They can be childhood fables that were told in hurried whispers as you were being tucked into bed, or a movie you caught the tail end of 5 years ago after too many glasses of wine. A story woven into the bars of a song, lyrics too hazy to unweave till you’re in just the right state of mind.
These journal pages, they were put together at around 2 in the morning, the night before a day off, and I couldn’t quite tell you what prompted me to bust out the glue sticks and taper my thoughts down onto paper in this fashion. But i’m tempted to continue this way, at least for a bit, the cliche over caffeinated artist with glue-sticky fingers ripping papers at midnight and scrawling words out out out
currently on repeat :