I just discovered the very interesting work of Helena Kvarnstrom through the blog 'Another rather lovely thing'.
I believe she's both a photographer and a writer.
Her photographs are gorgeous, raw and mystic. Her writing is haunting, but in a beautiful and pure way.
Excerpt from her novella Violence
your hand will run into my cheekbone and i'll become sand.
the times you fell in love me with were: when i ran out of the store and you found me on the floor in the bathroom and i would not stop shaking. when i could not breathe on the bench. when i borrowed scissors from your mother to cut up my pills and did not brush my hair. i am running out of reasons for you to love me even before the piss yellow snow melts and you know it is up to you now. you love me best with a wet face and swollen lips and i don't mind much.
Just some beautiful images from here
I feel like flying
I feel hurt and cheated
I feel good
I feel full of energy
I guess i just feel alive
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