August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.
Sylvia Plath
smell of fresh rain sound of fans turning late afternoon naps sweaters and tea first thing in the morning dogs going crazy all the time drives with scenic views hips hurting from standing one conversation on repeat different shades of the same color people who don't think people who overthink memoir about a child star rereading fiction repeating affirmations oil calming my anxiety vibrant green leaves have faded on the tree outside my window
Kelly Severseike 