February 10, 2015 / Post a Comment

"I may never understand why you left I guess I just have to accept this is the way it was meant to be. Kind of like how I never understood how the ocean just stops at the shore And why it doesn't wash away the land"

photo: Roberta Thitathan
text: Tristan Prettyman (never say never)


February 3, 2015 / Post a Comment

School assignment: create a photo series based on free interpretation of 50 Cent's song Candy Shop
model: Nora
(colors on the photos above, are a little bit off though)


January 28, 2015 / Post a Comment

timeless - thoughtful - fragmented

for a smaller school assignment based on a quick writing about our christmas vacation.
experimenting with glitch art

"slow days, contemplative days. family and silence. gift race during the last few days, like always. alone, just the five of us for the first time. not finding the almond, again. snow after christmas, quickly melts away. writing. waiting. i rarely talk to daniel and when he says he loves me i simply smile back and suffocate the words between my lips.
25. december. odense. the first time. nico and i. cocktails for too much money. cold streets, lots of people. familiar faces. the years reminder when doubt about life in another town hits you. the people, the city, a life i once loved but happily escaped. a weird night. awkward conversations and nicos smile with the big gap between his front teeth.
an expectant new years eve. a new year. a new beginning. something i feel for the first time in forever. drunk in a metro, we jump floating, timeless, moving into the new year. falling asleep among coats and the smell of strangers. an apartment bigger and more extravagant than i would’ve expected. ballet dancers still dancing elegant even when they don’t dance ballet. smiles."


January 2, 2015 / Post a Comment
On watching someone you love
Love somebody else
You will be out with friends
when the news of her existence
will be accidentally spilled all over
your bar stool. Respond calmly
as if it was only a change in weather,
a punch line you saw coming.
After your fourth shot of cheap liquor,
leave the image of him kissing another woman
in the toilet.

In the morning, her name will be
in every headline: car crash, robbery, flood.
When he calls you, ignore the hundreds of ropes
untangling themselves in your stomach.
You are the best friend again. He invites
you over for dinner and you say yes
too easily. Remind yourself this isn’t special,
it’s only dinner, everyone has to eat.
When he greets you at the door, do not think
for one second you are the reason
he wore cologne tonight.

Someone told you once
A soul mate is not the person who makes you the happiest
But the one that make you feel the most
Who conducts your heart to bang the loudest?
Who drag you giggling for forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in
It has always been him.

In his kitchen, he will hand-feed you
a piece of red pepper. His laugh
will be low and warm and it will make you
feel like candlelight. Do not think this is special.
Do not count on your fingers the number
of freckles you could kiss too easily.
Try to think of pilot lights and olive oil,
not everything you have ever loved about him,
or it will suddenly feel boiling and possible
and so close. You will find her bobby pins
laying innocently on his bathroom sink.
Her bobby pins. They look like the wiry legs
of spiders, splinters of her undressing
in his bed. Do not say anything.
Think of stealing them, wearing them
home in your hair. When he hugs you goodbye,
let him kiss you on the forehead.
Settle for target practice.

At home, you will picture her across town
pressing her fingers into his back
like wet cement. You will wonder
if she looks like you, if you are two bedrooms
in the same house. Did he fall for her features
like rearranged furniture? When he kisses her,
does she taste like wet paint?

You will want to call him.
You will go as far as holding the phone
in your hand, imagine telling him
unimaginable things like you are always
ticking inside of me and I dream of you
more often than I don’t.
My body is a dead language
and you pronounce
each word perfectly.

Do not call him.
Fall asleep to the hum of the VCR.
She must make him happy.
She must be
She must be his favorite place in Minneapolis.
You are a souvenir shop, where he goes
to remember how much people miss him
when he is gone.

- Sierra DeMulder, Unrequited Love Poem


June 9, 2014 / Post a Comment
photo: On the banks of the river Ganges, India, 1956 by Marc Riboud

My love and I has lately been reading a book, which size might scare one away. But the 936-page novel is one of those rare books, which will make you rethink all aspects of life from an entirely different perspective.
I fell in love after reading the first page, which in itself contains more beauty and life wisdom than some of the entire books you'll find on the shelves at the local bookstore: