If there was anything else to drink, we would happily forget how the rain is made and never again believe in the colour blue.
Nothing like a horse
On grief
The end of a world as we know it.
Oranges pt. 2
It’s not easy coming home.
Oranges
Speaking about sunshine and the ocean and not speaking about either.
Still
On familiar February's and the different shades of not knowing what happens next.
What I Am Good At
Starting to believe that there is more than one way to, and for, everything.
On the hard edges
A testament to, and for, living far away from everything that feels like smooth-sailing.
Photos from nowhere
Parking lots, fields and fields of them. Undulating, waves on waves of rolling heat bouncing off all the barren, the lack of anything that is somehow everything. Sun-beats and torn nails. This town feels like I swallowed six long summers whole.
