Once upon a time, there was a mysterious garden known to few. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, and nature and art coexisted in perfect harmony. The garden, hidden from the prying eyes of the world, was adorned with a myriad of mosaics that depicted scenes from forgotten tales.

One bright morning, a majestic peacock named Phineas, with iridescent feathers that gleamed like precious jewels, ventured into the garden. As he strutted through the mosaic pathways, he marveled at the intricate designs beneath his feet. The mosaics seemed to come to life with each step he took, as if they held secrets of their own.

Just as Phineas was lost in the mesmerizing beauty of the garden, a powerful rumble echoed through the air. From behind a tangle of ancient vines, a fearsome dragon emerged, its scales glistening with an ethereal light. This was no ordinary dragon, but one with a gentle disposition and a curiosity as great as Phineas.

The peacock and the dragon locked eyes, neither showing fear nor aggression. Instead, they exchanged a silent understanding of the garden’s enigmatic magic. Together, they ventured deeper into the garden, exploring its secrets and uncovering the stories hidden within the mosaics.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow upon the garden, the peacock and the dragon continued their exploration, knowing that this mysterious place held a bond that transcended time and species. In that tranquil garden, where mosaics told tales of forgotten legends, Phineas the peacock and the dragon found an enduring friendship that would forever remain a mystery to the world outside.

Pictures: Shobee El-Helymy
Styling/Model/Edit: Sara Streule
Location: Bruno Weber Park
Dress: Of Grapes and Waves
Headpiece: Pearls & Swine
Choker: Julian Zigerli, Shoes: Melissa

In a surreal garden, where colors defied logic, a girl transformed into a neon leopard with a burst of shimmering light. She emerged from the chaotic, glowing pink bushes that pulsed with a rhythm known only to the mad.

With a wild, primal energy, she began to dance. Her movements were a discordant symphony of chaos and vibrant hues, a performance that seemed to defy the laws of nature. The neon leopard leaped and twirled, her spots shifting and morphing, as if painted by a mad artist’s brush.

The garden itself seemed to respond to her dance, as if the very fabric of reality was unraveling. Flowers bent and twisted, trees contorted and reshaped, and the pink bushes pulsed with a maniacal heartbeat.

There was no audience, no observers, just the neon leopard and her absurd, spontaneous dance. It was a performance for the void, a celebration of the absurdity that lurked in the hidden corners of existence.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the dance ended. The neon leopard returned to her human form, and the garden, exhausted from its moment of chaos, settled back into an eerie calm.

In this garden, where the boundaries of reality and absurdity blurred, the neon leopard’s dance was just another enigmatic spectacle, a fleeting moment of wild, dadaist expression in a world that defied reason and definition.

Skirt, Top: Nixi Killick, Shirt: Zalando
Gloves: Anastasia Bull, Shoes: Thrifted
Jewellery: Tukadu, Bag: Nana Nana
Pictures: Greta Schoop, Edit: Sara Streule

In the eastern embrace of Switzerland lay a quaint town cradled by rolling hills and the Swiss Alps. The girl, raised in the simplicity here, felt the call of distant horizons. Leaving behind her rural haven, she embraced the world’s cities, their cultures, and their adventures.

Years rolled on, and the city lights dazzled her eyes, but a piece of her soul remained tethered to the green green meadows. Amidst urban craziness, she carried tranquillity in her heart. Once upon a time, she visited some fields and thought about her roots.

Beneath the sun’s embrace, the girl ran through the meadow, the wind a gentle caress on her skin. Amid nature’s symphony, she rekindled the forgotten melody of her youth. Her worries dissolved, replaced by a profound serenity.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the landscape gold, the girl paused, gazing at the hills. And so, her spirit renewed. The girl left the field that day. No longer bound by the city’s hurried pace, she carried the wisdom of her origins—the memory of a meadow where the wind whispered freedom and simplicity against her skin.

Pictures: Paco Grafie
Clothing: Antica Sartoria Positano by Giacomo Cinque
Shoes: Camper
Headband: Fumbalinas

In the heart of the 90s techno beat,
dancing the pain away, oh, so sweet,
Whigfield’s “Saturday Night” comes alive,
As Snap’s “The Power” continues to thrive.

