I have done nothing today. I feel like a puddle.
i am so eternally moved by textures and women who laugh in the face of the world. both fabric and incredible humans make me feel so small and giddy. i want to roll around the world covered in gold silk. i want to wear light cotton pants the color of blood. i’ve been thinking a lot about the sexual qualities of fruits and have been thinking about slender fingers holding bunches of fruits, vegetables, making clay bowls and then breaking them inward into little balls. i’m thinking about august, i think. i’m thinking about creators and makers, fruit droplets. my life is slowly falling into very small particle pieces but i’m listening to eartha kitt and reading through my old journals from home and tracking my patterns of growth and decay and i feel very much like if you cut me open right now i am a magic trick, a bunch of scarves tied into knots pulled out of my mouth, tomato vines all over my insides, everything pretty, messy, and pink.