The Photographic Sense: November Train to 42//HAPPY BIRTHDAY MUM.

“Choo, Choo”, I heard the voice glimmer in the atmosphere, you see, I’m talking of this train, which is slightly wilting like my senses, I’ve always been a very fashionable lady, still is, I can work like a thunder for a dozen of Birkins, I am a very, rational lady, I only kill for the best, for the products that define my perfectionism. I am always judged as a big spender, but I always ignore the hate, they will pour down like the style running down the runway, you can never get enough of them, but they define your perfection, because they wish to be the person I define.

I believe that, living is just as hard as a model casting for Vogue, if you inhibit the perfect natures, you can shine as bright as a red lipstick, biting down the lower part of your chin as flawless as Marilyn Monroe, like a glam star you can never stop being. Tucking down either your bob, your weave, your pony tails, anything you can ever be. Like a party you shine bright on the living, like charity, you are WANTED, now it just works with your personality, your belief, the drip drops of your rose petal charms, and the whole world getting a copy of Vogue with your face on it, been there done that.

I am originally a ginger, I was and still am an innocent, though I like partying and laughing hard, I just find beauty in joy and fashion. They ask me, whether I’m a saint or a bad girl, of course I’m a Saint, in the state of not being perfect, but a bad girl, in the belief of perfection. Nobody is perfect enough, and models are mostly photo-shopped, whether you like it or beauty not.

Like eyeliner, well I don’t like crying under it, I like shining under it, like glitter, unlike Haley. Anyways, that’s just a piece of my thought. I’m actually casting for fashion here, that is why I am in a Louis Vuitton train looking train, well not exactly. It’s just where I’ll be headed one day.

Just a little girl living the dreams, I am just as real as red lipstick and rose petals. I travel down the wind of dreams and become as real as the writings attached in my body, the writing of fate and faith. I believe everything is granted by God and His art. I believe this ponytail will grow as big as the Marilyn Monroe bob.

A mixture of gas flies up the wind, as I gazed down my little faux fur coat, I check down my burgundy, snake skin Celine Trapeze, I see my bible lingering, with several rare diamond jewelry I got from my ancestors, a bag of make up, several bottles of nail polish, a pair of Chanel sunglasses, a pen, a diary, and several cash tuck up onto a snake skin wallet and a perfectly covered iPhone5,and of course my ticket. I also brought a suitcase full of my designer clothes, my laptop, my iPad, my hats, everything I can possibly find.

As the railway passes through the soft drizzling rain, I tuck in an Hermes scarf and possibly too much changing, I just perfected my runway down the field. You know, like this dance floor kind of few, everyone looked at me in such confusion. I was just, over reacting over everything, since I’m just a small town girl, and now I’m living the dream. It’s that kind of imagery, red lipstick down my facial features, I was just, overwhelmed.

Though another part of me experience such desperation due to goodbye-s, I promised myself that, through these dreams, this will not be the last goodbye. I can date everyone I think of, I can be anyone I want, through the freedom of expression and art. Goodbye, which is the hardest part, would all be worth it after my dreams, I believe that, it will just be another imagery of sacrifice for success, leaving everyone behind.

It’s not the fame I live for, it’s the art and glamour I live up to, it’s the beautiful glory God creates through these atoms of dreams like light bulbs recklessly bleaching their hearts to success, everything, is just a step ahead, a new revolution, until it is perfectly being sewn as a couture dress, a dress of dreams, a dream where art flies like dark particles poisoning our nature like a pair of spiked souls.

As I finished everything, my casting preparations and such, I just realized one thing I forgot to observe, looking for love in the end, as I tucked my polished nails onto my handbag, and I just bit my lip and smiled, there’s this guy I left behind, we used to go on dates together, he’s just a country boy and now I’m living my dreams like a new Dolce&Gabbana print which will have it customs being launched down the runway in any second, like a bestselling fragrance, carved with chemicals enriching the sweet essence possessed by the physical curves, like being backstabbed by Perez Hilton like any other star.

I end up in an envelope, I end up with dreams of love and fashion, I end up stopping a cab, dropping off these pair of nude pumps to another state of fashion. Another state of dreaming. Because the world goes on like my dreams, again these atoms fly away like pink hearts on a mellow aura. Forever, Wherever, I will live by art and fashion, where love never dies. That is how this finally begins and ends.

XOXO

PhotoVogue Features:

November Train to 42.

THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SENSE

PAR.Reinhardt Kenneth

Model.Wenny Sukamto

Stylist/MUA/Hairstylist.Diana Putri

Backstage.Dawi

Mr.Backstage, Yes He carves EVERY Art piece on my Portfolio!

Anyways, Happy Birthday Mum, You're a super huge inspiration to me, thank you for giving birth to me, for inspiring me, for motivating me, every exhalation from your red lipstick only makes me stronger, thank you for everything, you are more talented than shining and glimmering diamonds, work under pressure, breathe compassion, love GOD and Art. x

Lookey Lookey, Andudei from Doodle and Denim Jeans finally sketched me, this is based on an outfit post on my blog "Imperial Androgynie", not only he is a talented doodler, but he gives me the BEST solution, he is such a dear(also a lazy blogger and a pokemon master LOL). Thankyou Andu!x (oh and I look so sleep vampire-ish with a cool ARTPOP shirt, where's my stache?)