no talk. just walk.

my feet

I didn’t jog this weekend.

But I walked.

In high heels.


In black devilish little pointy heel

Did I walk and walk and walk.

On wide rough concrete floor

On the slimy tiles of the supermarket

Out onto the muddy road.


The next day still I walked

and walked and walked.

Swinging my exhausted feet

wrapped in soggy rain-soaked suede pump.

Stamped on the filthy paved sidewalk

Clanking up to the steel surface of busway station

down to the vast sea of shiny marble.


And what did I gain

from tiring my feet to hell

couples of  blistered toes

peeled skin and heels?


But I do really wish I have the same spirit in life.

Swing my feet and take a plunge

and walk and walk and walk

and not just talk and talk and talk.

| from under the blanket, accompanied by chips, tea
  and blasting twisted christmas songs


earth slowly keeps on turning

| wording: excerpt form Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

first i wanted this girl to be in some kind of ‘unfinished’ state,
so i did her outline with ink & put some highlight with some neon colored marker.
but when she popped into my photoshop worksheet,
i felt like experimenting with digital coloring.
so here she is. the girl who lives in a dream. her own dream.

[sketch: pen + stabilo marker | color: adobe Photoshop + watercolor | words: handwriting]