Smoke The Disease

From gloom to doom then back again, struggling against the disease over a complete weekend. Insomnia feeding spasmophilia, spiced up with a good load of allergies, curing one with black coffee and the other with sleeping pills (or was it the other way round), landing on an isolate island where only the blizzard of nonsense blows. Lost. And found again, it’s monday mo and had to be back on tracks. Scrambling legs and fog in my soul, a bit out of control. The sky is bluer than it has ever been this year, I feel the beauty and don’t seem to care, think I couldn’t care less, can’t take another slice of sun without enjoying the delight of nausea. Alright, sailed my ship alone to go back on a safer shore, here I come again to bury my bad thoughts under a heavy pile of work in progress and smoke away the disease in the morning fresh air, not to let it get me like an eagle stoops on a mouse. The magical formula to wake up better energies hadn’t changed a iota since last time I took my pen to draw a model portrait here — Kolfinna’s editorial work shines brighter than an asteroid and would make my day no matter how the -my- world goes by meanwhile. I sincerely smiled at the contrast between the serious of her expression and the mad dog she carries in her arms. I smiled too at the stylish trick (thanks to the vision and humour of Francesca Burns and Didier Malige who respectively edited the story and took care of the hair) associating a messy hairdo, a messy dog and woolen textures on her outfit. Shot for no less than Vogue UK’s August issue, shot by no other than Daniel Jackson. My only regret is not to see more pages with Kolfinna, I’d have loved one or two more shots of icelandic vitamins today. But, no reason to worry, got some more freshly printed stuff of hers still in my sleeve or, how to say, inspiration left under the elbow.