find some beautiful place to get lost

It has been a while. 

A good while to be honest.

A while where I discovered new music, got lost in literature and daydreams on the metro and everywhere imaginable and unimaginable in Paris. Sometimes accompanied by a friend, a beutieful boy or 

tune.

Sometimes completly alone.

There were such events as the fashion week, brass concerts, flea markets and wine coloured nights and eventhough everything seems beyond belief, nostalgia hits me somedays out of this autumn-clear sky 

and it makes me wondering:

when you are a child, you say things like, my life will be like this, this and this...

  somehow such an attitude towards life and expectations turns into something else over the years. 

Into "C'est la vie."

I'm not there yet, but even cottoncandytime ends someday like the amazing Lemmy Killmister said:

"The older you get, the less you can believe. It's not your fault, you know. It just comes to you that everything isn't corn flakes and skittles and beer."

and  all we can do to not go there is...

 photography Cecil Beaton and me

...dancing in the street



... is a little trashy song by David Bowie and Mick Jagger.

The kind of trashiness invented by David Bowie and he is probably the only human being in this universe, that looks good while holding and keeping it.

It's a weird and strange late summer. Still inhabiting some magic and august sunshine.

 I blew the last dandelion lately, wishing something almost impossible and I catch myself whispering a farewell to every butterfly that crosses my way while wondering where this year has been and why time is always passing way too quick, when you don't want it to pass at all.

Just to stand still in other moments.

All we can do is play music and dance in the streets of Paris or wherever in the world as long as this late summer-early autumn season lasts

and

get lost in daydreams.

photography by isabelle küster and jason nocito and me

related bands mad noise and not even maybe

we are always in stories

Stories in stories in other stories and you never know where one ends and a new one starts.

Everything is a frictionless flow.

Just in books stories are seperated proper.

Sometimes I start to miss a passed plot line and the people that belonged to it,

but you never know, if a story is already over,

maybe it just hasn't found the right time yet. 

photography manuela domantis and many others

...if your light dies...

...we have to draw the colours to the skies...

forgot my key, was trapped in the attic,

fell in love with 

Agnes Obel.

Her piano garnished voice is the perfect soundtrack while being lost. May it be on the subway, in the woods, somewhere else in this universe or in the attic.

photography by aaron feaver and me