…Branches, seas, bitterly went
into faraway eyes. Ursas
majors. voices…hushed. life. Flower.
He does not see the colour. He has the colour.
I make the shape. He doesn’t look at it.
He doesn’t give the life he has.
He has life.
Warm and white is his voice.
He stayed but never arrived. I’m leaving.
Frida Kahlo’s Diary, letters to her lover.
Published by Nassia Kapa
Nassia Kapa is the woman who writes this blog. She gets obsessed with songs she imagines herself living in and plays them on repeat mode. She loves coffee with an ice cube, airports, hugs and long kisses, would never say no to gin and tonic, to story telling book covers and shoes. By changing pair of shoes, you walk in different pace, directions and you see new people from another point of view. She lives in south London and loves taking long walks in neighbourhoods she has never been before.
Passionate about poetry in words, in feelings, in body language.
Touched by anything that can make her brain molecules obey her heart's strong will. Lost in Opera arias and ballet. Drunk in jazz and art.
Hello, my name is Nassia. I am not a photographer. I just feel, it happens to have a camera around.
© All of my photographs are Copyrighted and All Rights Reserved. They may not be used or reproduced publicly in any way without my written permission.
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