Did you hear? We threw them mortar boards up in the air, and we graduated.
(Something I wrote in August this year)
It may just be tonight.
One night where I know I cannot breathe.
The unbearable screech of silence bounding off
the walls
is what it is.
Unbearable.
That bridge, the water, the old winding street –
I begged you to take me before it got too dark.
I had to take a picture.
We got there too late.
Nobody could tell if it was Lombard Street, or just some
straight avenue in the parade blueprint.
We got there and it was dark.
I won’t go north after Thanksgiving.
It gets too cold and then life takes over.
I have letters to write,
white envelopes to open. And seal. Open. And seal.
I hear my grandma’s sleeping on my bed now.
I can only sigh with relief.
That it’s not time yet. Because I can’t let go.
Anywhere but here.
One day geography will wash my lifeless body up the shore.
And tonight;
tonight is one of many nights where
I cannot breathe.
Goldsmiths ’10 MA Design Degree Show
We headed down to Shoreditch Town Hall for C and M‘s design degree show, which was centred around the theme of design for living. C‘s space blanket design that basically works a lot like a hug machine for two individuals separated by distance and M‘s shifting plant wall were designs I actually could see being incorporated into daily living, as were the designs for breaking bad habits and the most intriguing exploration of intelligent light. They aren’t just audacious contemporary designs that cost an arm and a supermodel’s leg (I once saw a documentary of a British artist pricing a doorknob he had attached to a blue wall for £9,000 and calling that a real bargain), but real specimens of how the blur between art and life could actually prove to be of value.
And you know, I tried to convince M to patent her plant wall design so that when I have my own apartment in the future, I can lay claim to a Martina Wu piece of my own!
[Tank tunic: H&M. Vest: Cotton On. Cardigan: H&M Men. Tights: Accessorise. Necklace: Topshop. Shoes: Emporio Armani. Bag: Kenneth Cole Reaction.]
While B took J and me in search of an elusive store on an elusive street somewhere in the maze that is Soho, we ended up discovering so many stunning little nooks and crannies that I never even knew existed. Vintage stores without the droves of bounty hunters synonymous with Brick Lane, kitschy prints and stencilled masterpieces hanging in shop windows, bookstores that instantly take you back 50 years, and the most quaint of watering holes I’ve seen in a long time. Have I really been in London for so long and not even once ventured past the high street? I should be so ashamed.