It's too early for wandering, she thought.
My home is dying. It's walls - decaying. Touch the cracks on the ground and gaze up to the night sky. Know our thoughts are deluded. We are isolated.
Self-Portrait of The Artist as a Self-Conscious 17 year-old.
Waiting To Delete
We shall walk together but for a while, and then you will find your own path.
Maybe the world simply operates faster now, but I miss the days when my days had more breathing room. When I would sit in cafés.
Hello, I’m the great idea you’ve been looking for