It WILL grow back like a starfish!

Mr. Muscle forcing bursting
Stingy thingy into little me, me, me
But just "ripple" said the cripple
As my jaw dropped to the ground
Smile smile

It's true I always wanted love to be
Hurtful
And it's true I always wanted love to be
Filled with pain
And bruises

Yes, so Cripple-Pig was happy
Screamed " I just compeletely love you!
And there's no rhyme or reason
I'm changing like the seasons
Watch! I'll even cut off my finger
It will grow back like a Starfish!
It will grow back like a Starfish!
It will grow back like a Starfish!"

Mr. Muscle, gazing boredly
And he checking time did punch me
And I sighed and bleeded like a windfall
Happy bleedy, happy bruisy

I am very happy
So please hit me
I am very happy
So please hurt me

I am very happy
So please hit me
I am very very happy
So come on hurt me

I'll grow back like a Starfish
I'll grow back like a Starfish
I'll grow back like a Starfish
I'll grow back like a Starfish

I'll grow back like a Starfish
I'll grow back like a Starfish
I'll grow back like a Starfish
I'll grow back like a Starfish
Like a Starfish...

By Antony and The Jonhsons

Source: The Fashionisto

 Stone in the Creator of Devotion

In Vogue Hommes Japan 5

Ph: Matthew Josephs

Models: Abiah Hostvedt; Others

After all, I'm still a child...

Source: unknown

In: Vogue Paris August 2010

Ph: Mario Sorrenti

Model: Eniko Mihalik

That was the point: suddenly, all so clear, so perfectly doubtless, nothing wrong, always such a magnificent sense of opportunity…happiness…not the beginning, always the moment!

“Once upon a time, there was a gift, a tiny little box crafted with the most peculiar parchments. Many said there were leafs and diamonds; certainly it was the imagination; others described flames wrapping the box, while water proclaimed her place freezing the gift’s padlock…I’ve seen it: the dark flames sucking all the light around (they must burn), the tiny spark of the ice shining, as it was showing the move of the key towards the moment of the opening night. I don’t know why the padlock had been frozen, neither why it was in such a shiny state of objectiveness. Well, if I may, let me introduce a new meaning for this word. Objectiveness: the capability of an object to seem an object, more or less the personality of an inert thing. So…where was I?…oh, yeah...the state of objectiveness. My impossible mind thought that the padlock may be waiting for the key to come back. Where is that silly key? My curiosity lend her hand towards the need of knowing about the content of that majestic box, so I sent to my body the request for that key, and so began the confusion of a savage search…Where it is? Where it is?...behind the wooden door of the swimming tree? No. Perhaps near the talking watermelon. Nothing. Could it be inside something? Well, If I was a key where would I hide myself? Let me think it clearly: I am a key; I open something; something is important; and more important than that is the thing that something is holding; so, I’m the door to a precious thing, a thing that needs to be guarded…definitely I would hide myself inside something too…regarding the piece of art that is that outrageous box, the key must be well guarded. Let me think again: mmm, inside something so? But what? Looking around what do I see? Trees, a lake, a door to nothing, a pot inside an invisible vase, lots of chairs blooming from a huge pine tree, grass and a bed near my feet, oh I forgot, me, a moa (such a huge bird)…weren’t them extinct? Perhaps I’m dreaming…but still, this is a sublime exercise for my mind, so I must keep on going. Concentrate silly mind. The key: no…every spot seem so lame; no way, in a dream of mine, would a key hide in such vain places; the place must mean something, that I’m sure. What is the most special thing here? I’ve tried everything! Wait…I didn’t try myself…could it be? OH…AH, AH, AH (cough)! There it is…THE KEY!...Where have you been?? Doesn’t matter…let’s open it!

The moment the key put her sense into the padlock, meters away, the ice started to melt and the need for each other bloom in such a rage…suddenly the key flew from Her hand, suddenly the box was open…

“OHHH!!! I’m not seeing another key, am I? Now I must find the meaning for this happening too! Luckily I’m a curious girl…and smart too…such a pity living this gorgeous box behind! Sorry Box, but I’m afraid that I can’t touch you…My skin is too fragile!”

And so she run out of time…running from box to box…ignoring the perfectness of each and every one…She couldn’t see that the good things pass us by, that the end is not THE MOMENT…Always the HOURS between us…Always love between us…The hours to see the river flow…let us flow by the HOURS.

Craving for your heart...

Long ago there were some stories, stories about a soul full of memories...There were times about certainty, times about courage, times about love, times about lust, times about angry, times about rage... There were times. I'd like to tell you one of those stories: the moment when the soul tries to explain to the carrier the truth about love, rage and innocence. Well, she cried: "Long was my wait to know you, long was the time to let you in, now I know what you are, not to be allowed to sink in!"...How can I trust my innocence? - he asks. "Learn to cope, learn to see what is real, not what is delusion"...Can I forget whom I love? - He tries. "No, not at all...seek the past, purge the present, erase the future, proclaim the memories, and feel free to die!"...Do I need to die? - Wrong question for the carrier. "Do I seem lost? Do I seem vain? Why don't you love me instead???" - Soul yells. "No matter how beautiful you are Soul, no matter what you are...I'll always love others instead...a problem of my head. This was the time, and I will align...I see your beauty, I feel the northern wind telling me to change, and I will! Why can't I learn?" - He tries to rest. There was a turnabout a month before...the pores crumpling down the whirlwind of lust...he lost...passion, oh passion...craving thy heart for sell...oh desire...telling him to go...oh reason...vanished! Time comes to meet the confusion of thy mind...slay the earn for touch, make him earn too much, let him love, teach him the cost, the ways of lost. And so it was...craziness turned into savage moments...moments that became memories...memories that became meaningful...means that have met love. Oh...Why? He lost...And then, far way, love talks again: "3 minutes and I'll rape you! Freedom is the thing you must! I'm not lust...make me go or see the trust my rage can free." "Why don't you see me? Now I've learn to believe me...Life is great as a teacher...this is a picture of how raging people meet the secret: I've grown my heart; I love every part; I'm free to feel every single spark; I know what's worth the effort...I'll meet every sense...I'll feel immense...I got the way, really...I would see it anyway, secretly."

Source: Fashion Gone Rouge

In Interview - September issue

Ph: Mickael Jansson

Model: Mariacarla Boscono 

Note: Nudity
Just an outstanding work from one of my favourite models.