Anxiety. Screen fatigue. No sleep. Complicated jackets.

White Rats III by Broken English Club  — metallic banging and despair.

Lukewarm Nescafé and cigarettes.

It’s almost time for work again.

Our world ends at the doorstep. Yet out there, somewhere, they’re making garments that cost £1,485.

Did I ever understand the point of a Sacai jacket like this? I think I did, once.

My head’s full of marbles. Who’s going to buy it? Where are they living? How does it even fit into life anymore?

A suit jacket and an MA-1 chopped together. Schizophrenia with sleeves.

I might sew a Commando sole to a beanie.

I’m sick of hearing that ITV drama is sponsored by Seat.

The sun’s shining, but I’m not.

Our tulips have found a second wind. Where’s mine?