These are literally the only pictures I took this morning. For someone who wants to become a professional photographer (etc) I'm a pretty shitty photographer. Anyhow. GOOD MORNING lovelies! Hope you all are doing well this fine, yet very grey, Sunday. I sure am. Woke up at 7am and went to Hackney to model for a WEEKDAY campaign. Ready to be signed my an agency anytime now, thank you. Honestly love modeling so much. It's so freaking fun. Wish I could do it every day.

Right now, I'm having a coffee on Stratton Street, getting ready to go to my real job. I'm not gonna lie, that one is pretty good too. I just like the idea of being able to do something creative ALL DAY. Guess that's the only thing missing. Oh well. I'm gonna finish my drink (desperately trying to cure my hangover) then get to it. xx

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Went browsing for something warm and cosy to snuggle in during days like these. Tilted my head to the side, looked out through the massive window frame and realised that it's still raining. The cold London winds just makes me want to buy all of these beauties straight away. Honestly, I can't wait for summer to be here. I used to absolutely love the winter. Filled with snow, cold evenings and thick jackets. But now. No. I mean, I still love Christmas and all of that. I just really want it to be sunny. Is that too much to ask for? So that I then, instead of wearing an oversized jumper for the sake of keeping warm, I can pair it with some high-waisted denim shorts, classic white sneakers and look absolutely swag. As always. Such a dream honestly.

HERE // HERE // HERE // HERE //

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Nej älskling snälla stanna. Du vet att du är mitt allt.

Allt jag vill ha. Du vet att jag inte förstår,

jag är ansvarslös och ofattbar.

Men snälla älskling stanna.

Jag ber dig med hela mitt hjärta.

Vad gör det om jag kysser någon annan?

Vad gör det, när du vet att jag bara önskar att du ska förevigt vara min? När du vet att det är du, den enda jag bryr mig om, den enda som betyder.

Vad gör det när jag älskar dig så?

Du och jag vinner över alla. Vår kärlek är oslagbar och det finns inget bättre än du.

Tänk inte på henne. Hon betyder inget alls.

Ingen kan ge mig samma kärlek som du.

Dina händer är så mjuka, din tunga så len. Jag vill aldrig leva utan

din sköna doft, även när det inte är menat

vad som för mig tillbaka efter en grå dag av oändligt hat och vidrigheter.

Alltid du.

Mitt hjärta brister, min kropp, min själ. Allting går sönder. Jag faller i bitar. Jag faller ner till botten.

Jag vill aldrig mer spendera

en ensam sekund i vetskapen

att du kanske inte

väntar vid nästa.

Jag ber och bönar. Snälla, snälla ta mig tillbaka. Snälla, snälla jag gör vad du vill, allt du någonsin önskar.

Snälla, är tänk på vår framtid, alla minnen vi delat och än

Snälla, snälla, se på mig, jag lovar.

Ge mig din blick.

Hela din uppmärksamhet och alla dina tankar, funderingar. En sista gång innan jag går. Det är nu eller senare.

Men vad vet du om det.

Aldrig, aldrig, aldrig, aldrig mer. Jag ber, detta är allt jag vill ha.

Jag ber.

Jag ber.

Jag ber.

Och du tar mig tillbaka varje gång. Så tack min älskling. Tack för att jag slipper vara ensam.

Imorgon gör jag som förväntat. Allting igen.

Alltid allting, om och om igen.

Men vad gör det när jag älskar dig så?


- alla svin

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So, I went to this fashion week opening party last night and it just completely made me realise why I stated studying fashion in the first place. I have been so distant from that whole scene for so long now (three months, wow) that I had time to absolutely forget how much I love it. Not all of it. But some very specific parts. Like meeting tall boys and girls with massive foreheads, strong jawlines and no eyebrows (aka models in 2017), gossiping about designers and creepy middle aged men that's trying to hit you up with all the fake glamour they have to offer, dancing and asking for peoples Instagram - only to judge them by the number of followers.

