It was 2 a.m. and June was wide awake. The crashing of waves would coax many back to sleep but this was her favorite time of day. A night owl all her life, she felt most creative long after the sun had gone down. During those wee morning hours, she pulled out her paints, strung her cello bow, walked her dog (an unwanted visitor that never left) and experienced Tulum in a way that many never would. The quiet streets, the closed storefronts and the empty restaurants were her home now and the townsfolk knew her only as ‘the new lady’. She intended to keep it that way. A quiet life, off the grid, was just what she needed.

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Elizabeth drew her energy from time alone, from the crashing waves, from the morning fog and from life in her seaside village. A sleepy little town among the hills where you didn’t lock your doors and left them completely open most days so the salty smell could enter your abode. She’d called the cobblestone streets, the lighthouse landmark and the interesting neighbors home for more than five years but her time there was coming to an end. She packed up her sensible footwear, expansive record collection and sidekick, Milo, for the next adventure ahead. She didn’t know where she’d land but she had a full tank of gas and a lot of optimism.

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living in // the clouds

Camille started her morning like every other, at a local coffee shop. With a weathered leather tote over her shoulder, passport and essentials stowed within, well-worn sneakers on her feet and a clear vision in her head, she hailed a taxi, downed her Americano and never looked back. At the airport, she picked the next flight heading to Europe with an open seat, a window seat thankfully, and cracked open the spine of her favorite book. The sound of which sent a small pang through her heart as it reminded her the impressive personal library she had left behind. She ordered a drink at the watering hold next to her gate, disregarding the early time shown on the digital clock above the bar and took a deep breath. She had ninety minutes to kill, a chocolate bar and one change of clothes in her bag and she was headed to Austria. She was ready.

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faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds
faucethead // living in the clouds

living in // saturated color

Millie was the kind of girl that turned heads. She had striking features, a pink beehive ‘do and a knack for mixing the brightest of brights and the boldest of patterns. She was the kind of girl that wore socks with sandals, white after Labor Day, stripes with polka dots… and it worked. The kind of girl that made every day an occasion worth celebrating and attracted people from all walks of life. The kind of girl you wanted to be around, no matter how different you were.

Most days you could find Millie tucked away in the warehouse district in a building that stood out among the rest with its orange details. From sunrise to sunset, she worked among her ‘treasures’. Treasures that most others considered trash. She frequented the local diner for lunch, gathered friends in her studio in the evening and had a soft spot in her heart with any antique that showed a hint of a colorful past and a coating of modern-day rust, her car included. She liked to tell stories and, for now, her treasures were her story. For now.

Images linked below // View more here

faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color
faucethead // living in saturated color

living in // all natural

Savannah was used to the quiet. Though she had a table set for two, she ate alone, the only accompaniment distant howls and nearby rustling grasses. It had been six months since she loaded her belongings, the most prized of which was her camera and recently traded-for blanket, and started a simpler life. A nurturer since birth, she thrived in nature and cared for the Earth and its creatures with a gentle love. With 100 acres of lowing grass, rolling hills and trickling creeks now to call her own she knew she’d finally found home. Views of star-filled skies, scurrying neighbors, her art supplies nearby and an ever-present good luck charm in her pocket cemented her choice. She embraced the quiet. For the quiet was what she needed.

Image sources linked below // View more here

faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural
faucethead // living in all natural

living in // italy

She was considered a local at the ultimate of tourist attractions. She was pursued by many but kept by none. She had refined style that never aged. She thrived off the history and felt her Italian roots most at night when the streets had cleared. She indulged on the things that mattered and never revealed too much. She was a mystery that could see everything from her bedroom window. She was Sophia and she was impossible to put into words.

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faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
faucethead // living in italy
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