I think this picture from The Sartorialist a couple of days ago is beautiful. Colour and composition etc aside, I love how it makes me feel; like she is about to look up and smile, and that I have an hour before the bookshop closes to go through these sale shelves and then look around me at the counter, mad-eyed, while paying, and wishing I had more time. Bookshops, particularly secondhand bookshops, are among my favourite places in the world. I love to scan shelves of browning books, occasionally picking one up just to smell it, doing the knowing "hmm" and feigned look of interest when I see a book I know I should have read but haven't because I keep re-reading I Capture The Castle or The Catcher In The Rye instead, and feeling that rare rush when a beautiful edition of one of my favourites pops up (which is why my library is littered with double-ups). If I get the approving nod from the proprietor on my choices (the last vestiges of my teacher's pet past; I also used to fist-pump when the film-geek at our old video shop complimented our selection), my joy knows no bounds; it's like I've found kin and country.
This isn't at all what I planned to say about this photo, but I guess it can't hurt for you to know where to find me if we're shopping together and I go missing. What I meant to say was that my favourite thing about this girl and her outfit are how expressive they are. I like faces and clothes that tell you something about the person they adorn; that's part of why I like clothes so much (okay, LOVE clothes so much, jeez). My understanding of life is a lot about the human desire to be known and understood. Showing who you are through facial and material expression is a simple way of trying to achieve that.
PS A song that I think fits the feeling of contentment this picture elicits.
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