No, I'm joking. There is more to it than that. And I never judge. Ish.

But I guess you have to go through the mandatory small talk in order to reach the truly good parts. The hey, you look gorgeous, what agency are you signed with? none? perfect, I am a photographer, here's my details, let's have a shoot together, let's try to fit in and stand out at the same time / I am a writer, tell me ALL ABOUT YOU so I can twist everything you say into some romanticised short story about broken hearts, loneliness, drugs and alcohol. The connections are always, for me, the most interesting and difficult part of it. Because it actually gives you the chance to create some pretty sick things in the future.

Oh yeah, I forgot my phone in my bag when we I was at the club (I hung my bag in the closet and just couldn't be bothered to go get it) so I don't have any photographic proof of my existence there. Oh well, nothing much to see anyway.

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Well, that clearly didn't happen. Two massive aperol spritz, some cheap Red Stripe, half a bottle of house wine later and I find myself dancing with strangers to top karaoke tunes at Canavans at 3am. Not too bad. But after those two carrots I had for lunch yesterday & the three hours of sleep I managed to get before leaving for work this morning, I gotta tell you - I'm definitely not feeling great today. Sleeping my way through the day. Why do I keep doing this to myself? The little angel on my shoulder keep saying to me Tilda self-love is key, have some respect for yourself. Unfortunately I tend to listen to the other, more disgraceful half that is screaming SHOTS 24/7. I need some new routines. Like now. Possibly to check out from London and move Bali for a yoga retreat that will last a lifetime. Or I could just sign up to the local gym, eat healthier food (who am I kidding, I'm already vegan, it doesn't get healthier than that), get better sleep and STOP DRINKING SO MUCH ALL THE TIME. Anyway, I have a few hours to recover and get ready to make the same mistake soon again. Can't wait.

At 6pm I'm gonna close the shop, go to Shoreditch and meet up with Adrian who is taking me to this fashion week opening party tonight. What an absolute dream it would be if it was hosted in my house so I could joint the crowd from my bedroom. Imagine. Also, I have zero idea what to wear? I'm completely lost. You know, it's just one of those days where you feel like nothing you own/have own/will own/ is ever going to be good enough. Like nothing looks nice anymore and you're so sick of everything hanging in your closet! Complete disaster. Is the whole pyjamas trend still going on? No? Too bad. I was never really a fan of that anyway, but it sure would be a good fit for tonight. Uuuuhhh, kill me now. I'm going to the office to take a nap. Bye!

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Hi. How are you? Good? Great. I know I have been a bit shit at posting lately. Sorry about that. But here's a mini update that I hope you will enjoy as much as I do. Right now, I'm sitting on a slightly uncomfortably bench inside Brixton market, with all this delicious food in front of me. Vegan pizza with olives and mushrooms & a aubergine something for starter. So. Good. I. Wanna. Cry. Think I might just. Delph, my beautiful dinner date, got something a little less vegetarian and a little bit more hey I don't mind eating dead animals. Hm. Guess I have to love her no matter what? Well I do. Anyway, have a great evening lovelies! Talk to you soon.

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Hope you all have a good cheesy straight people day! <3 I'll be in the bar if you need me.

Here's a collage to keep you happy.

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London är kallt.

Februari känns ensamt och innan jag fann dig hade jag ingen. Vem kunde tro att jag ens skulle få komma? Vem kunde tro att jag ens skulle få stanna? Aldrig hade jag kunnat drömma om mer. Du är ju allt jag någonsin önskat och nu finns det inget mer att ha.

Dem tre översta våningarna på huset försvinner och människorna sover under dimman. Fyra trappor ner och där ligger vi. Två älskare som glömde att lämna gårdagen bakom och som båda längtar efter mer.

Vi delar fortfarande samma säng, samma kläder, samma vinglas & känslor som förr. Glöden ifrån din senaste Marlboro brinner långt nere i askkoppen bredvid mina vita lakan.

När den släcks gör vi med det.

Somnar när våra lungor är sönderkyssta.

Andfådda.

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