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lexi (sometimes alexis), I am a photo maker in Boston

business inquiries
alexismire@gmail.com

curious cats

My weekly playlist, this was created by digging through my favorites on spotify and on pandora. It is basically 57 minutes of stuff I like.

Notes

mackenziebaker:

Hank and Me

An ongoing daily documentation of my sweet hound and I as he goes through heart worm treatments and I try to be there for him.

(by mac baker)

I love the portrait at the bottom in the center. Love you both so much, as well. 

Notes
my rings

Since last summer in Italy I have religiously worn rings, everyday, always. They have served as small reminders of certain people and places. There is something so comforting about the consistency of such things, about carrying valued memories everywhere I go, always just a glance away.

My current rings are all fairly new, and I am so happy with all of them. When some of these came along I retired old rings, ones that have been worn down from daily wear or no longer feel like they belong. I thought I would explain each of them, where they are from and in some cases, what they mean to me.

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Notes
Notes
I wrote what I wrote last night after a long conversation with my aunt about my life and future. It feels so incredible to write again, and to share small portions of my life, especially things I have been keeping tucked away for the last seven months.
It’s just so nice to have something good to write about.

I wrote what I wrote last night after a long conversation with my aunt about my life and future. It feels so incredible to write again, and to share small portions of my life, especially things I have been keeping tucked away for the last seven months.

It’s just so nice to have something good to write about.

Notes
march

in january

I was a cloud of raging independence, of battered ego, and renewed self esteem, of reasons, of overwhelming realizations

and I fell into February, like a colt with brand new limbs, staggering but somehow standing. I fell into my artwork, I fell into my friendships and I fell out of love

By March I had my chin up, I had direction, I had a solution to the gaping hole that was left swelling in my immediate future. Still seething in my raging self reliance, alone but not lonely, I had myself, I thought that was enough.
But the tail end of March swept me off of my trembling newborn limbs. Only when you swear to yourself that you’re a closed door, do you find that you are being pried open. Or rather coaxed open, with gentle words and a gentle heart and a tenderness that had never spread through the cracks between my heart and head before

It’s just that, for a long time (too long really) I was in a tempest, and I thought love was a storm that raged on and on because it was meant to, that it was always hard, but somehow worth the ache. So I remained there, weathered, and soaking wet, and eroded.

But March lit a flame in my water logged soul and I floated so softly into the arms of April that every rumble of thunder from December wasn’t a threat, but a reminder of progress, of possibility.

and I haven’t fully broken in my new limbs,

and I know that it takes a little while to rebuild after a storm

but now, more than ever, I am capable of growth. And as I fall into the coming months, I am figuring out more and more what I want, and need, and deserve.

Here’s to August.

Notes
S