when I wrote my last words here, it was summer. a new cat had just moved in to the room with the big windows of white wood and I would go barefoot most of the days.
is it already fall yet?
there is a magic about this season that almost is too much, and I have to hold on to my heart and know its strength to not fall for the melancholia of the crisp days, the smell of the leaves and the early moons, to not become a leaf myself, letting every breeze take me with it.
so I granted myself the quite, I made seas of ginger and elderflower tea and listened to what is within me, knowing that if I listened for long enough, hushed for long enough, there would be an aligning of stars some night, leading the direction.
I feel refreshed now, like after a long sleep on the attic, almost forgotten by everyone, brushing cobbleweb out of my hair, laying sight on the trees that will soon be burning.
/black dress by romwe
photography by zora beer/
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