It's a Sunday of large sky, sun, and decent wind. I've been reading my friend Travis' zine that I got from my friend Mary while she was traveling through town:
"In the meantime, let's act like what we do matters".
And so I shall, again. Reminded. Thanks, Travis. And from the other side of the county: I love you, and your words matter.
I've been thinking of hearts and compasses as of late. I'm convinced that there are compasses in our hearts that lead us back to each other and ourselves when we listen to them enough to feel them: their silver needles unsteadily swiveling until they connect to their destined, but temporary, direction.
That's all for now. Let's build in the way that makes us rely on strangers.
xx
k.
On a personal note, I've realized that the smell of the rubber on gym shoes turns me on. Perhaps it is the scent in and of itself. Perhaps it is the anticipation and threat of warm blacktop. I am, and forever will be, a sucker for everything so soft and seemingly cushioned that will also totally fuck you up if you fall.
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