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After dinner in the hall, I take you into my candlelit chamber to confess my love to you. When we enter, you are greeted with this fire hazard, aflame with flickering light. “Forgive me…” I say, “I thought the candles would be romantic.”

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a big old city that i can feel in my bones, made out of royal blue skies and black coffee and slightly burn toast with the last of the butter smeared on it. i want big bay windows with cracked white paint, i want to sit in the sunlight and lay back onto the floor, alone. i want to dangle as far as i can from the rusty fire escapes at sunset, and blast the kind of music i like, the music they don’t play on the radio, as loud as i can and not worry about anything. 


but you see i also wanna live in a cottage with a thatched roof in the desolate ad bleak yet stunningly beautiful hebrides, and let the untamable wind blow my long dark hair into knots. i wanna keep a leather journal that i press little flowers into and collect feathers the birds leave by the marsh. i wanna wander through the heather fields with my blue-eyed border collie and splash rainwater onto my face. i wanna fall asleep under the gazillions of stars next to my highland cow.   


but then again i’d like to live in a cottage with big windows to let the light in with a little collection of mushrooms and daffodils in front. a nice little brook bubbles not too far away, where i could ditch my usual attire of ripped jeans and hoodies for beige sweaters pulled over flowy white dresses, i could make friends with the creatures that live there. the frogs and tadpoles would see me as a friend, and i would leave shiny things and buttons out for the crow, and little treats for the fox. 


or maybe i live in the coldest town you could fine, with nobody but me and my black cat. i could become the local legend of the crazy woman who lives in the snow, i could make myself warm soup and ski as fast as i wanted through the evergreens with no helmet on. on those cold winter nights i could wrap a thick fleece blanket around me and paint watercolor scenes of the millions of colors the snow reflects, and stay up all night watching the northern lights. 


hmm or i could move to the other side of the earth, the place where my family comes from, where i could live in a little house all by myself and spend hours hiking and exploring the wilderness beyond me, i could climb the tallest mountains and feel on top of the world, i could watch the mist and the light rain and the flowers that bloom in the spring and summer. i could live somewhere beautiful.


wherever i live, it won’t be the town i grew up in. i promise you that. 

(none of these pictures are mine)

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