Sensory reality

Something is coming but nothing is going to change neither my love nor my submissiveness to your sensuous touch. I dare you to tell me what’s on your mind and not to escape behind triviality. There are uncountable promises for us to stick together and only few excuses not to follow desire, but you still haven’t chosen me and it makes me suffer priceless.

When is day I wait for night to come and bring me into honeyed dreams about your presence; at nights I am longing for days to turn my dreams into the reality. But dreams are my unconscious eager for you to always be somewhere around. Close enough to kiss you and far enough not to bother you.

Sweet dreams.

Agnes. 

We have time

Julia Prohorenkova photography 

I woke up in the morning and the bitter reflection from the dream took my thoughts million miles away from the glory of the morning peacefulness. It seems you never appear light-hearted rather unsatisfied and sad. And I wonder what’s really happening on your mind when you beam and say I am doing fine, babe. And if it’s only an imagination I sadly have fallen for it. Dear, I care what’s bothering your eternally engaged awareness. Sometimes I cogitate we communicate through a white sky, a cold wind, and a crowded tram. I look up and there is a hope, I feel the warm imperceptible touch, your pure identity and all together – you are the one and nothing has to be changed.

Oh am fainthearted and am afraid, but I can’t express out loud how significant and beautiful your existence is to me.  

Agnes. 

I feel is going to be more difficult than ever. Eternal fight for the precious time, for the understanding what life is really is about and where to give your adoration not to get enormously disappointed - not everyone waits for you to be around and not everyone has the same dear feeling – to be decent means to live harmony within your body and mind equally.

I have this fight every day and every hour of my life and I fall and I fall…although sometimes seems nothing more can go wrong, it can! I learn to appreciate chance to try and retry and I have belief I will till the last breath.

I want to shout at the top of my voice.

…

Agnes. 

Alas.

Julia Prohorenkova photography 

Music has its singular sensitivity; it unites and bonds our inner senses of life and present emotions. Slightly it builds the heritage of ours and gently plays the melody subsequently.

Lately I have been thinking about you more than ever. We are forced to be in each other’s company, you see me in a different light...oh I wish we could overcome our differences and judgments. I hate to repress my affection. You have the honesty, sensibility and wisdom I ardently admire. I wish you were aloof Moran who makes me mad. But you make me smile instead.

All day long I have been sitting wrapped my arms around my knees within your bitter - sweet melody on my mind. Trust, care, esteem should be used synonymously. You embrace foundation of love. And I have abundance of the heart … yearning for the charming touch free from the superfluous pride… And when I think about you I just can’t find another word than…oh boy.

Agnes. 

You can’t take your eyes off her and glory of the beauty comes right through. What’s behind the refined features and pompous clothing?

I just guess that we never know what really talks through a bijouterie, an attire, high – heels and a picture-perfect make – up. It’s life of the simple girl who dares to inspire with the artwork of her body.

Every one of us has a gift, trivial? INDEED!  But despite to that I just wish you to appreciate the gift of yours and keep the head up.

Or maybe I am talking to myself?

I want to believe that with the gorgeousness from the inside we can change what’s happening outside.  A perfect photo-shoot, a well – written article, a colorful painting, a spruce cabbage -patch, an effortlessly built machine. And the hot beverage in the evening makes us human, makes us to flock together.

And the morning comes with a fresh energy, creation and prompting vibes. If I know that there are people who care I care as well. If there are streets to walk on, parks for the chat and a slice of cake which to share. It’s definitely not pointless to try! 

Agnes.

Happens to be.

I write because I feel and when I feel then I am close to you. Closer when I am standing next to you, closer when I hug you or listen to you... When I write it’s more and more is what I need.

I write because it’s breathing and without and an air I am a fish imprisoned in the net on the land. I have you and it sets me free…I have someone to write about.

Thank you.

Agnes. 

it's not me, it's you.

There is a person who hands wisdom. He is unpretentious and charming. He speaks to me rarely but when he does…I wish it never ends. He gives me persuasion of true loyalty and belief of truly harmonious relation between two people.

I sense romantic vibes and unattainable longing. Boomerang of exquisiteness, concord, faithfulness and esteem.

Poor girl with high standards. I wish…oh, just for a small kiss. 

Agnes. 

Empirical

I want to sink in your uncertainty and to stretch my body for a breath of understanding. I feel like a cat on a hot tin roof when you look at me with the craving in your eyes.  What to say when body speaks louder and I have to bite my lip so hard; an iron flavor crams my mouth. I rather stay alone than betray my emotional state; it’s too charming to say I love you when thousands of responsibilities come along.

