A predictable book with an unexpected chapter. Dedicated to the wonder of simplicities. Plotlines explored by the hundreds of thousands who have come before. Made new with a fresh pair of suspicious eyes. Gentle left turns as guidance, while being sick to the back teeth with joy. Days filled with the bliss of sleep-drunken hangovers. Cured by needy cupfuls of lust. Discovering new tones in the corners of a heartwell. Tattooing an eternity across a blooming paradigm shift. As it turns out, some days, Sundays are the best of days.
9:40 p.m. - 2019-04-24
Recent entries:
CoMeIn - 2019-05-08
Of Bees - 2019-05-04
Interrupted Interpersonals - 2019-05-04
Pines and Needling - 2019-05-04
Claimed Ruination - 2019-04-24
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