(no subject)
8th May; too many closing shifts, groceries I can’t eat fast enough and beers I drink too quickly, candles lit all over the house (scents that clash and finally weave together whether they like it or not), whimsically purchasing 600-page novels and $40 forty-fives, cherry blossoms cast into resin hanging on the wall above my bed, dreams of crossing bridges and documenting every last one with a photograph (and his response; let’s make a list), sending postcards, drawing dead owls, plans for Monterey (aquariums and owl-themed restaurants) and Savannah (restored Victorian houses and sun tea) and Berlin (castles and art and torture), the idea of Opal-mining in Nevada, missing the desert, always wanting to take the train, listening to bands I listened to when I was nineteen and wondering how we never knew each-other before and the way the universe is funny like that sometimes.