The Unicorn Diaries

2009-11-02T18:00:00.008Z

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

2009-10-12T22:15:00.004+01:00

2009-10-12T22:01:00.003+01:00

2009-10-12T21:48:00.004+01:00

2009-04-23T20:04:00.008+01:00

My Time Capsule.
There are diaries and dresses underneath. Letters from Kitty.
Everything I couldn't bare to keep.

2009-04-21T13:08:00.000+01:00

Sketchbook pages from an old project.
I miss it a little, the bullets we shot through books.
Now it's all about shipwrecks and you'll not feel the drowning.

2009-04-19T22:50:00.007+01:00

The Imperial War Museum.
I went here for help with my homework, but I couldn't stay for very long. Hurts. All of it hurts.
It's so.. I can't understand, can't comprehend. In part, it's more a graveyard than a real graveyard could ever be.
I wish I didn't have this great need to know about it all. I wouldn't feel so monstrous.
But I am realising that it's a fault of my own; being much more concerned with pasts, than I've ever been with futures.

In other news, I woke up this morning with a huge want to draw Bear Bonaparte (a grizzly bear dressed in Napoleon's clothing).
I shall start before I sleep.

2009-04-18T22:25:00.002+01:00

The beautiful penmanship of Ray Johnson and photographs from the 'Gathering of Strangers' exhibition at Haunch of Venison.
Daniele Buetti, Polly Morgan, Jannis Kounellis... tremendous.

2009-04-17T23:00:00.000+01:00

Drawn whilst talking to Pru.

I feel a little stuck tonight. Not stuck betwixt spiderwebs, or enveloped by some form of deadly treacle. But, stuck within myself. It's most perplexing.. I wish I knew how this feeling came about.

I'm writing to Thibault again. Thibault brings me great comfort, but I always leave the wretched door open and then great heaviness makes his way in too. I'm not sure which is worst; to be with, or to be without.

I suppose it needn't matter. I doubt that this worry shall still belong to me in the morning.

Bear Bonaparte is having to wait a small while. I started a new drawing project at art school and I'm irretrievably lost in it. But I promise not to forget.

p.s,

A tiny book that I made for Rosianna,

2009-04-14T22:22:00.005+01:00

Photographs from when Papa took me to the Walter Rothschild Zoological Museum.

2009-04-11T00:10:00.000+01:00

Means the world to me.

2009-04-06T02:45:00.012+01:00

Went to see The Royal Ballet's 'Swan Lake' a little while ago.
Still keep thinking about it a great amount. Act IV quietly ruined me.. half the people in the orchestra stalls were small buttoned-up-messes too.
I can't remember my train ride home.
I can't remember the After.
I remember the Before, the black cherry bubblegum, the broken book, the black and the white, the worry. Constant, constant worry about all the double yous. Winter and War and Wolves and Wills and Won'ts.
Double yous are the worst for worries.

My Time Capsule is coming along, albeit slowly.
& a book for Otto called 'Here Be Dragons'. Which is not about Dragons, or Being, or Here. It is about feeling afraid. Of the space between you and me, the dark, the unbearable vastness of oceans, concrete time and never waking up.

But not dinosaurs, because he doesn't believe in dinosaurs.

2009-04-06T01:32:00.003+01:00

Everything I was, everything I am, everything I will be.

2009-04-05T22:59:00.006+01:00

Two things I will always, always love;
Nikolai Alexandrovich Romanov and Swan Ghosts.

2009-03-27T12:46:00.003Z

2009-03-24T22:58:00.007Z

A very early morning visit to The Natural History Museum.
It was empty, utterly empty.
The Blue Whale doesn't frighten me anymore. In a peculiar way, I wish that it would.
p.s,
The writing in the last photograph is written upon a wall inside my art school.
I don't know who it belongs to.. if it belongs to you; I am sorry.

2009-02-28T22:03:00.005Z

From the tiny drawingbook that I take with me on the train.

2009-02-13T22:07:00.012Z

Here is a promise to write soon.

I promise, I promise.(The pictures are from December. I hurriedly rushed into London one morning to visit Ladurée.)Whilst I am here, I may as well write a little.My world hasn't truly changed much at all. Up is still up, down is still down. A book is still a book, a bear is still a bear.Homework is still the ever rising Everest that it always was. And I'm still here, still desperately trying to scale it as best I can. But from where I'm standing, the snow just never stops.I am making a Time Capsule though, just for me. One to bury in the woods.I talked to Pru about it today. She said that Time Capsules are all about the letting go and I had never seen it so before. We made one in primary school as a class, containing a small item belonging to each pupil and it was to encompass 'How We Would Like To Be Remembered'. The terrible part is, I don't. I don't remember my item at all. Perhaps what Pru said is true. It was for the forgetting. Not for the remembering.

2009-02-11T20:02:00.000Z

Slow Club - It Doesn't Have To Be Beautiful

2009-02-01T07:16:00.009Z

"Small rooms.. always pleased to be in small rooms. What a sad idea palaces are."

2008-11-17T21:49:00.014Z

Words from the diary of my favourite diary keeper, J.M.Barrie.
And my favourite writer and my favourite dreamer and my favourite everything.
He was true. The truest of the true. If True were a land, he would rule it as King.
(Only, I would pick Papa to be King first.
And then J.M.Barrie.
And then Stephen Fry.)

Lately, I am forever reading this paragraph and all his writings about the War. On Thursday evening there were lots of soldiers on my train home from London.
When there are soldiers riding with you on your train, you feel extremely small.
It made me wish I were brave.

Bravery isn't something I can hold inside myself very well.
Sometimes I want to be a Lyra and I want it and want it, incredibly badly.

But you can't be brave just from wanting.

It's an impossibility. Like snow in July.

2008-11-10T02:56:00.005Z

'Your Personal Moon'
(To see more please visit here and here)
I'm afraid I'm really not very sure who these belong to but they're incredibly beautiful.

2008-11-10T01:05:00.000Z

'O Captain, My Captain.'
Makes me cry oceans.

2008-11-09T03:55:00.007Z

I can't sleep.

Tomorrow I am going to the Library and hopefully my head-cold will have gone because I'm finding breathing a little hard.
I have my homework to do still. A mountain.
"To draw and draw and draw and draw, forever".
Also, tomorrow is Sunday and Sunday means apple strudels.

2008-11-08T15:31:00.007Z

My drawing in Lula Magazine (Issue 7).

I need courage today. Terribly. If you could parcel it up in brown paper and send it my way, that would be wonderful.
I miss Kitty, as always. But, I think I am noticing that perhaps it isn't Kitty I am missing. It is the Kitty that was, not the Kitty that is.

There is nothing that can be done, nothing.

Unless we build that time-machine.

Unless we spend our December snowed in with steel and sparks and soldering irons and Timothy breathing on the windows. (Because he came back, he always comes back.)

Unless we build that time-machine, there is no Kitty. There is no saving Anne Frank.