imgoinghost imgoinghost-runaway


It was times like these that made Irey think that maybe she should be trying to find a way back home. 

It was raining, not the bothersome drizzle that could easily be forgotten, not the soft rain so welcome after a hot summer day, but a harsh and pounding rain that made one think the sky had sprung a leak. The redhead could barely see two feet in front of her face. She definitely couldn’t hear anything other than the constant beating of water on concrete. She had put on a jacket earlier to keep herself dry, but that was already soaked through. It was far past time to find shelter. 

The area of the city she found herself in was pretty far off the beaten track. It might as well have been a ghost town for all the people around. Half the buildings were abandoned and the other half were in varying states of disrepair. It suited her needs fair enough, though. She just needed to find an empty one that was dry. With a quick burst of superspeed she’d surveyed the possible buildings and had found one that nobody seemed to have claimed. 

All entrances were boarded up and there was a bright ‘CONDEMNED’ notice where the front door should have been, but the building itself seemed to be in decent shape. Or at least the roof was working, and that was all Irey needed at the moment. Her form blurred as she vibrated, raindrops skipping across her like a hotplate, and with a light humming sound she made it right through the boarded up entrance. 

Inside was quieter and thankfully dry. She vibrated again to get some of the rain off, half of it leaving as steam and half falling through her and onto the ground, leaving a small puddle. The aftermath left her hair frizzled and static-y but it wasn’t like anyone was watching and being dry was a bit more important due to the chill. 

That done, Irey stretched to get a few kinks out and walked forward to get settled in her home for the night. 

She really hadn’t expected anyone else to be there. 

Aaaaannnnd we’ve all made it through another week. HURRAH!! 

The sun is still very much on our side so keeping your ‘Style Me Friday’ bright and breezy we have you sorted from dawn until dusk. 

T-Shirt Smock Dress Blue Polka 

Oversized Denim Bomber Jacket 

Aztec Crochet Pop Sock Mint 

Leather Gladiator Boot White 

Candy Stripe Sunglasses Monochrome 



Portuguese natives Buraka Som Sistema are a progressive kuduro group, who have been touring and spreading their eclectic mixes around the world for about 10 years now. 

The group is an example of Lisbon-as-cultural-melting-pot, with members who were born in countries like Brasil, Portugal and Angola, all clashing in Lisbon’s ghetto Amadora.

The documentary, which is being screened all across Europe, documents the band’s pursuit of quality “world music”. Building a bridge not only between the movers and the shakers of the industry - like M.I.A, Skream, A-Track, Diplo and Benga - but also connecting the disparate points of inspiration that come from locations including Venezuela, Índia, England, France and Angola.

I have taken a further step in my fascination with such a place and my mind has been broadened by its peace. If you really indulge in these types of paradises, they can and will eventually become an addiction.

Caydale Mill from across the mill stream. by Isabella
“Caydale is one of those secret little dales that reward a walker who keeps off the beaten track. It is a sort of Doone valley, utterly shut off from the rest of the world. A little stream runs through the wooded ravine and old Caydale Mill is the only house in the whole dale. In the old days Caydale Mill ground all the corn for the surrounding farms, and the old cart-tracks are the only roads to it.” From “Striding Through Yorkshire” by Alfred J. Brown, first published 1938.



You want a holiday a bit off of the beaten track. Somalia and its pirates have been ruined by Johnny Depp, Pripyat and Chernobyl are now fancy tourist excursions. Libya? Perhaps a bit too soon.


Upon your arrival at Kabul airport a short 16km ride will take you to the centre of the city. From here on in the world, or chiefly Afghanistan is your oyster! For the security conscious there’s the Marriot Kabul, for those on a budget there’s… well absolutely anywhere; 1Euro = 64 Afghanis (the currency not the people). You won’t want to spend too much time in the hotel however, there’s a lot to see! Your first stop should be the Kabul Zoo - Home to around two hundred animals, and Afghanistan’s only pig. Don’t expect much from the Aquarium, it has been shelled repeatedly in the 30 years of war in the region and apparently rabbits and deer are thin on the ground due to their being so tasty for insurgents and rebels alike. Once you’ve ingested all the zoo has to offer it is time to make your way to OMAR Mine museum to take in a collection of 51 different types of land mines deployed in Afghanistan. The collection boasts unexploded ordinance, so please do not shake or touch the exhibits. If mines are not really your thing then you’re out of luck as the next attraction, the lakes of Band-E-Amir - and in fact any attraction outside of Kabul itself – requires you to traverse a heavily mined route to the ancient city of Bamyan. The city was formerly home to the two largest standing Buddha’s in the world before their destruction by the Taliban in 2001, due to their being an affront to Islam. It is apparently possible to still see the feet! If you’re lucky enough to be in Herat on a Thursday night, it’s poetry night for the locals. People, that is, men, gather to share stories both modern and ancient. Bring along your latest epic about the pressures of your life. The locals are sure to appreciate a touch of the west which hasn’t come from the barrel of a M16A2. For those sporting types there is Afghanistan’s national game; Buzkashi, or Horseback Goat Dragging. Described as “the wildest sport in the world” the aim is to drag a goat (or calf – the meat is tougher and the game lasts longer) carcass towards a white chalk circle. On horseback. Along with fifty other people. No women or animal lovers allowed though do stick around for the after game meal. If you manage to complete a tour without kidnap, you can successfully boast to all of your friends and colleagues that you joined an elite rank of tourists, currently only two, who have visited Afghanistan in the last ten years!

belonging: an elsewhere (within here)

i don’t like talking alot. sometimes talking makesnosense.

honestly? i’d rather just spend a day or two listening to the mundane sounds of the everyday (the sound of the wind filtering through the trees) 

Last week, there was this place i went to in West Oakland neareth the place i intern at.

This new place looked like an old abandoned house, graffiti everwhere, and old glass windows that were from another time. This new place seemed to be some sort of coop/popup used bookstore. 

As i was flipping through old, dusty, beatup books on social theory, i overheard a conversation between a group of folks sitting by the door. They were chatting about something like decolonial performance practices and strange music.

i got this like really nice feeling 

It was a feeling that welled up my b o n e s like a good kind of beer  that makes your body happy and fuzzy.

in this old tattered building, it felt like it did when I went to the transmasculine support group in Berkeley a week before:

i think i could call this place home, I said to myself.

And I mean’t the hell out of what I said.