The last time I saw Juteau cry was in October. Truthfully, I didn’t see her crying, but I saw the aftereffects: the smear of mascara trailing like dirty rainwater down the side of an abandoned building, the eyes as red as a desert sunset. She didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t want […]
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Dreams of Great Import
4am writing ~a moth to a flame ~abandoned clothing ~afternoon doodles ~alone with my thoughts ~Amazon isn't all bad--just half that way ~anger ~Antarctica ~apricots ~awkward ~bad dreams ~bad ideas ~bath ~beautiful people ~Bez ~Bez does have one hell of a milkshake ~Bez is sharing my dream waters ~Bez is sneaky ~Big Sur ~black stones ~Blood and Bone ~blushing ~books ~breakfast ~Brianna ~Bruce Springsteen ~bruises ~butterflies ~can't focus ~Charles Bronson ~Chinese food ~Christian ~chrysanthemums ~cinnamon ~clawfoot tub ~cleanliness ~closer to heaven ~coffee ~coffee and cake ~complicated ~constellations ~cover art ~culinary passions ~currents ~curry
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Réalité et PrintempsShe walks down the forest path, like a lost girl in a fairytale, ivy and feathers forming a ragged crown in her hair. Yesterday, she was making tea in a kitchen in Paris, and then without even having to click her heels together, today she finds herself moving like a ghost between ash-colored trees. She […]
The Scent of GhostsDevURLI get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and find Juteau sleeping in the purple tub. Her hair is draped over the back of it, and it hangs in dark waves over the porcelain. She breathes softly and her eyelids twitch as I slip into the room, but she […]
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