dress: free people
boots: minnetonka moccasins
on friday I went to the gun range with my boyfriend and his dad. the range is high up in the mountains, on the ridge between santa cruz and san jose.
shooting a gun is kind of amazing. on one hand it's terrifying - one slip-up and someone could be killed or seriously injured. it's also exhilarating, and it's easy to close your eyes and imagine yourself as a gunslinger in the old west, fighting native americans and defending your territory. is that offensive? sorry. here, I wore some native american boots to make up for it:
minnetonka moccasins are made in minnesota, which is not native american territory. I'm pretty sure these are not the real deal.
the best part of the gun range was the fact that the ground is covered in all these ancient bullets. they're like footprints of people who have come and gone. I grabbed a handful of them and I'm going to try to make a necklace.
the best part of the day was when sven's dad was talking to his friend in swedish and I understood something they said. I know a maximum of ten words, so this was very exciting. what he said was "en liten häst," which means "a little horse." don't ask me why they were talking about little horses, or why that phrase comprises 30% of my swedish vocabulary.
en häst: a horse
en liten häst: a little horse
en dalahäst: a dalahäst
sorry for the crap quality, some day I will stop procrastinating and hook up my scanner.