TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile
Today I noticed the seed shop had opened for the first time since March, to time, I suppose, with the autumn equinox. It’s a tiny shop, stocked with gardening tools and books on flowers and little wooden boxes of seeds. Like the shop's William Morris wallpaper, the proprietress appears asynchronous: long billowy skirts and white poplin shirts and hair gathered messily in a bun, recalling Helena Bonham Carter in A Room with A View. I like the aesthetic, and I start to think of how I have stopped arranging things to suit my ideals, and I really need to get back to that, if only to reclaim a small domain of my own. Later I checked on my friend, who had said she was aiming to complete her second book by this day. She hadn’t, but she was getting close, and I felt happy. The rain started to fall after our brief chat by Whatsapp, the first rain in a while, signalling the end of summer. It let up right before dusk, and the sky was pink and purple, the gloom diminished if only for a moment, but it was long enough to make me feel hopeful for the first time in ages.