People that go around defending white henna artists have no idea the obscene amounts of money that they make compared to traditional artists. It’s been commodified to such an extreme that they’ve even imposed “artist-community wide,” restrictions on what constitutes “safe,” henna and the safe…


"A flowering plant, henna is used as a dye, particularly in hair colouring, and temporary body art known as mehndi (also written as mehendi or mehandi). The dye is extracted from the dried leaf and petioles of the plant. Mehndi is the application of henna as a temporary form of skin decoration. It is usually drawn on the hands and feet, where the designs will last the longest. "

(Source: )


My life lately has been full of counting. Counting steps in dance class, counting hours until class is over, counting money I spend on things I need (and a lot of things I don’t). Friends visit, and time counts down until they leave. I wake up in the middle of the night, look at the clock, and count the hours until I have to wake up. Sometimes I count calories, and then I don’t. (Or I do, but I conveniently forget the big latte I started the day with, and the cookie I had after lunch.) I count the number of steps I have to walk up with my big, heavy grocery bags (three flights, eleven steps each).

Sometimes counting calms me down, makes me feel like life is divided up into these neat, even, manageable slices. But sometimes it fills me with anxiety and dread, as if every good thing was running out of time and every bad thing was rushing towards me, 60 seconds at a time.

Most of all, though, it just gives me something to do. Something to focus on, during the vast stretches of my days and weeks where I feel isolated, when I am working alone at my computer, speaking to no one, or walking to nowhere in particular along the same sidewalks. 

I wonder when I’ll stop counting. I wonder when I’ll be able to loosen my grip on every little thing I do, and just live. I want my actions to be generous and deliberate, not hampered by second-guessing and impatience. I want to find something divine, some greater sense of liberating, driving purpose, without constantly stopping to consult every word of the fine print. 

you’re my soup snake.

(Source: finnickdair)


has this been done yet

You think ‘Okay, I get it, I’m prepared for the worst’, but you hold out that small hope, see, and that’s what fucks you up. That’s what kills you.

Outfit by:Faraz Manan


Outfit by:Faraz Manan

(Source: summertimemartini)