"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>feel the rain on your skin; no one else can feel it for you, only you can let it in; no one else, no one else can speak the words on your lips…

>…drench yourself in words unspoken
live your life with arms wide open
today is where your book begins
the rest is still unwritten

benji and i drove down to his little hometown of wimborne, dorset this weekend for the wimborne folk festival. met the friends he grew up with. met the parents. explored the nearby seaside beaches of bournemouth. examined with wide eyes the colours of the channel waters, climbed steep hills, gorgeous dips, and stoney shores of Durdle Door, sang along to pop music during the long car rides around, laughed a lot, cried a bit, ate vegetarian food…and ogled the Morris-dancing-freaks.





is it just me, or is he missing an eye?




i love this shot.








she shells shea shells down by the shea shore




now that’s a manly chest



i love sneaking in photos of benji when he’s not looking


our blue steel photos




benji cant’ keep a straight face


i am officially a douche.







i love how benji is trying to hide his can of fosters in this shot. i see all, baby.




“you know, that Steffi Graf has quite the tush….I’M JUST SAYING!”



looking out over the cliffs & peaks of Durdle Door



that’s the door….


…and that’s my benji.

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