Humans of New York, HONY, creates a photographic journal of the stories of ordinary people on the streets. Be it sad, moving, happy, or just something so ordinary it touches us more as it could easily be us. Nothing much to say, perhaps the best people’s photographer I have ever seen. Here’s two out of the hundreds that really moved me.
These two were acting like complete teenagers. When I walked up, she was nuzzling her head against his shoulder. She giggled the entire time I talked with them, while he kept a big goofy grin on his face. And whenever I asked about their relationship, she clutched his arm, looked at him just like this, giggled, then said: “We’re not telling!”
“What’s your greatest struggle right now?” “I wouldn’t have volunteered if I’d known this conversation would be so long. But to answer your question, I’ve got a wife that’s sick. And I wish she wasn’t sick so that I could live life with her, and so that I wouldn’t have to be alone.”
link_ humans of new york
Everyone’s been late before. Unexpected situations happen to everyone. Personally I am late quite often when it comes to 09.30 morning lectures, or dinners with unwanted relatives. But just like how a day can be quantified by twenty four hours, and an hour can be quantified by sixty minutes and a minute by sixty seconds, similarly “being late” can be quantified into varying degrees of severity.
To be late to class, yes that’s not exactly good conduct, but it concerns yourself more than anyone else. To be late to occasions which negatively impact others though, is simply impolite. As I am typing this I am sitting in Starbucks sipping at an empty drink, watching people come and go, and waiting for a friend who was supposed to be here an hour ago. Why do people take this patience for granted I wonder? Is it my fault for tolerating it every time that they believe it is perfectly acceptable? How does it make sense to ask a person out yet be outrageously late? How is it even possible for a person to live an hour away be on time and yet the one who lives fifteen minutes away is not?
I can wait five minutes, fifteen minutes, in fact half an hour is within my tolerance level. Over an hour though, isn’t that breaching the point where “being late” simply becomes offensive? And I mean offensive, because the only reason a person is late is because the occasion is not important enough for them to be on time. When something or someone is important enough, you will be able to manage regardless. For a friend to stand me up for so long, I am not even mad anymore, just insulted at the realisation that I was worth this little.
update: waited for two hours …
Product “B_01″ sneak preview. The first of a line.
Handmade coasters, made to age with style. Keep it, gift it and use it until it wears away as proof of your coffee addiction.
One of my old structural models built with wooden sticks is now home to most of my jewellery, perfumes and lipsticks. Extremely easy to do-it-yourself, and tailor-made to your own needs.
porcelain bangle with gold engraving __ The Peak Galleria
semi-matte rose gold bangle __ H&M
plain rings __ Zara
‘O’ of alphabetical set rings __ number 9
‘dream, love, believe’ bracelets __ H&M
top hat and moustache necklace __ Langham, HK
perfume __ Tokyomilk
Dear [insert prestigious University],
Thanks for the diploma. It’s nice knowing that the most expensive purchase of my life is a piece of paper I can’t read.
Speaking of which, though the assumption that mail carriers are literate is reasonable, it breaks my heart to inform you that it may not be true. The instruction “Do not fold” was not followed to the letter. (No pun intended)
Still, crease or no crease, much obliged,
Posted by a friend who, with much gratitude to her University, has finally graduated.
Not for the faint of heart, fragrance to pique your curiosity.
Introducing TokyoMilk by Margot Elena, a brand renowned for their unexpectedly intoxicating scents. No one product in their line is similar to the fragrances normally seen on the market. Their sweet perfumes do not give off just a feminine sweetness as Chloe and many other luxury brands so. Their scents, regardless of type, all have this remarkable complexity in their formula which draws you in.
Their TokyoMilk Dark line is especially intriguing. Having tried all the available ones out at the store, I am sure they were beginning to get annoyed as I finally decided on La Vie La Mort #90 from the Femme Fatale collection. The curious thing about this particular scent is that I cannot fathom what it is. Normally by smell we automatically categorize things into ‘sweet’, ‘bitter’, or so on so forth. But this. It is like the smell of the forest, the smell of damp earth, the smell of grass in the morning, but also like the smell of candy, and also like the smell of dirt. There is bitterness within freshness within sweetness. But combined makes this perfume no less feminine than any other.
Strange yet addictive, truly objects to desire.
PS Their line of lip balms is also highly recommended, and the packaging is designed so beautifully they make perfect gifts.
Currently working with concrete I made this little container with leftover material, and the result was surprisingly satisfying. Having potential to serve as both a card or jewellery container on my desk, the decision is a tad difficult to make. That aside, I am loving the raw feel of the concrete; the slightly jagged edges, the skewed proportion, and the solidity of it all. The possibilities this suggests leaves me wondering what my next piece should be like; I can definitely see my studio desk organised by concrete assortments only.