"Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again." 
- Juliet, in Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare


Feeling delirious, disorientated, questioning my identity whilst not wanting one without them. Fur coats packed away for the spring. Never get the same elation about summer clothes as I do about winter ones (which usually happens around mid-August when you've exhausted trying to look like you're still at a festival and loving life/in Ibiza and loving life). But excitement or no excitement, spring has slapped me in the face. And just when I thought it would never come, it's cracking the flags like the temperamental bastard it's always been. So yeah, I'm admitting defeat, but not before one last look of lust.









































So until next year, my loves! You're always on my mind.