I want to serve you a hot latte with a slice of cake, I want to take your hand and give a hug when you are down, I want to listen what’s on your mind, but I am scared of you…I  am just scared I am not good enough.

Agnes. 

My imagination has very little to work upon.

What’s on my mind doesn’t bother my heart. Lovely peace has embraced my body and I feel blissful.

Sometimes I talk to you through my dreams and then I wake up with a clear conscience. Sometimes I day dream, but it’s never gloomy, because you are lightsome and you are sweet…and you are precious to me.

I don’t care if you do more than others, I don’t care about the money or cars, about the girls you have had, I don’t care about anything but your happiness. 

I just want you to be happy.

Agnes. 

There is an instant hope going on.

There is playing a melody of rising sun and a captivating inner sense of the deepest wish for a loving hug in my solitary heart.

Alas, I wish for a small kiss!

Light touch of your lips on my forehead, tip of the nose, lips, shoulders…no need for any words, no need for an explanation, we are fearless and we follow our hearts. Without promises and expectations jumping into passion and you take me away as swift as a billowing river.  

Agnes. 

Waitin on You

Styling and Hair by Julia Prohorenkova 
Make up by Linda Steinerte 
Model Annija Šreitmane
Texts by Agnese Slišāne
Design: murMur by Kristīne Zakalovska and DDSLL Girls by Alise Ābele Dekslinga

Visually vigorous and imposing image created in one’s mind. She is gorgeously adorned bare life through the religious hope for almighty God and eternal Eden. Gloomy thoughts and a heavy glance sends evident vibe – there is unrevealed secret behind one’s flesh and blood. Colours delude into flourish hope for seeing the same after death, but it baffles the description. What’s ahead nothing?

Under the dead stain there is always a magnificent beauty … and it plays with the edge around the stature of existence. Touch shrouded in a dark mystery performs lightly along the shoulder and its modest look doesn’t say anything about the sin.

How can she take away something so tinted in such a beautiful way? Life full of colours – from glorious light till deathly dark it composes instantly, shuffles and vanishes…boom. And left is only … just the loveliness of the memory.

Pure gorgeousness lures away the precariousness and abducts it with a veil of acquitted prettiness. She has a stony stare and a heart as cold as a dead language. Lifeless scream for righteous decree captivates her rack of bones.
Eyelids slightly cuddle view and daydreams for another chance. Nothing lasts forever even if happens to be the best…not a touch, not a kiss…not a thought.

Her stature has changed and the eyes look through the madness. It runs my mind as playful as an enchanting touch, makes me flinch from the painful satisfaction. What’s behind the mystery of going off in smoke?

She is full of sweetness but the ice from her body melts like a torrid zone of danger. The fervent desire leads to collapse, syrupy belief glues my heart. And eventually She is everything I want.

Don’t you dare to stay so pure and humble when human beings decorate you and the religious cries for the wealthy show, no one knows you, but everybody expects you to be seductive. 

Bijouterie, bunch of flowers, sweets and gorgeousness…can’t bribe you, you have it all. 

Oh…Femme fatale!

Agnes.

play.

We stand apart but feel the same, a passion – play of striking eye touch and you make me wary... under your arm I texture life stunning and mysterious.

Your indefinable charm pulls the wool over my eyes and I humbly stay still.

Words vanish beneath our expectations and I am incarcerated in a circuit.

There is no a persistent physical link between us but a perpetual motion which makes my desire very rapid from admiration…to adoring contradictory love.   

Tousle my hair and crash resistance. I am here and I am longing for the fight.

Agnes. 

Indian summer.

Foolish heart of mine despairingly counting the days till I see you again and a mild longing for your occurrence strangle the will to keep calm. 

Childlike I vision to get through the time and space, to embrace everything around you and for a second ...oh, just for a slight flash to be the femme fatale holding your imperceptible arm.

My credulity keeps me alive. 

J.Prohorenkova

Agnes.

Bittersweet tune.

Even you smile has become prudent.

You can’t stand still; I have lost you in the movement. I promised to myself when I catch you I am going to reveal my soul. Tell my story and beg for an unconditional understanding.

And then I see you coming, smiling, beaming…I drop my eyes and body becomes leafless tree. Where is the courage which was just within me?

And when you leave, I watch you walking through my innermost remorse. I know you walk towards love and I am not the love, I am just a girl who wants to be loved. 

Agnes.

