TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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Wedding no. 3 (of this year) coming up this Friday... I want to retreat to a cabin by a lake, surrounded by trees, leaves whispering against the windows and acorns pinging down the chimney. I want to sit at its hearth fire, with the hissing of witches in my ears, and read novel after novel. I want to eat grilled cheese sandwiches and apple after glossy apple, wearing a flower crown, with ink splotches up and down my arms from writing until the break of dawn. Maybe Daragh can join me, but I think he would go mad without a pub in sight for ages.