In small squares of sticky paper, we write notes to ourselves, it's a private conversation deemed irrelevant with time and isn't that our existence?
This time of the year we all look back, we try and take our pitfalls with a pinch of salt, and ponder on all the wasted time
I can wish that the weekend should have been better, but I'll just put it to rest and move on.
Adulthood beckons as the fog outside grows thicker.
Hope is perhaps my defence against the future.
It's very easy to go wrong with lights.
Halloween was my excuse to get candy, for my sister it was a game of dress-up.
Who knows where we head from here? Does it matter?
I love holidays, and when they're government holidays, even better.
From a time of silencing, we've moved into a time of speaking.