Just a tepid petite update.
(Isn't it odd how the human language was organized in such a way that the two words--tepid and petite--could not be merged into a space-length radius without at least a smithereen of muddle-tom. Yes, it is odd because in my opinion those two words just both call to mind the sweetest of pinks and beiges that would go divinely together. But, alas. The two lovers were separated by their definitions! Never... to be... united... under human power.)
I was Lucy. No, not Ms. In-The-Sky-With-Diamonds. Lucy from "Death by Landscape."
I felt like I had entered the picture. Just there, you could find me behind the tree behind the tree behind the tree behind the ones that are actually visible. How I wish I were a painter. I could paint people without even painting them. You don't have to paint them for them to be alive. They can just be there, living behind your painting. Creations need life after life. Why should we be granted so much?
And no, this is not just post-fever talk.
Tomorrow is a very odd day. Not odd, no. Just... cyclical in a way. One year passing from each memory that is all too stark and sudden. It seems surreal now. Like none of it ever occurred in the first place. I find myself doubting the past when I ask myself, "What was I doing at this moment one year ago?"
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