not what i want to say.

a perfect sunday: sleeping in until you can't sleep anymore. waking up to sunshine on your face. toast with butter and jam and endless coffee refills. white pages covered with fresh black ink. doing your chores in less time than you thought it'd take. a phone call with a friend who always understands. a pile of photographs and the memories they hold. noodle soup that warms your body. music that makes you want to sing. clean bedsheets that smell snuggly fresh.

and, of course, a week ahead filled with possibility, and the chance to do it all again.

seen:

so many shoes and only two feet.

inspired:
shooting stars. full moons. pleasant surprises.

lost:
it shouldn't take me this long to write my grandma a letter.

found:
sometimes, i write elsewhere. can you find my poem in generation rice and essay in soapboxgirls?

overheard:
"there's so much you can do with an 8-foot cord." -- groovy dave, this guy at a coffeehouse. seriously, that's what he called himself.

nonsequitur:
i'm going to new york in 10 days. meet me at the top of the empire state building.

momentarily: