everything else: notes to self
dear internet,
tinyletter composed of sentences from misc. notes on my iphone 2021–2023:
constancy of self is my favourite ritual. it starts off feeling unhinged but then you lean into it and it’s wonderful. she gave me an armful of flowers but i put them in my mouth and they turned to sticks. one day a little piece of cellophane, translucent in mid-air. it’s the weather, we say, as i make coffee and my flatmate cuts fresh bread, or as i look at a vase full of old coins on my friend’s work desk, or as i text while spooning oatmeal into my mouth, or as i initial my soymilk to differentiate it from the other soymilk in the fridge. i dreamt it had been raining into the back of my cupboard, which was a dark-grained wood. i dream of new york i dream of the curve of a raptor’s beak i dream of the beach. verabscheue: to abhor. i think of the person i was in that city and she feels very far away, even though i wear the same clothes and the same tote bags knock against my hips. rain. rain. i am currently hovering on the advent of a feeling.
love,
t