My name is Izabella and if theres one thing i loathe like a sun burn — it’s writing “about me” sections, trying to sell myself like some page three whore with a shitty constitution and bad breath. Having said that, now that we’re off on the right footing and you know you’re not picking me out of a catalogue for an hour of fun, i’ll do just that. I was born to a black smith and a theatre director on a little spit of land full of butter, beer and bacon in the North Sea. I’m a depressionistic semi psychotic writer with a mean streak for cruelty and word vomit, a clown dying for laughs on the stage and the painter of shadows. In short — i’m a writer, actress, musician and photographer from Denmark who also meddles in filming. I grew up in England for a while where i learned some hard lessons about bad people, alcohol and sailing. When i turned 19 i high tailed it to Texas, where the ponies are smart and the horizon never ends. And where the man that was to sweep me off my feet was born.Thats what i’m doing here. Living on the American frontier, so many miles from home and always getting further away and loving almost every minute. There are bad times, hard times and sad times — as there is everywhere but it’s a mighty adventure to be sure. I’m 27 with the wisdom of an 80 year old.
My life is a book with old linen pages that need to be filled, and one day i will reach my last page. The page that is barely hanging on to the spine of the threaded book. I’ll be sitting in a rocking chair, on a porch, thinking of the many places i’ve seen, the people i’ve loved and the many homes i’ve lived in along the way; as i’m watching the sun go down while my life wastes away to be carried by the wind — to whom ever needs it next.
But, until that day comes — i’m just living.
And thats why you’re here, i’ll suppose.
To see where the hell it is that i’m going and if i’m ever coming back.