It pierces.
The pain
The guilt
the pressure.

Like the throbbing
of my head.

The words.

The gentle breeze does care for me,
it really does. 
But ever so fragile as the smallest leaf
i fall 
defeated
to the words
the words of pain
its pain
not mine
but mine

that subtle movement
is a hurricane
that leaf
its cause

it makes no sense
nothing does
but both the gentle breeze
and the leaf
know.

its mine. 
like the throbbing in my head.
 

So this is the handbag I was talking about. I took me around 30 hours to make it and I am so happy I finally finished! I made this with some old jeans, newspaper (on the inside), some scrap pieces of cloth and a strap from another bag. The idea is completely mine, and I practically improvised the whole thing, not knowing much about any particular techniques to use. In fact, my sewing machine does not work very well (or perhaps I just don't know how to use it) so I made the whole thing by hand. Totally handmade! Yes. My fingers do hurt. Well hopefully this was worth the effort and you like it, and more importantly (as I can already guarantee that I like it) that it will be of use and will not fall into pieces on the first day. It seems pretty sturdy, so hopefully my expectations are correct! If you want to read about the process of making it to perhaps inspire you to make one yourself, click 'read more'. 

I have started the complicated process of making myself a handbag out of some of my old jeans, newspaper, and other pieces of cloth - but I am far from finishing it. 
My grandmother's birthday was coming up so I decided to interupt the process to make a much smaller item out of the same materials and technique as a gift for her.
So use your imagination to imagine how my handbag will look like!! I have never tried anything quite so complicated and my sewing machine does not work, so it will definetely take a lot of time!
I hope you like the little pouch I made for my grandmother and the instructions will come soon when I finish it! 
Click read more to see the pictures! 

This is a poem i got inspired by looking at a chair. To see the poem Click read more.

This is a narrative I wrote last year for my English class. Hope you like it! - Yasmin

Days, months, years had passed since it happened. Yet I still live in that very moment, or rather that, this moment, lives on in me, with me, off me. I would be mendacious if I said I had forgotten or if it had forgotten me. How could it, how could I, after all that we've been through. My safe, my saviour, my equal, yet it is the source of so, so much pain and anguish.