic happens (*grins*)
yes...I know I don't have a valance... Just messy flat sheets. King Single beds are near impossible to cater for. I am thankful for this free bed. I had to make do with an air mattress...FOR MONTHS... It was hell on my back.Especially when the bed would take the liberty of deflating in the night and leaving me lying on the floor with just a flat, thin, airless stretch of plastic under me.



Here is where I keep my trinkets and things. I like the idea of using breakfast trays instead of a dresser. The mirror behind it leans against the wall, and is taken from an old detached wardrobe door...


note guitar ( for indie cred :] )

I wasn't allowed to have a T.V growing up. Because it would detract from my studies. My uncle used to lock away the antenna in the living room too, so I couldn't lounge in the living room whilst watching the box after school. I saved up enough to buy a small television. Which my brother and I carted home on the bus, taking turns to carry and heave it. We snuck it in the house while my grandma was in the bathroom. I managed to keep a tv in my room for MONTHS.. (It was easy to do) I just had to watch it at minimum volume. One day she walked by and saw I had a T.V and sort of shrugged " huh, a television" ....then she walked off...





note: pretty white matching furniture. Before begrudgingly moving back into my Dad's place, I used my saved up "bond" and "rent" money to splurge at ikea. I never actually owned any NEW furniture growing up. So I'm glad I got to buy some for myself eventually. WORK HARD KIDS.... and you too can have this! (Extreme Kudos to the boyfriend for helping me move and make the stuff. )

Yeah there is a heap of junk under my desk ( and I hate my chair!)


and a bit of what you may find on and around my desk. I tacked a few doodles On the wall. Sometimes I draw. Always pretty girls though....

Thank you, I hope you enjoyed your virtual tour of my bedroom.

Postcard From A Friend

Every image is divided into perfect, equal thirds. One perfect azure blue sky, sometimes streaked with white cotton wisps of cloud. The thick granular gauze of exotic beach sand....and there right in the middle he smiles against the backdrop of a salty ocean. Easily interchanged for an ancient landmark, or possibly something he found amusing.

The images are trophies. Trophies of conquest. Maybe I am the only one to see it like that. What else do those photographs become in the eyes of others? He is saying: "I've been here and here and also there" and "I am having the time of my life..."

There are times when he filters into my thoughts and I feel the crumbling of regret and sorrow. I compare myself to that last slice of bread that everyone leaves in the bag because its not as big as the others. Weak, flimsy, crumbling...with a crusty tough exterior... not as appealing as the other slices. Maybe that is the reason I eat those before anyone else can throw them away.

His postcards find their way to me. I try and decipher the delight pleasantries. Trying to get into his head. Trying to understand the inky scrawl. I can only take it for what it appears to be. A polite written 'Hello' from across the globe, from some other time zone. I don't know if I am allowed to be comforted from the fact he had to be thinking of me when he wrote and addressed that card. The fact he kept my Address from the first time.

I find myself bringing the card to my face and inhaling the scent of another time another land. It smells like old encyclopedia. The card is not new and gleaming, not glossy, not ritzy. Weathered... from the 1970's. My guess is confirmed by the artwork on the front. The description on the back:

'An Artists rendering of the future, A new Desert Inn, country club, Casino with lavish shops and luxurious restaurants, completion scheduled for mid-1978.

But, I love the card. I love it for its lack of shine, A Utopian rendering of a hotel....It couldn't be any further from what I would imagine in my mind. Because All those locations and names of places are just that to me. Just words. Just names of places. I cannot imagine what it would be like there. Depraved from the delights of travel, the delights of monetary pleasure. Suddenly, I find myself appreciating those perfect photographs, delightfully proportioned into perfect thirds. Because I am afraid, It is the closest I will get.