Mechanical complexites of the Cornetti Scented Engine.

Good morning squires.

So whilst some form of ill seasoned attempt at Florentine cuisine sizzles in the strove behind me, I thought it be rather apt, to pull out of life's hypothetical hard shoulder and back onto the 16 abreast social-network highway.

And whilst no soul saving, road side assistance came to my rescue; a month of  'me time' and a handful of Worthers Originals, is seemigly enough to doctor your inner grinding, gear box, back to its usual smooth-like-chocolate self. 

But the damn truth is, I never 'actually' dialed the darn Automo-soul Association at all. ("Cue orchestral Tut-Tut"). In facto, silly old me, drove approximately 16,000 miles, in a soft top poached of its top, supporting an exhaust that's playing homage to the Great Fire of Rome. Such transportaitonal attributes generally don't transcend into a Conde Nast speacial on Ultimate Road Trips. In fact the billowing black trail of destruction you leave in your trail, is more likely to see your sorry ass face on page 43 of the Daily Star, now starring in a Wicker-Man prequel; as your offend-ies and new born enemies, clad of their ceremonial robes, prance around a roaring inferno of you.

You follow me?..

In layman's terms, I suck.

But in less breaky down self-esteem car news, I was rather lucky to spend some of this Settembre zooming around the heavenly Tuscan countryside in this little Fiat number...

 

Yes, given my global latitude and oscillating state of mind, it would of been a wee witless, not to take advantage of the weeks office wearbouts and extend my stay on the beautiful boot shaped peninsula.

4 Days, 2 Lovebirds, 1 Vineyard, 24 Scoops of Gelato, some guy called David and 1 Leaning tower...has proven its self to be a highly recommended, chemical blend of feel good components. And thus; a slightly more socially exceptable alternative, to its bargain bucket competitor, Happy Gas.

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From one European haven to another... Heres some of the delectably exotic work, of  German photographer Simon Bolz; taken on location in blissful Ibiza, earlier this summer.

WithLove Raphaella McNamara x

Intruders.

Well it has to be said, these past few days, would make wonderful educational software in 'Futility for Dummies'. It seems the whole damn world and his time wasting, backward thinking dog, has summoned themselves upon my inbox and ear holes.  

I kinda feel like Mr. "Free Hugs" guy, on your average animalistic Saturday upon the high street. 

Except.... some freeloading parasite, sharpie-d my heart adorned, free romantic gesture offering; leaving me the sour-faced looser, waving a once-was 'Monster Munch' box that now proclaims 

"Free time to be wasted". 

My Tipp-Ex unequivocally nowhere in sight.

Maybe, I’m a little more irritable than normal?

But maybe, my usually sanctified blind fold, slackened this week just slightly. 

Prevailing, a World and the self-centred habitants it withholds, that I usually liked to hide in a small box behind the boiler.

Eurgh.

Anyhow.... In consideration of the recent meddlesome events, at the WithLove Towers, I found this little set of gritty pixels, to be rather apt. I think this first image, of any, would be the closest illustration, of my present spiritual state. 

These six moody moments, where taken on a bitingly chilly winter’s day, in one of the many glamorous localities, I tend to find my rolling around in. Shot by renowned Irish photographer, 

Donal Moloney for his 2013 Intruders exhibition.

 

*Despite the current chin dragging aura this post may have broadcasted. 

I think these images are fucking awesome. :)

WithLove and tired eyes Raphaella x