sometimes just existing in the same space as someone is so lovely. sitting on a couch together, not speaking. you, seated next to me reading separately and listening to music. even if we aren’t exchanging words, there’s a comfortable silence and the love is always there.
[Saved as a draft on July 5, 2015 at 6:39 p.m.]
A little sunburned from the thirty-minute drive home, hair a mess, bum numb from sitting in front of the computer for more than eight hours a day. That’s how I would describe the end of each weekday to a stranger. I’ve learned so much from the many drives to-and-fro alone. I’ve learned to be impatient for home, for the weekends. I’ve learned to do the opposite–by driving on the slow lane. Sometimes I record myself singing. I make it a habit to wave at children–I half-regretted doing so only once: The traffic was moving at a snail-like pace, and that was the longest fifteen-minute waving session in my life.
Other people may call that place the Avenue, but I shall always call it the White Way of Delight.
W I N T E R has finally come.
Gilly just solved Westeros biggest mystery and all she gets is a grumpy boyfriend and a road trip
I guess that’s how people go on, without knowing how.
Let me be the exhale. The best wine.
The wish on every eyelash.
beyond my horizons.
The earth rotated
unnoted in my notebooks.