December 26, 2013: Mom, the o.g. of hip.

Essentials -->

Books.
Guitar.
Writing Desk.
Flannel.
Mug.
More books.
The "Kindly don't fuck with me. Do I look like I have time to small talk?" face.
Neatly packed in a square frame.
#putsinstagramtoshame


I reckon dad must've been pretty brave to permeate that steel cold glare of academic determination.
Or just really naïve.
Or just really dashing.
Or both.

Lucky for me, mom had a soft spot for the golden boy from Hawai'i. Even the best of us can get distracted by brazen, bronzed beauty.

Funny how patterns work.

Transient