thursday

I came across this image in an old ELLE magazine today whilst looking for material to put together a VM board. It's a woollen tube dress, Sonia Rykiel by Jean Paul Gaultier, created for a tribute show celebrating Sonia's 40 years in the fashion industry. I am currently distracted however by the letter that was awaiting me when I came home this evening. As my front door is an emergency exit fire escape covered in graffiti down an alleyway at the side of a pub beside a chip shop and infront of a block of council flats, I was never expecting to receive post. But there it was sitting at the bottom of the stairwell. A letter from a boy. A boy I am growing to love by the minute where I want to call him up and hang out with him, where I want to sit drinking coffee, where I want to listen to music, where I want to call up in the middle of the night, where I want to go out and get drunk and dance on the furniture, where I want to wander aimlessly in the streets, where I want to go to look at exhibitions, where I want to cry and tell my thoughts to, where I want to hug and be beside. But where I don't want to kiss him. Only sometimes do I want to kiss him but only the times when I want to kiss anybody and he's so lovely. It wasn't a love letter, it was a letter of apology of love. It made me laugh and then it made me cry. All the time I'm wondering why. Why he likes me so? and now why he's so sorry so? and will we ever reach the happy place of mutual love in a platonic friendship? Am I still fooling myself that boys and girls can be the best of friends without sexual attraction coming into the equation on one or the others behalves?