I’m driving home from a friend’s house along dark, unlit country roads. The darkness is like a thick blanket; enveloping, suffocating somehow. It’s a clear night and the stars are splayed out above like a scattered spread of pinpricks in…
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I still feel very nervous of sharing my poetry here; it feels much more honest and raw than to just post photos of something I wore, or to chat about things I might want to buy, or read, or bake…
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I am trying to make more room for creativity in my life. In a weird way I think that the main barrier to my creativity is self-consciousness. I worry that people on the train will think I’m weird for scribbling…
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