Drifting to Eiffel 65’s “Blue” skies above,
A trance of emotions, a journey of love,
Guru Josh’s “Infinity” guides our flight,
Through the electric night, so pure and bright.

Beats of La Bouche’s “Be My Lover” ignite,
A passion that burns, a feeling so right,
Technotronic’s “Pump Up the Jam” commands the floor,
As we dance freely, wanting more and more.

Pictures: Greta Schoop
Editing: Sara Streule
Clothing: Nixi Killick, Shoes: Dixie,
Sunglasses: Gucci, Handbag: Jolie Laide

In a sea of lavender, where the bees hummed,
A girl with pink hair, a soul that danced and strummed.
Her heart, a canvas painted in hues of love,
In Provence’s embrace, she sought dreams above.

With a lace umbrella, she wandered the fields,
Where purple horizons whispered secrets, concealed.
The scent of blossoms, a sweet, fragrant trail,
Guided her steps, where love’s fickle winds prevail.

Frida Kahlo, her idol, a woman of might,
A tempest of colors, her pain took to flight.
Yet, the girl in the lavender, though inspired,
Felt shadows of doubt, her spirit untired.

She sought love’s embrace amid blossoms aglow,
But love, a fleeting wisp, chose to come and go.
Her heart, like a butterfly, fluttered unsure,
In the field of love, it was love she’d endure.

The hues of her dreams were a painter’s delight,
Yet love’s cruel strokes often marred the canvas bright.
Frida’s resilience, a beacon to pursue,
But her frailty was human, her strength, not imbued.

Like a lavender bloom, so delicate, fair,
She craved love’s devotion, its tender care.
But seasons would pass, and hearts might betray,
In the lavender field, love’s price she would pay.

Love found and love lost, a bittersweet score,
In the lavender field, she’d search for amore.
Her pink hair would sway in the sun’s golden gleam,
As she yearned for a love that would linger and beam.

Dress & Fan: Antica Sartoriapositano
Earrings: Carolina Curado

In a realm of dreams, where magic thrives,
Resides a pink-haired gentleman, enchanting lives.
With grace and poise, his presence ever grand,
He dons a royal blue suit, a sight so grand.

A palace, splendid, stands amidst the land,
A tapestry of wonders, designed by his command.
Its towering spires reach for the azure skies,
While secrets whisper in every room, a sweet surprise.

Within those walls, a love affair takes hold,
With roses as his muse, their stories yet untold.
Their petals, blushing, in hues of softest pink,
Mirroring his vibrant mane, in harmony they link.

His heart, a garden, blooming with affection’s might,
Nurturing love’s blossoms, beneath moonlit nights.
For roses, like love, require tender hands,
To flourish and grow, as nature’s art demands.

Oh, pink-haired gentleman, a beacon of grace,
With your love for roses, a charm none can efface.
May your palace forever be a haven for dreams,
Where beauty and love intertwine, like eternal streams.

Photographer: Fabiana Nunes

Suit: Sumisurra
Hat: Fabienne Breederland
Shirt & Belt: Vintage, Shoes: Sara Melissa

The clock at the diner said quarter past six. But the reality was different in a world where clocks ran out of battery and had so little importance that nobody even noticed their missing ticking. The ghost next to her held her hand and asked what she wanted.

What question was that? she thought. She wanted everything and nothing and both of them at once. She was starving, and her stomach hurt from too much cake wolfed down after midnight. She wanted to feel the wind in her hair, breathe independence, and stay safe forever in her eggshell.

The coffee went cold while she was daydreaming, looking at an imaginary starry sky filled with the lights of the passing cars. The ghost said it was time to leave. But where to? To the home she never had or the one she ran away from? To the past she was running from or the future she feared?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. There was the memory of lemon cake lingering in the air. She saw herself when she looked inside her body and found calm. Not everything, not nothing, but an anchor that kept her in the presence. Maybe this was life.

Clothing & Hat: Vintage, Shoes: Melissa,
Sunglasses: Saint Laurent, Photographer: Roland Urech
Location: Cindy’s Diner