Sun-drenched memories.

Sure, I might complain a lot about the summer heat, but seeing these photos, I'm ready to take it all back. I can't even being to explain how much I miss it! I miss the long days, the sensationally beautiful light, my summer wardrobe; I miss the green, the flowers, the bare legs. Hell, I even miss the bugs! (Nope, that was a lie.)

It's no wonder I can't take any pretty outfit photos anymore - I never get dressed in anything but sweatpants except when I go somewhere for the day, and when I come back, it's already pitch black outside. Not to mention that winter is starting to creep up on us, and the heavy coats and layers of thick woollen tights don't seem to translate that well onto photos. It's hard to imagine that I actually posted new outfits every day for months!

And also... I can't help thinking that I was happier back then. I know, intellectually, that things weren't better. But I don't think I was this sad, this low. Maybe I'm just fooling myself, I can't tell. All I know is that I would love to close my eyes, mutter a spell under my breath and be back in one of those sun-drenched photographs. Mosquito bites and all.

Tiny, round and delicious.

I don't like to cook. Sure, I do it, and the food always (ok, usually) turn out good - but I don't enjoy it. It's sort of a vicious cycle; because I don't like doing it I can never bring myself to until I'm so hungry I can barely stand up, and then how could it be pleasurable? I wobble at the stove, trying to make the ingredients cook faaaaster by giving them the evil eye, and when it's finally done I wolf it down, barely tasting it.

Except when it comes to pancakes. I love making - and eating - pancakes, always have - especially these small Swedish ones called "plättar". You eat them with jam and a glass of milk and they're delicious. Luckily, my boyfriend loves them too, so he doesn't mind that they're pretty much all I cook! I guess they're techincally more of a dessert, since they're not exactly full of healthy nutrition and protein, but it's my favorite thing to have for lunch.

Do you guys like to cook, or do you have one dish that you consider your "specialty" and that you could eat at least once a week for the rest of your life? (Or maybe that's just me!)

About that girl in my photos.

Something about this photo reminded me of Anna Karina, the most beautiful woman in the entire world. I know it sounds terrible to say that about a photo of myself, but in my defense, it doesn't really look like it's me in the picture!

I generally feel strangely detached from my "photo self". I can scrutinize a self portrait and find it pretty, beautiful and sometimes even sexy (weird, I know) - it just has very little to do with me. I don't know if it's my years of modeling that has created this detachment, all I know is that I see my photos as images created by me, featuring me, and yet I'm not the one being portrayed. Not really. The woman I see when I look in the mirror, that pale person with tired eyes, that's Annika. She's me. The one in the photos... She's someone I dress up and play with, like I doll whose face I paint to look a certain way and ask to express a specific emotion. I don't identify with her.

And that's why I can say "she reminds me of Anna Karina in this photo!", and still not walk around thinking "hey, I'm all that, I look a bit like the most beautiful woman in the world in a picture". But then again - if I did think that, I probably wouldn't tell you. :)

Am I making any sense at all right now? I'm not, am I? Okay, I'd better stop, then. I'm sort of freaking myself out.

The real deal.

London Moments.

Brick Lane by night.

Pheeew... And here I thought I was going to get shot at any moment!

Obviously I sat at the very back of the double-decker bus. That's what all the cool kids do, right? Right?

You can't go to England without having a proper English breakfast. You just can't.

Accompanied by some strong English breakfast tea, that is. 

A vast majority of the photos I have of Zoey from our days together look like this. Why someone as astoundingly beautiful would ever want to hide her face is simply beyond me. Haha, I just realized it looks like she's in total despair! I promise, she was just being shy. I didn't hit her or insult her or anything. I'm a nice girl! No, really!

We went to the City Farm and made friends with a... duck? Goose? Ah, this is terrible - I live in the country, for crying out loud! I ought to know these things!

 Pretty goat with impressive beard.

BUNNY!!!

OK, honestly, I don't know how much this goose (?) liked us. Something tells me that is not a look of utter adoration.

But this sweetheart! She did like us! She kept following us arround, wanting to cuddle.

She even liked the way Zoey's duffle coat tasted.

Put me in a place where there are animals and I'll be this happy.

Zoey dressed especially to match her new best buddy, Vic the Chick. They had obviously called eachother that morning and decided what to wear. Vic the Chick was like, "I think I'm going for those mustard yellow orange-ish feathers", and Zoey was all like, "again?! Alrighty then, the duffle coat it is. Again."

Jazz hands!

This fluffy darling somehow reminded me of one of my cats.

I had the tastiest sea food pasta ever for dinner! Or it could simply have been that I was famished, and that the company was so spectacular.

The spectacular company in question, a.k.a. miss Disco Pony herself, apparently had some kind of chicken.

Meeeow! My spotty kitty from Avanna followed me all over London, keeping an eye on my stuff, hissing at anyone who came too close.