GLIMPSES & NOTES | HITTING THE GOLD
11e september
att fylla år är att passera ännu en markör på något vis; mjukt, men tydligt nerkörd i tidsmyllan. i år vaknar jag i en säng som är som ett enormt, vitt moln.i ett vaggande mjukt & disigt, kashmirgrått london. m rör vid mitt ansikte och bär två stora, vita koppar te, ett blommigt paket spillande de färger
jag själv aldrig använder, - & leende, mörka ögon.
jag saknar en familj men har också en ny här. en som staplat paket till frukost nere på ett bord i huset. en där alla har samma ögon som mörk sirap, får mig att känna mig som hemma.
en som skrivit kort till de där paketen. ord som betyder allra mest. congratulations our darling hannah.
12e september
jag har blivit kidnappad till bath.
staden är som en honungsgul labyrint av harmoniserad arkitektur,
varsamt blekt till perfektion över århundradena.
vi äter rökt kolja & dricker champagne till frukost.
går bågskytte-skola hos en goding vid namn sam, uppe bland de böljande kullarna.
jag sätter en perfect ten eller hit gold, som det kallas.
nybörjar-tur, men jag skulle kunna öva hur länge som helst där i höstluften,
spänna bågen & släppa tusentals gånger om,
medan sam skriker go vikings! m skrattar och pilarna viner fram.
vi delar magisk upside down blueberry cheesecake på bill’s
och allt fler av våra hemligheter och drömmar.
vi guppar i solnedgången, tillsammans med en hel massa folk
som alla viskar på olika språk, - i den turkosa, ångande poolen på thermae spa’s tak.
vattnet vi flyter omslingrade i, är från de varma källorna under staden;
som går från att glöda guld i kvällssolen till att glittra glas in i natten.
15e september
jag väntar på 'krigarna' i lobbyn på citizenM.
de har flygit hit för några dagars skissande på 2015 och är nu bara en taxiresa bort.
jag tittar ut över bankside's myller bortom glasväggarna; njuter av brasan, sorlet, capuccino'n.
jag sitter här, i min nya stad och allt känns outforskat. jag tänker på fälten utanför min
studio, på stillheten där och jag ler över kontrasterna.
att fylla år är att passera ännu en markör på något vis; mjukt,
men tydligt nerkörd i tidsmyllan.
för ett år sedan firades jag på bali; blev väckt av just krigarna
och en hel balinesisk familj med ljus i händerna och sång & rökelse i vinden.
hade någon viskat då, mellan fjäderkronor och kokosnötter, - att
nästa år, då vaknar du i en säng som är som ett enormt, vitt moln.
i ett vaggande mjukt & disigt, kashmirgrått london. du bor där. du bor där med en m, som du ännu inte mött.
han kommer att röra vid ditt ansikte och bära två stora, vita koppar te,
ett blommigt paket spillande de färger
du själv aldrig använder, - & leende, mörka ögon.
då hade jag nog skrattat.
då hade jag definitivt inte vågat tro det.
nu vet jag det säkert.
livet kan bli mer än du ens kunnat fantisera ihop.
det är precis som r.m. drake har skrivit;
don’t think.
it complicate things.
just feel, and if it feels like home,
then follow its path.
med kärlek,
h
flatlay | 2014 guide to the city of london | plate is a birthday gift from astier de villatte |
new favorite camera strap is abstract art by bloom theory | necklace is three hundred nights
volcano sand & gold peice by bjørg from kiss johanna
wardrobe | i’m wearing the dark moon lace kimono from upcoming
LW autumn’14 moon child collection
thank you | m for making my birthday a most amazing affair and for just being you |
baby sister e for clicking the shutter in the photo of me - please resume blogging, baby !
tech specs | canon eos 5d mark II / canon ef 50mm 1:1.4
© hannah lemholt photography
//
september 11th
to have a birthday is to pass yet another marker in a way;
softly, but clearly run down into the soil of time.
this year, today, i wake up in a bed that is like a huge, white cloud.
in a cradling soft & hazy, cashmere grey london.
m touches my face and carries two large, white cups of tea,
a floral patterned package; blooming and spilling all the colors
i myself never use, - & smiling, dark eyes.
i miss a family but also have a new one here.
one that has stacked presents for breakfast down at a table in the house.
one where everyone has the same eyes of dark syrup, makes me feel at home.
one that has written cards for those presents; words that mean the most.
congratulations our darling hannah.
september 12th
i've been kidnapped to bath.
the city is like a maze of honey colored, harmonized architecture,
gently bleached to perfection over the centuries.
we eat smoked haddock & drink champagne for breakfast.
we go to archery-class up in the green hills; a sweetheart named sam as our teacher.
i do a 'perfect ten' or hit gold, as it is called.
the 'bullseye' is beginner's luck, but i’d practice indefinitely there,
draw the string and release it, a thousands times over;
while sam screams go vikings!, m laughs and arrows sing in the autumn air.
