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‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin) profile picture

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀𖣂 angelic silk-skinned. /k/

Joined May 2012
Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)Photo by ‎⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎⁣𝒦 ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ ⁢︎ ⁣︎ ⁢︎ ⁣ (@_karin)
📨 / I do collect oddments: The hush before closing time, a flower with no business blooming there, the sort of beauty that never once asked to be immortalised. 사소한 것들의 편애, perhaps.
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Pray, what is a day but a pocketful of trifles dressed in sunday best? A gallery glance, a fig split like a secret, a little green thing growing where nobody thought to look.
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I have made a parlour trick of noticing: The fig’s sugared seam, the museum’s hush, the small green mischief growing between cracks. What a queer little fortune, to be so easily enchanted.
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<...> Some days arrive in lowercase, smelling faintly of tea leaves and old paper; others come dressed as a sonnet and refuse to leave. 어느새 평범한 날도 제법 사랑스러워졌네.
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Petal-pated, utterly besotted. :: 사랑은 참 요란하구나.
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A little orchard of almosts, a few sun-warmed recollections, and thee turning up in places memory swore it had already vacated. I call it sentiment; the heart, that incorrigible archivist, calls it evidence: 🍊!!
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Buttoned-up sentimentality is a peculiar little craft: I keep sewing summer into the hems of (ordinary days), hoping the season won’t notice me stealing its last few sun-drunken hours. (여름아, 아직 가지 마.) 🧿
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Pink silk psychoanalysis w a side of: 야릇한 낭만 / 🪷.. / läv.
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Chicago called and my footnotes answered; somewhere between a dog-eared chapter and a door left ajar, I’m learning that becoming is less a grand entrance than a quiet change of address.
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Developed in low light, kept in high regard: 필름 속에 남겨둔 밤의 잔상, a little flashbulb-fated and thoroughly dgaf by the evidence.
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Methinks the heart keeps peculiar ledgers: One pressed petal, a song played past midnight, thy face caught in the gloss of an ordinary Tuesday. 참 별것 아닌 것들이 오래도록 남는다. ♡
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