Every person, at least once in life, stumbles up on chapter called " The Waiting".
Waiting for things to move, waiting for them to stop, waiting in line, waiting for A true love, waiting for a better job, for a raise, for a fresh bread.
Waiting in a bank, for a hairdresser, mechanic, dentist, postman.
Waiting by the clock right on time while your companion is late. Waiting for the next bus because you're late. Because the whole frickin world is late.
Waiting for the rain to fall, waiting for it to stop, waiting for winter to pass by, waiting for it to come back giving you opportunity for a bright new start.
Waiting for something to happen, for someone to happen, maybe even at the same time and pull you out from a groove. Waiting for you to gather enough courage to pull yourself out.
Life filled with little waitings. Exhaustive waitings.
I don't know anyone who's enjoying that feeling of impatience and uncertainty, and who doesn't feel relieved when the waiting finally pays off.
But like everything else in life, waiting is temporarily. Soon it gets pushed into a corner, with its head down, cursing the time arrow by which it earned such an end. And even though he is aware of this passing, a man usually raising contempt for waiting before that. Because when you wait for something, a minute can be easily converted to a year. And if you wait for a bummer, minutes will be magically turn into seconds.
Soon the man loses track of time and concentrate only on waiting. Or its end. And when it comes and finds a man exhausted and crazy of waiting, it often becomes even sweeter.
WHAT I WORE
pants: vintage / loafers: vintage / blouse: vintage/
blazer: vintage/ scarf: thrifted/ brooch: gift from mum