After a successful teeny tiny shopping trip this morning I am very ready for summer, equipped with straw boater and sunglasses. Also a blouse with rabbits on it,Oh Comely magazine, and The Darjeeling Limited on DVD. Mother bought me flowers to celebrate the end of exams/my names day (which was yesterday) and Grandma sent me a new moomin mug. Dad smoked some rainbow trout for dinner which smells heavenly and Mother baked a rhubarb crumble cake. Most gorgeous weekend. Happy, happy, happy.
Good-night, dear. If you were in my bed it might be the back of your head I was touching where the hair is short and mossy or it might be up in the front where it makes little caves about your forehead, but wherever it was it would be the sweetest place, the sweetest place.
Zelda to Scott, June 1931
For those of you who are curious, I spent my first night of freedom watching Bridget Jones’ Diary and Mamma Mia (The singalong version of course. When there’s no one home, I’m Meryl Streep. Red scarf and all.) back to back and crying in to my ice cream because I’m shit. Ice cream and chick flicks will doubtless be my down fall.
More fast fading summers. I miss the wildflowers. They’re growing at the base of my skull now, sometimes peeking from behind my eyelids when you say something especially beautiful. Just that when they’re growing there I can’t always see them, even if you can. Not sure what to do about that.
But I must admit I miss you quite terribly. The world is too quiet without you nearby. I go to bed early and rise late and feel as if I have hardly slept.
Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters
(via unecrepuscule)
