I know she has a name but to me she will always be babydoll. Her eyes are grey and blue and green and they dance with colors like the London sky that rains high above. Maybe she was his muse. Maybe that’s why it was all so easy albeit the sun was nowhere in his dreams. They walked for hours. These hours that were once shaped like crushed hourglasses are now flapping away with broken wings, away from me, away from her memory, away from the cobble stone alley of this gloomy sunny city. It was years ago, but I can still smell the perfect plastic pink bubble that she so liked to pop. Pop. Babydoll has gone.
Text: Adele Jancovici @adelejancovici adelejancovici.com
Photographs: Abel Llavall Ubach @abelcezar_ abelcezar.com
Model: Summer @summerlilyreed