Thursday, January 28
I hate these sorts of days, the ones where you feel you might cry for no particular reason, even though the sun is out and the sky is well, not totally blue, but blue enough that you can’t complain. It’s the kind of day where you long for the past or rather a past that actually never really was; a falsely remembered past, made more desirable by distance and muddled memory.
1 dirty hippies blowing your mind:
This post makes me sigh.
Sigh.
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