Wild is adventure, it’s ravaging life for all its glorious elixirs that set your mouth on fire and keep your eyes wide and searching in the dark of night.
Wild is bold, Wild is fierce. Wild is in the ferocity of every lived moment when it leaves the present to stitch your past together in a heap of memory and sighs.
Wild is the jungle, dense and invigorating; a paralyzing route of beautiful confusion, perched on the crumbling bark of tall trees and in the wet, dark soil that breaks loose at your feet.
Wild is all creation. It’s everything that ever came together to make you tilt back your head to the cavernous, blue sky and sigh and scream, ‘Ahhhh!’
Wild is history, inking the veins of the lived past and creating the hide of life. Wild is the beaten leather of a journal, buttery and brown and bursting with the words that string together the thought that brings back the moment that served selflessly to hitch your breath in your throat.
Wild comes from your loins, seated in the burning, soft skin of your upper thighs. Wild is in your touch and his. Wild is in theirs and hers.
Wild is the manifestation of pleasure, sought and sold to the highest emotional bidder.
Wild is laughter. Unabashed and raucous. Spurred on by secrets exchanged. Whispering like brazen winds.
Wild is the one that got away. The lady you pray to with your hands between your thighs. Wild is religion, vibrant, muddied and wrong. Wild is worship. The sun, the moon, the rain.
Wild is to run barefoot and boundless. The cascading of the senses, in mellifluous order, a meticulous display of unrelenting adventure. Transcending time or spaceless confinement. The new bohemian empress. Aware of royalty ancienne. Unbeknownst to tommorrowlessness. A restless disposition.
I went to Wild so I could evoke deliberately, to live deep and breathe boundlessly over the mountains that composed my Wild imagination. I went to Wild to give roots to my adjectives that painted nothing but the stark white of my computer screen in the later hours of some otherwise innocuous evening.
Alena Mealy is an INFJ, World-traveler, Problem avoider, makeup-lover, fashion obsessor, writer, casual photographer, and current pop-star within the confines of her apartment. Constantly in the pursuit of change.
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LA Noir is a giant lacey black umbrella for all of our artistic dreams and goals. Lily Zwang and Sarah Hendricks are makeup mavericks with the ability to transform anyone into a mystical creature beyond the imagination. Everything from steam punk, to moon goddesses, to morbidity to unicorns.... a glorious hybrid of dark mystique and pastel wonderment.
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