to exist in a haze, and to know you're there is so satisfying. it's like putting on a satin blind fold so that the music you're listening to sounds better because you can't see the cob web collecting more dust in the corner or the stack of magazines that needs sorting. or pinching your nose so you can't taste but only feel the grain of whatever you're chewing. admitting to being able to achieve this state of selective ignorance can be mistaken for arrogance because it is basically saying i know everything, here is what i choose not to allow to exist in my conscience at the moment. but it isn't really. it's actually admitting that all the senses and intuition and criticism can be so overwhelming because they affect so deeply they can't be allowed to storm simultaneously. and it's also not about being pedantic in thought but letting visual, auditory and the likes take over without the voice of reality gnawing out your skull. it makes my world that tiny back room in my grandma's old house with sheer white curtains that let the light in so perfectly i would just sit there by myself. it also makes for undying inspiration and a whimsical levitation of the typical. when i try to envision this haze, aside from my own favorite blurred memories, i keep coming back to photos like these. anything that is mythical, lo-fi, or makes no sense at all really. this also explains my penchant for double exposures, chiffon, lace, and telling everyone and anyone about my dreams.
in a past life i was either a sea nymph or a member of a cult, or both.
(all other photos without credit are from weheartit, or ffffound)