seventeen february
eight : fifty-two p.m.

i went back for more therapy. more ink under my nails, more abstract art.

and he brought his work in and turned up the volume on my bright eyes cd, and we talked and talked and sang along.

it could have gone on forever. just the three of us singing and making art and wondering if we'd speak again later.

music : bright eyes
literature : nothing..
fixation : making friends