"in a paradox reality it's only natural to be out of order"
support_it
The beloved season

The beloved season

Autumn. The sun seems to be locked away behind a grey iron curtain – doing life. Suffering from her absence, we continuously gaze upwards in the faint hope of spotting traces of her somewhere, but are continuously disappointed. The heavens seem to cry in despair as we keep on with our daily routines, trying not...
beyond borders.

beyond borders.

borders. pigeonholes. labels. genres. categories. boxes. i could add even more terms to the list of imposed limitations, but ever so often we don’t even leave it up to others to box us in and define us, but do so by orienting and adjusting our thinking and acting along previously drawn lines / thinking patterns...