in the garden | a short video

How to be at peace:

1. Identify the essential 

2. Eliminate all else

3. Listen to music outside

I hope you guys have all had a lovely week, here is a little video to get your Sunday started. 

x

lotus m.

july

July mood board - None of these photos or words belong to me, 

please click here for their sources.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

And there we are. 

Half of the year 2013, gone, 

poof. 

I wouldn't mind knowing where used months go, 

maybe in the same place as yesterdays 

as lost moments and as faded memories.

Hold on tight to this month though, 

I hope you have a good one!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Fancy a calendar? Download a beautiful one here.

xxox
lotus m.

Oh, and you can now follow my blog on Bloglovin, if you'd like! xx

wild typewritten pages i

The Hunger Games. 

There. I said it. It is the most awesomest phenomenalest greatest coolest actionpackedest bestest book ever! And it is my baby. And I love it so. It has become and obsession of mine. Would you like to know the best feeling in the world? Curling up with the red hard cover book Jess lent me, the one with the black mocking jay on the front and reading for hours and hours, and giggling, crying, smiling and aching for these realistic characters. Entering the world, the sad, but wonderful world of Katniss Everdeen, aged 16, a strong, passionate fighter; who is fighting to be free, alongside Gale (whom I have a not-so-secret crush on) and Peeta, her best friend and lover -- though she hasn't decided which is which (Jacob vs Edward anybody?).

Sigh.

Anyways, don't mind me looking out into the distance dreaming up fantasies, mainly involving Gale. On to some other news -- because it has been a while since I have posted on my blog -- I am writing a book at the moment, it is called 'The Wild Written Pages' and it documents my life. It documents my thoughts and my dreams, it is a piece of me to be read when I am twenty something and I thought I was just 'so cute'. Pah, I'm not cute. Since it's super private, I'll only be sharing parts of it here. So, here it goes:

At our Deli, every Friday, there is this girl that has pale red hair and green eyes. She is the sort of person that you can’t help but admire. She is very delicate and her hair is always in a loose bun that peeks under her ‘Deli’ cap. She smiles a lot and seems to like her job. She seems to be soaking in the scents of fresh olives and Parmesan cheese, the sights of the perfectly round, and slightly fury peaches and the aura of each person. Anouk and I call her the ‘Pretty Girl’. I bet that at 6:45 PM she slowly unties her black apron, folds it carefully and with it in her hand she walks to her boss, and say ‘Mike, is there anything else I can do?’ and he would shake his head ‘No, you enjoy your Friday evening, hon, you’ve done enough’. She would smile, say bye to the Deli, and walk off in her T-Shirt and skinny jeans. She would jump in her parent’s old dark green car, back up, and drive off. She would put on one of her favourite CDs and dance to the rhythm of the music. Then, she would park at her apartment, hop out, grab her handbag and fumble with the keys. Once she’d be in, she would flop down on her couch and grab one of the numerous books she owned – a worn copy of the ‘Hunger Games’, open it and start reading, reading and reading far into the night she would read.

I wonder if, in the future, someone might think about me as the girl who sits on the parks’ bench reading every Saturday or that young woman who works at the Movies for a bit of money and smiles to everyone who asks for a ticket… Someone they could look up to.

Hope you liked it! Be excited, because far more little snippets to come. (This does NOT mean I'm abandoning 'My Words And I', I'm just trying out something new)

Love, and popcorn,

~ Lotus

dear winter

Dear Winter,

Thank you for your twinkling, fresh, crisp mornings,
For the hot wattle bottles and steaming mugs,
For the colourful scarves and warm gloves,
For the sound of crunching beneath my boots,
For the pale, pale blue skies and white birds flying through these,
For the laughs and stories around the fire,
And the hot mushroom soup,
For the sharp wind making my face go numb and my cheeks, red

I've enjoyed your company.














Dear Spring,

Hello.