Rice for the dog whose stomach is almost as sensitive as the girl who calls herself the dog’s mother. I have cried three times this week. It’s Monday. My car is a closet and an office and also a landfill and hell on earth and also it’s Eden. It’s that too. Because I am in it all the time and I think that maybe you know you love something when sometimes it is the thing you hate and also the thing you forget about or that you take for granted and also the thing that lights you up a bit. When you love the lyrics of a song, listen to it all the time, then you find a new one and you forget why you loved the other one. You still know the lyrics, you know them all by heart, you always will, but it’s not your favorite. Good, not great. And then, one day, one day you hear it, that song, the first one, and you remember that you love it. It’s your favorite and it always has been, even when you didn’t think it was your favorite anymore it still was. It’s like that. I’m not even sure if that makes sense, maybe it doesn’t, I don’t know, but it’s what it is.
Gorgeous