we share a magic upside down blueberry cheesecake at bill's
and more and more of our secrets and dreams.
we bob in the sunset, along with a whole beautiful mess of people;
all murmurs in different languages - in the turquoise, steamy pool at the roof of thermae spa.
the water we float entwined in, is from the hot springs below the city;
going from glowing golden in the evening sun to glistening glass into the night.
september 15th
i'm waiting for 'the warriors' in the lobby of citizenM.
they’re flying in for a few days of sketching up 2015 and is now just a taxi ride away.
i look out over the bankside swarm of suits & briefcases, beyond the glass walls;
enjoying the fireplace, the subdued hotel buzz, the cappuccino.
i sit here, in the midst of my new city and everything feels unexplored.
i think of the fields outside my studio; of the stillness there and i smile at the contrast.
to have a birthday is to pass yet another marker in a way;
softly, but clearly run down into the soil of time.
a year ago i celebrated on bali; was awakened by said warriors and
an entire balinese family, with candles in their hands, song & incense in the wind.
if someone would’ve whispered then, among feather crowns and coconuts - that
next year, you’ll wake up in a bed that is like a huge, white cloud.
in a cradling soft & hazy, cashmere grey london.
you live there. you live there with an m, whom you have yet to meet.
he will touch your face and carry two large, white cups of tea,
a floral patterned package; blooming and spilling all the colors
you yourself never use, - & smiling, dark eyes.
then i probably would have laughed a little.
then i definitely would not have dared to believe it.
now i know for sure.
life can be more than you’ve even been able to dream up.
it's just like r.m. drake has written;
don’t think.
it complicate things.
just feel, and if it feels like home,
then follow its path.
x,
h
new favorite camera strap is abstract art by bloom theory | necklace is three hundred nights
volcano sand & gold peice by bjørg from kiss johanna
wardrobe | i’m wearing the dark moon lace kimono from upcoming
LW autumn’14 moon child collection
thank you | m for making my birthday a most amazing affair and for just being you |
baby sister e for clicking the shutter in the photo of me - please resume blogging, baby !
tech specs | canon eos 5d mark II / canon ef 50mm 1:1.4
© hannah lemholt photography
//
september 11th
to have a birthday is to pass yet another marker in a way;
softly, but clearly run down into the soil of time.
this year, today, i wake up in a bed that is like a huge, white cloud.
in a cradling soft & hazy, cashmere grey london.
m touches my face and carries two large, white cups of tea,
a floral patterned package; blooming and spilling all the colors
i myself never use, - & smiling, dark eyes.
i miss a family but also have a new one here.
one that has stacked presents for breakfast down at a table in the house.
one where everyone has the same eyes of dark syrup, makes me feel at home.
one that has written cards for those presents; words that mean the most.
congratulations our darling hannah.
september 12th
i've been kidnapped to bath.
the city is like a maze of honey colored, harmonized architecture,
gently bleached to perfection over the centuries.
we eat smoked haddock & drink champagne for breakfast.
we go to archery-class up in the green hills; a sweetheart named sam as our teacher.
i do a 'perfect ten' or hit gold, as it is called.
the 'bullseye' is beginner's luck, but i’d practice indefinitely there,
draw the string and release it, a thousands times over;
while sam screams go vikings!, m laughs and arrows sing in the autumn air.
we share a magic upside down blueberry cheesecake at bill's
and more and more of our secrets and dreams.
we bob in the sunset, along with a whole beautiful mess of people;
all murmurs in different languages - in the turquoise, steamy pool at the roof of thermae spa.
the water we float entwined in, is from the hot springs below the city;
going from glowing golden in the evening sun to glistening glass into the night.
september 15th
i'm waiting for 'the warriors' in the lobby of citizenM.
they’re flying in for a few days of sketching up 2015 and is now just a taxi ride away.
i look out over the bankside swarm of suits & briefcases, beyond the glass walls;
enjoying the fireplace, the subdued hotel buzz, the cappuccino.
i sit here, in the midst of my new city and everything feels unexplored.
i think of the fields outside my studio; of the stillness there and i smile at the contrast.
to have a birthday is to pass yet another marker in a way;
softly, but clearly run down into the soil of time.
a year ago i celebrated on bali; was awakened by said warriors and
an entire balinese family, with candles in their hands, song & incense in the wind.
if someone would’ve whispered then, among feather crowns and coconuts - that
next year, you’ll wake up in a bed that is like a huge, white cloud.
in a cradling soft & hazy, cashmere grey london.
you live there. you live there with an m, whom you have yet to meet.
he will touch your face and carry two large, white cups of tea,
a floral patterned package; blooming and spilling all the colors
you yourself never use, - & smiling, dark eyes.
then i probably would have laughed a little.
then i definitely would not have dared to believe it.
now i know for sure.
life can be more than you’ve even been able to dream up.
it's just like r.m. drake has written;
don’t think.
it complicate things.
just feel, and if it feels like home,
then follow its path.
x,
h
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