Monday, 31 March 2014


When I think of what I am, I often find parallels between myself and a post-modern artwork: I make very little sense, sometimes I look completely ridiculous but I’m worth a lot because of who made me, and sometimes have something profound to say. I am quiet and I am loud, I am quick but not always smart, I am strong when I trust the One who made me so and weak when I do not. I love wholeheartedly. I am brave because I have practiced being so. I fail at trying to comfort people but I can make them laugh and that’s almost the same thing. Hotels make me uncomfortable but I’ll live in the bush on berries and roots. I am a secret keeper, a life lover, a music maker, a bear hugger, a coffee drinker, a wanderluster and a God seeker.

I am Anwyn.


P.S Picture by Lara Anastasia ||

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

The Garden Party // A Reunion

On Friday, something amazing happened: The Cunninghams came home.

Yesterday, I was privileged to witness the reunion of many faces, dear friends and kindred spirits who hadn't seen each other in two years, four months, a week and six days. It was beautiful, and we through a party to celebrate. People generally do, you see.

My beautiful setup buddy/model, Tyndall. We had fun passing jokes and sticky tape during the hour before party time. 

Fleur and Shalem clapping to "My Auntie Anna" with Katie and Emma to commentate. Thankfully, no one snapped a hamstring.

Well I couldn't not put this picture up.

"Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies."
- Aristotle

 LOVE | Anwyn

Sunday, 2 March 2014

The Woods

The Woods by Daughter on Grooveshark

Some of you may have been wondering the meaning of Tiny Sylvan.

tiny sylvan
noun: sylvan; adjective: silvan
  1. a little person dwelling in the woods; woodsman.
    "a tiny sylvan revels in a glade"
    • someone of short proportions who finds comfort in pleasantly rural or pastoral surroundings.
      "attracted by sylvan charm"
In short, I am the tiny sylvan. A coppice of bottle greens, dark browns and soft greys provides me with a sense of contented joy, an opulence of the desire to discover and to explore. Unknown birds call to one another above my head, and the song combined with the rush of wind in the trees and the trickle of a brook somewhere makes me feel as though I am experiencing soul food through my ears. A path is made to guide, but the woods off the beaten track seem to whisper "come away, come and find us." It's a call I find hard to resist, and often don't. And why not? What are a few bites for the sake of discovery? Or grazed knees in the face of adventure?

When you are next in a woods, close your eyes and listen, and perhaps you'll hear it, like the whispers of children and the soft blow of a pipe "come away, come and find us."