SO you take it upon yourself to judge the content of someone’s heart without ever having the chance to rip open a chest to peer inside. Instead you look at the way their arms flail or their facial expression, the way they extend a hand or recoil in fear. On a bench or through a friend of a friend, you decide on which adjectives you’ll use to describe this heart.
You decide that:
the heart is open, the heart is cold, the heart is kind, the heart is distant, the heart is hardened, the heart is shut-off, the heart is readable, the heart is murky, the heart is big. The heart is stony. The heart is a million things except for what it simply is: a heart.
It never occurs to you that: maybe we’re all just wasting our time trying to superimpose these value judgments on an organ. But that doesn’t stop us.
you made flowers grow in my heart
and although they’re beautiful
i can’t breathe
Reminder to self: we’re all a part of a giant shared collective experience mired in good and evil and love and fear and desire and emptiness and peace and calamity. (We are all made of stardust.)
In a crafty fury I’ve gone out and bought a new sketchbook, postcard book and scrapbook materials. I’ve been crafting like a wild crafts storm, spending hours pasting, trimming, doodling, painting, etc. Here’s a glimpse at something I digitally sketched today.
Graphite sketch of film icon Audrey Hepburn.
So excited to start my writing position !!!!!!!!
And my boyfriend’s birthday is coming up !!!!
And Kendrick Lamar’s album (which I am currently blasting) is 🔥🔥🔥 !!!!!
Coffee makes me feel like all is right in the world.
That is all.