Annita Maslov

I stumbled upon this artist's tumblr and was just really captivated by her works. They had a hint of Audrey Kawasaki in them, slightly similar but still vastly different in terms of feelings, i later read that Audrey Kawasaki was one of her earlier inspirations. Audrey Kawasaki's work has this delicate, quaint and whimsical fragility to it; makes me think of wood nymphs and water fairies and japanese kappas and kois, very japanese folklore i guess. And Annita Maslov's work just makes me think of vulnerability... raw inner vulnerability and that feeling just grows on me, each time i look at her works, i fall in that more bit of love with it. Oh plus, she's pretty to boot ;) like a little pixie.

Art by Annita Maslov

Yesterday was a good night, lying down on the skate ramp staring at the night sky, strangely quiet company, staring at heart shape clouds that transformed into mammoth elephant clouds who were chasing after sheep. I appreciate such tranquil simplicity, it soothes me like a lullaby, calming the ongoing turmoil thoughts that i usually push aside. I was never close to the two on that level, i rarely ever am with people, but i actually found that one brief moment of closeness in that quiet. I guess opening up to someone doesnt always have to be sharing what's on your mind, verbal, external, letting your thoughts be known... it's also letting someone in on that moment when something's wrong, when something's troubling you, when something means something to you, letting them in on that knowing at all... means alot.



As i sat huddled at the backseat alone, my head on the window to comfort that lightheaded buzz... everything ran through my head. Every thought that i had just went by, not the speeding pass faster than you can think that i expected, it was all good. Everything just nulled to this point of alright whereby the thoughts just float by, no emotions attached, just like clouds in the night sky, or glass unicorns in my mind.



Everything does happen for a reason. Sometimes i question my existence in a person's life, what i even mean at all, whether they even cared, why i seemed to them what sapoerna is to me, a coaxing comfort at the moment. It does bother me alot, I'm not devoid of emotions like a cig, i can feel the hot and cold and hot and cold and hot and col... but i also know that i'm sometimes sillier than a stick.