I would really like to go to the beach. That is a shocking statement coming from me. I am a pale, pale creature and I basically shun the beach. If I swim, I like to swim at a lake. Jumping off a dock floating in the water. In the evening when my skin won't get burnt. Sand? Eh. Salt water? Blech. The only salt water that entrances me is salt water surrounding one of those little huts on stilts. I'd love to stay in one of those someday. Or swim in a lagoon. Like in Lost. You know. Kate dives under water to try to get the metal suitcase. Found some corpses. Sawyer snatches the suitcase from her. So on and so forth. I'd love to do a few laps in a lagoon. Preferably one without corpses but with Sawyer. The character, not the actor who plays him.

Ramble. The point - I'm normally not a beachy sort of girl, but lately I've been feeling like more of one. These pictures reflect that recent tendency towards beach bum wannabe status.

I will not be at a beach this weekend. Mostly because it's not warm enough (definitely not warm enough for an evening swim), but also because my sister is graduating from college this weekend so I'll be off attending graduation-ish festivities. Graduation ceremonies are the worst (unless you have a really awesome speaker, I suppose). Dullsville. I wanted to leave my own 5 minutes into it. Going out to eat after will be the high point.

Anyway. BEACH TIME. In my imagination.... and this blog post.
signs and wonders.
Art & Vintage.
Lulu Wolf.
via sue-tarr.
Levi Macdonald.
Borislav Bartok.
Fernando Nogari.
Louis de Saeger.
Jacob Stead.
Jena Ardell.
signs and wonders.
Terhi Ekebom.
my darling dinosaur.
my darling dinosaur.
Sarita Lolita.
signs and wonders.
Aviva Rowley.
free bliss.
Edward Cucuel.
George Eastman House.