sometimes to just lay, letting the thoughts run through thy body. where they stop and where they begin, only a specific author knows. throwin’ my legs up, hands behind my head and wondering, how much is alive alive, and how much has gone washed away, died and now dead. the instances bled and it all seems…seems like, well, what can you do. sometimes you win, and in these days, most times you lose. biting the bullet, gnawing away at the possibilities, and the moments. never does it stop.
styling by Christian Classen.