thirty april
nine : twenty-seven p.m.

it feels like spring again. compliments in the darkroom (picked out a favorite, described it perfectly, i blushed and thanked him), advancements in the search, yellow ink on my sweater, it's all good as new, trying to nap while she plays cat stevens.

and i hope i have enough time.

music : the get up kids; cat stevens
literature : nothing
fixation : energy