I don't know why I go the way down by the riverside.

It’s rain being loud outside, indelicate stranger who makes the stillness become intimate with its cold metal melody against the windowsill.

He knows I am going to forgive every feeling sowed by him. 

Inexplicable sorrow, because he doesn’t play his tune just for me, mysterious desire to slake my thirst for him never being enough, embracing serenity.

He fills my cup with a hot chocolate and puts the rug around my shoulders. 

The smell of never – fading trust ruffles ocean of longing. 

He switches off the TV channel and makes me listen. 

He melts my prejudice with the charm and doesn’t ask for the answers. 

Most importantly he doesn’t make me lie.

…

His presence is so real, so royal and so simple that I forget…I am not the only one he is on stage for…

Agnes.  

Sleepless nights with hearty laughter.

Once upon a time …oh, well. Every day of my life I am dealing with the same sort of problems, what to do, what to eat, what to wear etc. and none of it doesn’t make any great changes...

And then…after struggling and trying, retrying…I zip my thoughts together, put them on the plate and play as with an unserviceable meal.

Painfully the plate is this blog and the meal - that’s me, my friend. 

Agnes. 

Heart tickled by dreams.

Your face is seamed with past sorrows, but body glows with cancerous power. The air between our statures is laden.

If there was a wall which parts us, I would break it. But when there is nothing but us, there is nothing but a fumbling setback directed by the pride. 

Oh, poor soul yearning for a justification. A contaminated mind and a bitter ferment under the starry sky, who is going to catch us red – handed?  

I just wish … for a small kiss. 

agnes. 

Love invasion

There is no time for regret, what’s done, cannot be undone, but at least we can keep it from happening again. I’m longing for care, conversations, for innermost feelings, freedom.

I am sentimental and I am despondent. I know.

I used to wrap my arms around my knees and gazed at him intently. I am still doing it.

It’s silent capitulation – I can’t harmonize my internal world. Without you, I can’t.

Adieu!

Agnes. 

Against my wishes.

 „ (...) Above all, I have to maintain my air of confidence. No one must know that my heart and mind are constantly at war with each other. Up till now reason has always won the battle, but will my emotions get the upper hand? Sometimes I fear they will, but more often I actually hope they do. “

/Anne Frank/

andredefreitas.com

An apple, a coffee, a smell of cheesy slice of bread, freshly cut tomato and you leaned against the wall.

Your lips doesn't move, but you ask for the hand when there’s a presence of the stranger, ask for my care, devotion and loveliness when the echo of past shouts louder than the pray for the honesty.

...unknown perfume. unfamiliar poise. 

I am not the one who will leave, but if you stay, stay for good.

Agnes.

Time engagement.

Evanescent thirst for disconnection with reality and triumph over subordinating hunger it’s what overlooks my daily path towards tomorrow.  

Open call for everything what can go wrong. Pretty eye look and capture of the light what brings fetching delight.

We are so moral in seeing bad that everything what’s good collapse under pressure being more bright, more attractive and more permanent than sorrow which always comes somewhere along.

I made us a room.

Simple as me and you being together, sometimes too intense and we want to drop out, sometimes too empty and I want a bit more, sometimes merged in concord, sometimes so far away from others I don’t even know how it’s to be outside. There are no dark colours whenever you enter it, there is TV and there is Chinese food on the table.

We are soul mates and our mouth doesn’t speak.

You used to be a reward for being myself.

Agnes.

Asking out loud – am I losing more than I will ever have?

At the moment I am a citizen of the beautiful studio type apartment in the centre of Amsterdam. Leidseplein is where culture and music comes together through cosy pubs, small restaurants, live music, performances and free spirit.

The place is magical with its huge windows, letting light and warm wind fulfil it, cuddly cat and beautiful Christmas lights twined around book shelf.

I can spend impolitely long hours in a tender rug and messing around in the paradise of the books - art, culture and photography, fashion magazines, movie collection and sweet cookie jar with a teapot just next to it.

Truly romantic bed with transparent veil and butterflies flying above welcome for sweet dreams.

A great deal of hanged dresses along the wall which personifies a soul and passion when night comes alive.

Framed mirrors and girly weakness  for red lipstick.

Line of colourful soldiers, perfect harmony of shoes.

           Vine is in the fridge. It’s my world of reading, watching, observing people on the streets, late nights, dance and tight sleep.

The sweetest world for the girl who still is crazy for the life.

Agnes’.  

Everlasting evanescent.

