gabby (as we're hauling two folding chairs, a nightstand, and a shelf significantly larger than i am up to the street to our porch):our moving styles are very different. i, for instance, believe in reducing the amount of items i own. aurora, on the other hand.....
I sat today. On a large stone on a riverbank. The tranquil waters. The graceful sun. The peace and beauty that could not be denied. I thought it all might inspire me to write something about you. Then I realized:
you are my inspiration. Because of you, I know these things exist. Tranquility. Grace. Peace and beauty that can not be denied.
anon, i feel like i know you. and because i feel like i know you, i’m going to gently mock you for associating me with tranquility and grace, etc.
let’s reminisce about the time i needed stitches after stepping off a curb. let’s talk about how i spent all night getting my bracelets caught in my own hair, which is, incidentally, streaked with white house paint. (how? i don’t know. i did not consciously intend to look like an advertisement for the long-lasting effects of drylock.) what’s that horrible screeching sound, you ask? oh not to worry, it’s just aurora, pretending to be an elk.
“My mum has a business making soap from goat’s milk. It’s infuriatingly inefficiently run. It could be a very successful business, but my mum defiantly makes it unprofitable. Like, if you push her about it—‘mom, you literally lose money on some of your soap sales’—she says ‘Oh, but I really like the people.’ I’m fairly business-minded but my brother is much more so, and he can’t listen to her talk about it.”—
I’m always incredibly flattered when a brand-new blogger starts following me like out of all the blogs out there you somehow managed to stumble upon mine so early? Yay! It’s like I got imprinted upon by a baby animal!