Category Archives: knit

backdoor warrior

monday got us closer to summer. my dear friend came to enjoy (with me) sweet weathers on the backdoor balcony.

she wanted to wear one of the piece i made for the summer collection. we both have totally different aesthetic ideas, but i do enjoy how she incorporated it to her look.

so here for you, a little preview

it was just so hard (to yell) through their muted but flamboyant chorus

and i was only on the other side of the street, scratching my blood for a fix

clock goes tic. tic. never all the way to the end

i’d fill my lungs with stardust to live again those nights



gentlemen’ choice

breezy bamboo headband (20$)

steal me a dream with running fingers and wasted cream

the last mile

yes, yes, soon you’ll see it. the summer collection. just need to finish…

finally, a logo! so glad and excited. it was made by my friend mass

down by the grocery store, where i just came from

green boys with red flesh, that’ll offer you fruits for a tear

apple of sins like a snake sliding down my chest

just a lump, just a lamp. will remain sticky side up

beat me/em

blurry me by mama as i worked a bit on the collection at her place

i’ve dreamed of you again in sticky countries (foreign)

and lazy peasants with dirty hands offered me rancid meat

behind eyelids, cream my bones some more

artwork above by the amazing Mika Jones


just a teaser, 7 pieces into summer, more to comer

there are things, things that only i see

they’re out to get me.

i saw myself in her as she limped away

and a mess of my sight…

more more more

sale still going on, some pieces gone. some new on.

lower prices. help me make room for the summer collection B-)

balaclava 50$

buffalo 66 100$


early hombre 60$

ambid-x 65$

ash and rust 120$

melting zig-zag 40$

sea talk


calling up to me

like summer to drawn in

natural destruction

size 34 (19mm) needles my mama brought me back from the states. bamboo. other sheers to make you dream.

yes, this is all for the summer collection.

little girls in the middle of the black forest

no ridding hood

just butter on their fingers

contemplate the hollow tree, inside of them. inside of me


life sliding through their digits, through their soul, through their pain

no compas. what’s a gps?

full moon doesn’t move.

little girls lost