And breathe.

Recently I have been on mid-semester break from uni and life is good. I blinked and looked around a good 12 hours after my last essay was handed in and surveyed the chaos that had preceded to take hold whilst I was imminently preoccipied with the quite obvious and world-ending task of completing that last essay, which, had it not been perfectly, would have obviously caused the downfall of all civilization as we know it…obviously. I have now begun to live somewhat normally again, with the beautiful routine of waking up each morning and beginning the day with incessent pillow talking with my best friend (see below the surreptitiously placed wedding photo!), carefully considering his patient but argumentative grunts into the pillow before launching into my next supposition on the value of tinted glass bottles as 3D glasses. The real appreciation of a modest tea drinking session in the morning, when the fog still hovers about the house, making me

read more And breathe.

Not the stuff of Myths.

I kept my wedding bouquet. It hangs against the wall in my study next to my desk. I really loved my wedding day and for days afterwards I would stand and smell my bouquet reliving the moments its perfume conjured. As the weeks have gone by, I glance up every now and then at the browning and fading colour, the fragrance no longer wafts through the room but if intently desired, I inhale the soft remenants of the memory of its once intoxicating fragrance. As I sit here looking up at its existance slowly fading into sepia, this process of stagnation and slow decay has suddenly tweaked a resolved thought. This bouquet was carefully put together, with the colours complimenting each other and framing the individual flowers that make up the whole, the stalks were pulled firmly together so they didn’t unravel; this bouquet was beautiful. On the wedding day the colours bloomed bright and the scent was full and

read more Not the stuff of Myths.