I am starting a collection of only right-hand gloves. It’s ever so bourgeois to have two.
This is how the fire starts. This is how we burn.
Evie wanted to cry. From fear. From exhaustion, yes. But mostly from the cruel uselessness, the damned stupid arbitrariness of it all.
My cholera's acting up again.
If you tell them what they want to hear, they don't bother to try to see.
Does my new feminism make me look fat?