It feels like a punch in the stomach. The country I so proudly said I fitted right from the bat, where I changed and evolved so so much, where my hopes and dreams lay (or laid?), a country I was so ready to call home, is kicking me out.

I know it’s not black and white, but that’s how it feels. I’m still numb thinking about it. And the part that bothers and saddens me most is that hate, racism and xenophobia were the winning vote.

Are we really moving backwards? Are the fences going up to keep people from “their country”? The island superiority was ever present, but seeing the lengths they’re willing to go for something completely unknown…

Bournemouth, a small little town by the sea, was such an welcoming place and stage for such amazing stories.

London… there was a time I tried to find any excuse to go to London. I love the chaos, the people, such different cultures converge… And now some people are trying to destroy that…

Since the future is a complete unknown and the repercussions of the referendum are anyone’s guess (with hints from everyone), I’m just truly glad I was able to enjoy my year in a country that embraced diversity.



Fashion in black

New York Times
If I grew up admiring Henri Cartier Bresson’s breathtaking pictures and developed my love for photojournalism and journalism because of him, Bill Cunningham was the master when it came to street style and the world is now a little less colorful. 

I’m still digesting (very badly, if I may add…) the referendum and it’s result, debating my future and weighing what this represents… For me, for the people I know, the country and the world…