TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations & other curiosities :: profile
10.16.17
The eerie calm before Ophelia arrives: all the birds are quiet, except for my resident wren, whose song entwines with the susurrus of restless trees. I'm partial to stormy days, despite the peril. Maybe cuz of it. The senses are keener.
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