twenty-eight april
one : forty-six a.m.

wonderful night.

we crawled through the unlocked window; the basement was all concrete, easels, wooden benches. two couches, abandoned paintings. and we talked about (almost) everything.

it felt like we owned the place. it felt like we were never going to stop driving. it felt like i should hold his hand.

and he called her to ask about me.

music : piebald (in my head)
literature : nothing
fixation : g