A Handful of  sweet bitterness from the visit of the most beloved! Family.

I went to the airport on 25^th of May, took my backpack and a lot of courage not to get lost in terribly sophisticated transportation system of Amsterdam.

I prepared myself not to drown in the tears /it’ s very well known fact that being emotional has gone out of fashion/

They arrived safe and looked as good as always, smiles on their faces, a bit of confusion and millions of hugs.

How can I briefly describe these past few days which let me to natural downcast after the plane took its way back to Latvia?

Sunburn, sitting along the channels, lights, museums, long walks, talks, hugs, vine, mattress.

We smoked weed and crashed McDonalds.

We are family and I couldn’ t ask for more.

28^th of May/ late afternoon/ Oud- Zuid train station/ window/ tears ... no one is trendy forever... / goodbye and have a safe trip home!

A Handful of solitude and enormous willing to take the first flight home. But I haven’t finished here, not yet.  

Agnes.

Crazy for honesty

Fantastic, inspirational, pure music…

This week I got blessed by two amazing concerts.

The first one is ‘Laura Polence Project’. I had a chance listen them just nearby my house, Leidsplein – Café Cox. When someone plays from heart it goes through heart. 

Despite to the awfully terrible weather; I took my bike and cycle to Dwaze Zaken… Happiness, pureness, touchingness. 

Humming people – Norway. 

After the concert I went home through the Vondelpark and couldn’t keep tears falling. There is so much beauty, but we struggle and fall.

There are so many opportunities but we see only failures.

Don’t try to make yourself loveable…you already are. being human. making mistakes and living through.

Don’t have hard feelings, not a bit, not at all.

Goodnight.

Agnes’

Crazy love for life

and we are all the same… being close to ‘drop out’ time after time.

being crazy for a single hug time after time...

we need our silent island for being ourselves.

and we need someone to crash it with champagne and laughs, beer and silly movies, vine and long conversations about love.

let’s us stay together. young, naïve and ambitious.  

agnes.

miscalculated.

I am on the move, my dear. 

To take a risk and see more. 

There is no space like : Baltic.

Play. 

There is nothing as friendship! 

When you say hop I am pointing at you and laughing. It's over. We don't say jump we say - keep flying. 

Reflection of culture.

Elita Patmalniece

Does your artwork fits to your background and what’s the real relation between you and culture? How can you make art by the culture you are engaged to?

Agnes. 

people around.

She is from Paris, he from Nice. French students who met in birthday party of friend of no one. Both of them were engaged in relationships at that time and both of them didn’t expect to see each other ever again.

Life put them through five different cities between three countries and eventually they decided to settle down in Amsterdam. 

Four years has gone since they drunk till the sickness, flirted till the laugh and risk to fall in love even though life seemed to part every feeling shared that night.

Do they regret being silly, drunk, out of control and following desire of spontaneity?

After the night they first met she had a flight back to Berlin. He had studies in Munich. They didn’t have mobile numbers, they didn’t exchange more than mystery being attracted by each other eye look. 

He sent her a letter, he sent a book...they met again.

…And you already know the story.

/Maybe it is worth not to let go.Try a little bit, write a line…/

Agnes.

Information is beautiful!

Misled by lovely tunnel vision of the life I struggled to see helicopter view of beautiful surrounding.

There CAN be wishful thinking set if wanted but why do we need it when melancholia lulls to lie on the lap of apathy.

When I was about to reach your attention, you turned around and was gone. And you kept me thinking – is it my fault of being too late or you are the one who keeps moving even by accident there is a slight  chance of happiness in front of your doors?

Do the acceptance of relations is one of those mysterious things which can never be resolved?

You made me wonder if relations are the vision we see or the reflection from the love experienced. Pain, confusion and disappointment. Building expectations and letting them down, struggling with self – confidence and disrespect of other wishes.

I am terrified to be fired by the shots of your gun – loveliness, courteousness and refusal.

It would be nice of you , not to be nice… 

agnes.

Every beautiful  thing makes me realize how pretty faces are overrated.  Light comes with realistic view and over shadows fake appearance of hope.

But what really matters in the end of the day?

Echo of your sweet,sweet sound.

agnes.

mapping wounds.

With every eye look helplessly falling deeper in the loveliness of your existence. Warmness clasps with physical ubiquity when the stature of yours plays within danger zone of mine and cold draught goes through my bones when you have left.

Mind plays you as a movie. Going back and forwards. Touching, singular, breath taking, absurd in its simplicity.

You are the movie but you play me. 

agnes.