It was the year of clay underneath my fingernails. The year of handwritten goodbyes, the year of alcohol, of gazebos, of blue-eyed angels in trench coats, of chartreuse cardigans and lemon water. The year of peppermint tea at two in the morning, poinsettias that made me cry, of bedside lamp sonatas. The year of stubborn Chinese food, pizza box jokes and carpeted misogyny. The year of words, of nostalgia, of letters to Chicago and breakfast beignets in New Orleans. The year of endings but also of many beginnings.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
'12
(Just a little reflective piece)
It was the year of clay underneath my fingernails. The year of handwritten goodbyes, the year of alcohol, of gazebos, of blue-eyed angels in trench coats, of chartreuse cardigans and lemon water. The year of peppermint tea at two in the morning, poinsettias that made me cry, of bedside lamp sonatas. The year of stubborn Chinese food, pizza box jokes and carpeted misogyny. The year of words, of nostalgia, of letters to Chicago and breakfast beignets in New Orleans. The year of endings but also of many beginnings.
It was the year of clay underneath my fingernails. The year of handwritten goodbyes, the year of alcohol, of gazebos, of blue-eyed angels in trench coats, of chartreuse cardigans and lemon water. The year of peppermint tea at two in the morning, poinsettias that made me cry, of bedside lamp sonatas. The year of stubborn Chinese food, pizza box jokes and carpeted misogyny. The year of words, of nostalgia, of letters to Chicago and breakfast beignets in New Orleans. The year of endings but also of many beginnings.
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