Dress - Berskha // Cardigan - KappAhl // Headscarf - Holzweiler // Minimalistic rings - Still With You // Signet rings - Tom Wood // Bracelet - By Benedicthe// Shoes - Bianco
Life is about more than selfies and hashtags. "That's rich, coming from you", the realistic and pessimistic critic in my head tell me. I wrote that on Instagram yesterday, and someone, perhaps unknowingly clever, continued my statement with; it's about ice cream as well.
It's the small things in our very busy lives we tend to forget. The most important moments of them all. Like that one time I stepped on a bumblebee. It felt like my big toe was on fire, my whole foot, in fact. It took my step-aunt half an hour to figure out that we should remove the poisonous tail-thingy. I was about twelve years old, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I had a very boyish hair cut and wore red floral shorts. I still watch my step when I walk barefoot in the grass, and I learned something very valuable from the whole experience. Don't step on bumblebees.
Or one of the times, last fall for instance, when I was walking to my very patient psychologist and ended up being late to my appointment because I lost track of time running back and forth through an ocean of leaves. And Instagramming it, of course. I never told her why I was late in the first place. How embarrassing would it be to admit that I have this never ending lust/urge/need/compulsion to re-experience childhood memories? Or would it?
I try to take all these things with me; the small painful things and the manically fun stuff. I secretly, and openly, act like that kid we're supposed to bury deep inside of us as we grow older. I dress up in my finest, even though I'm not going anywhere - and I eat Ben & Jerry's straight from the box in the middle of the night when I know no one is watching me. And it's OK. It's all these things that make up what we in sixty years will refer to as our life.