thanksgiving

this year i am thankful for love, opportunities, my camera and the kindness of strangers. i am so thankful sometimes i smile outloud and as hard and long as you might try you could not break my spirit. 

 for my first thanksgiving i was flown across the country (from fast-breathing new york city) to san francisco, to spend the day with zelda's family (thanks dearly to the kindness of her beautiful mother). i stayed in their castle of a home, on a cliff over water. in the sun-hazed distance you could see the san francisco bridge, like a tiny magnet in the sky. i looked at it through the glass and thought (as i often do) that this is something i could never have imagined happening to me. 

their home was so filled with art i felt like i was wandering through a gallery. a museum of an extravagant life i couldn't relate to. a secret world you needed a key for.

thanksgiving day was being prepared days before. chefs filling the kitchen and men and boys lifting furniture here and there, moving boxes, setting up tents. i knew something fantastic was being created and when it all came together it was like magic. there were psychics, a famous magician, a photobooth, champagne glasses that never emptied, waiters wandering with plates of beautiful foods and the hubbub of blissful children running wild under our feet. as always i watched it all through my camera. 

thanks to cheesy american films i spent the night imagining that when it came to dinner we'd announce the things we were most thankful for. even though it never happened, in my head i heard myself say 'most of all, and as cliche as it may be, i am thankful for life and the lives of those around me.' and that means you too, dear readers. you give me a reason to photograph everyday. i have so much loyalty for you and without your love for this blog it would not exist and i would one day forget the little details. 

black and white action by my lover

my brother's birthday

today my once-super-cute little brother turns the rotten old age of seventeen. luckily he is a kind of peter pan who refuses to grow up and lives in another world (online). he spends all his time there, with short gaps inbetween where we might catch a short but sweet conversation with him. 


happy birthday zake, thank you for sharing a mother and father and a childhood with me. thankyou for making cheesy jokes about your online girlfriends and forever laughing at yourself so we don't feel bad doing the same. and sorry for throwing a full bottle at your head when you were only 2 days old, but atleast it explains a lot of things. kidding.


don't grow up too fast, it's overrated anyway.


love, nirrimi.

sleep in peace, part two

model: courtney @ priscillas

hair: luke davis

makeup: vanessa collins

styling: jules sebastian

sleep in peace, part one

model: courtney @ priscillas

hair: luke davis

makeup: vanessa collins

styling: jules sebastian

if i were an indian

when i touched my feet on melbourne soil and breathed, it smelled of home. i love the way australia smells, it's a sweet, warm and briny. like being on the top of a hill above the sea.

these are a few, quick self portraits i took today before the sun set, after an artist friend sketched me and i realised i hadn't taken any in a long while. the headdress belongs to my friend living here. 

here is a picture of my knee from the fall, you can't see the extent of the bruising but it's still pretty gross and very sore. my elbows are also purple. but i like scars, they remind you of things. i have a big scar from a motorbike exhaust burn at the back of my calf. it was from when me and matt first visited indonesia. it was second degree and i can always remember at the time i thought matt looked more hurt than i felt. there is something reassuring about having someone care more about you than you do. especially when you're as hopeless as i am.

flying

i wake to icelandic music and a sleepless ache. i'm a little sad because it's a day to leave all the new things i've fallen in love with, but it's something i've adjusted to. i pass in and out of sleep until it is late, then i shower and dress and begin to pack my bag. i'm very good at this now because i hardly own anything anymore. my camera bag makes up most of the space and almost all of the weight. i hug the people i was staying with for a long time. they tell me they love me and i almost don't care if i miss my flight. but then they leave and it is just me alone in the loft. it overlooks brooklyn and you can see the empire state building at night.

things used to be different, it used to tear me up to leave places and people i love. but these days it is happening so often i almost don't have time to be upset. a friend told me not long ago that i've grown a second skin, that there is a hardness to my eyes now. if i was as naive and sensitive as i used to be, i know i wouldn't be able to do this. instead of thinking about what i am leaving, i think about what i am coming to. it's all an adventure.

i could hear the taxi honking it's horn on the street so i left, the door closing and locking behind me. there were eight flights of concrete steps to the ground and my suitcase was more than half my weight, heavy with all the books and presents for my family and lover. i was scared of missing the taxi which would mean missing my flight so i tried to move quickly but i could only lift it one step at a time. on the third floor the weight put me off balance and i fell down the steps until i hit the landing. i lay there for at least a minute. everything was quiet but the taxi and it's incessant honking. i felt like each was going to be the last and i was going to miss my flight. i felt bruised all over and i kept saying matt under my breath like he would suddenly appear and look after me and love me. but i was completely alone. my tights were wet with blood and the fall had ripped through my dress. i was softly shaking. i hated myself for thinking i could do this on my own, i just wanted to be home with him again, safe.

when i moved all my bones hurt but i tried again, more slowly now. everytime i lifted the suitcase i felt like my knees were splitting open. a lady with dogs came up the steps and saw me struggling and asked if i needed help. i tried to say no, i'm fine but my voice broke halfway through and i started sobbing and said i'd fallen and i was hurting. she told me to wait at the bottom with her dogs and slowly she brought my suitcase down. i said thankyou many times and she smiled. the taxi driver almost spat when she talked to me but i didn't care that she was mad because i was in the taxi and i wouldn't miss my flight and in a month i would see matt and he would kiss all my cuts and bruises better. i realised in the taxi i'd forgotten my phone but i didn't care about that either, i'm always leaving something behind and it's better my phone than my camera or journal.

now i am at the los angeles international airport. it reminds me of a large, mostly empty hospital. you're trapped in here and forced to pay $15 for a sandwich. but the last few minutes flying over were beautiful, there were fireworks exploding in the sky below and i listened to vashti bunyan sing 'here before' and couldn't wait to take my children flying. in 20 or so hours i will be in melbourne, back to the warmth. and soon after sydney and after that, home. on christmas day matt will fly to me and we'll finally be together again. everything is always okay, and if it isn't, it will be.