The Edit
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The Grand Belgium Hotel
Wednesday mood Her: Flowers are essentially tarts. Prostitute for the bees (Withnail and I) I: Prostitutes are flowers for the guys who married tarts Latest words uttered Her: Hoezo Hij? I: Why getting up so early? Latest words written Her: Buxton (for a new subject) I: Two Three Four One Latest meal Her: almond milk… Continue reading
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Daily Crush… 2
The Daffodil Runner The running figure of the daffodil runner will greet the London marathon runners. The sculpture is covered with 557 steel daffodils representing the number of people who die each day in the UK without the end-of-life care they need. “Each one of those daffodils represents a person, a human with family, who… Continue reading
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A Bold New Chapter Begins Here
First, let me introduce her. My lady. Our mistress. She, a not-so-complete unknown, still proud to be discreet, is about to take center stage while I introduce you to our modest world. The rest of the time, we will remind you who are the true heroes here. Monday mood Her: Merrel flat trailer shoes. Barefoot-like.… Continue reading
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The Sweater’s Edit
Some used to say I was a global icon. Some do not even know me. Why the hell should I give a flying stitch about it? I am back. And even hell would not dare to bother me. Continue reading
The Diary Of A Purple Sweater 