I am Yva, who is who I am.

21, third culture kid currently washed up in my home town of Melbourne.

My veins may as well be brown with all the coffee I drink, granted, it's probably for the sake of interaction with cute baristas rather than a need for caffeine.

Rock 'n' roll is my lifeblood. I listen to pretty much anything but when I hear dirty guitars, heavy drums and a booming bass, I get goosebumps and go into my own little world where Slash is the mayor and Grohl is King. Incidentally, Kiedis is in charge of my funk (long story involving his friend George Clinton, Bootsy Collins and Old Gregg.)

art, movies, music, travel, bacon, comics, shoes, the smell of leather, beaches, fresh sheets, dogs, family, disney and dinosaurs.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is my homeboy.

This blogness monster is an embarrassingly pseudo-hip hybrid of art, fangirling and music for which I am actually not ashamed because it is my collection of lovely things. This is me, me is this.

Godspeed.
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