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damn, sam, i am a woman that rains.
i will look for a pattern, though, and see what emerges.
i found this nook, in my room. i always knew it was there, but i am at a vivid loss as to why i have never taken advantage of its sweet perch before, why i never really thought of it until this moment. it is like a window seat, perfect in every way for me to sit and gaze at the passersby. and pass they do. you would be surprised at the action little hamlet gets. i am a dirty city, they are the trains chugging through my stationary life.
i feel like a trapped little princess, stupid but maybe pretty because the boys tell her so, and she might believe them. i like my castle, because to get to my window, you have to squat down. here i rest at my lowly station. come, sit down with me and rest for a minute. we can muse in accompanied silence.
maybe one of the desolate princesses in my recent storybooks. it's almost a tragedy to me, when i read something that so captures me, and wraps me up tight in a cocoon of fascination and awe and jealousy and exquisiteness. good literature, it feeds me. no, it saturates me. and after i have finished with it, taking in every single last wordcrumb of perfection, i am left with another insatiable hunger. the caliber of my last excursion into paper and pretty ink land heightens my taste and i know how difficult it will be to find something of similar loveliness again. they only come along so often, and usually by accident. but i am not ungrateful for the time i've had, for the discovery i've found. so while i am drunk off the language of a story that consumes my heart, i am sobered by the thought that it will end soon, and my next draught to satistfy my thirst is uncertain.
i suppose that's why i reread my favorite books. i feel like belle. (strange, recurring princesses.) i know they won't disappoint me. i suppose that's why i'm reading time traveler again. but also for other reasons.
when i think about words
writing
books
paper
english
my future
i feel contentment.
some flowers are coming out of the ground, and windchimes aren't really that pretty sounding.
i will look for a pattern, though, and see what emerges.
i found this nook, in my room. i always knew it was there, but i am at a vivid loss as to why i have never taken advantage of its sweet perch before, why i never really thought of it until this moment. it is like a window seat, perfect in every way for me to sit and gaze at the passersby. and pass they do. you would be surprised at the action little hamlet gets. i am a dirty city, they are the trains chugging through my stationary life.
i feel like a trapped little princess, stupid but maybe pretty because the boys tell her so, and she might believe them. i like my castle, because to get to my window, you have to squat down. here i rest at my lowly station. come, sit down with me and rest for a minute. we can muse in accompanied silence.
maybe one of the desolate princesses in my recent storybooks. it's almost a tragedy to me, when i read something that so captures me, and wraps me up tight in a cocoon of fascination and awe and jealousy and exquisiteness. good literature, it feeds me. no, it saturates me. and after i have finished with it, taking in every single last wordcrumb of perfection, i am left with another insatiable hunger. the caliber of my last excursion into paper and pretty ink land heightens my taste and i know how difficult it will be to find something of similar loveliness again. they only come along so often, and usually by accident. but i am not ungrateful for the time i've had, for the discovery i've found. so while i am drunk off the language of a story that consumes my heart, i am sobered by the thought that it will end soon, and my next draught to satistfy my thirst is uncertain.
i suppose that's why i reread my favorite books. i feel like belle. (strange, recurring princesses.) i know they won't disappoint me. i suppose that's why i'm reading time traveler again. but also for other reasons.
when i think about words
writing
books
paper
english
my future
i feel contentment.
some flowers are coming out of the ground, and windchimes aren't really that pretty sounding.