I am a soul gone to seed

Nassia KapaJune 20, 2016photography

I lit the candles and let the taste of the first sip of yet another cheap Côtes du Rhône melt with a deep inhale of strong cigarette in my head as I watched the rain fall on my windows. I undressed and got under warm water. Human body is a mean of creation, gives birth to senses and home to feelings, and gives justice to things we create out of heart.
In the middle of the night I eat Mirrors
|The dead Queen of Bohemia, Jenni Fagan|

The postman knows
I never sleep
jellied eels and champagne
I don’t need
the soul ache
the fear
stubble
too rough for sunlight
hours of feed
the world asleep
stroke cheek to nose
and cry
I am a soul
gone to seed
the fictional stories
we tell ourselves

when we want out

27641528706_39d9191d4d_k — Rain is… wet skin on human flesh warm like the sun on dry lips

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. View all posts by Nassia Kapa