I'm watching a lot of films lately.  Which is probably good since I'm doing a film studies course at university.  But yes.  So watching a lot of movies and a lot of old movies at that.  And cinema is often about love.  People in love.  Falling out of love.  And having watched a lot of noir films at home and then seeing The Best Years of Our Lives today I just find myself thinking a lot about what love means and how people express love and the degrees of love and how all words, all concepts are constantly evolving.

I suppose what keeps rubbing me the wrong way in some of these films is how quickly people jump to say they love each other.  Maybe I've just been so over saturated with material I'm just waiting on the profession so it all constantly seems too rushed.  But I dunno.  Even with the compression of time that happens within film, I still feel like a lot of the time I have a different working definition of what love is from these people.  How soon you say it.  How soon you say it and actually mean it.  Or perhaps today's definition of love is very different from what it was in the 40s and 50s.

These pictures are from my first week in the new flat (forever a backlog on marionhoney).  Essentially, Rosianna hadn't moved all of her stuff in yet from her childhood home so we pretty much had no dishes to speak of.  So one afternoon Rosianna and I ventured out together and scoured our local charity shops and I brought home these items.  In total, I don't think I paid more than £5 which was astonishing seeing as I feel like even at the cheapest retail shop that's how much one of these items would cost.  I am a charity shop convert.

Since I've also had another charity shop day with Kayley.  We went to Richmond where they have what felt like a lot more options.  There I got a mirror, candle, and silver tray – all of which have been much loved.