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?