MIND: Interrogation

And are you in love? And are you happy? And do you sometimes write a poem? And have you had your hair cut? And have you met anybody of such beauty your eyes dance, as the waves danced?

// Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Quentin Bell

SOL: Razbliuto

I painted your frame in a coffee shop
On a fogged up windowpane
Just to show the world
I can’t forget your taste
The peculiar way you strip down to
Nude lace with no shame
Hibiscus drips down your skin
Still tight from the salt in the sea
I want everyone to know what you’ve
Done to me

3AM Thoughts // AKA “I Am No Longer Welcome at the Starbucks on King.”

MIND: Obscurity

I sometimes wish that I had been born in some obscure corner of the world… In Iceland, perhaps, or some South Sea Island, where one could live a normal life without being part of the great insane world struggles.

// Sylvia Plath