In a pinch, she'll use verdana - although century gothic is her first love.
she was thinking about that other thing she loved yesterday... those long roads and the heat of the sun and trees and just wandering.
Wilmington. She loved it because everything good that had ever happened to her - happened there... and she'd had bad things happen in plenty of places including ilmy.
Flashes now of what she was trying to remember as her brain recalls images but it's all in the swoon of love for Other right now. But the images are there - the stormy sky in dawn... the final fence that was like those cards ... and how it was like living art.
Her father was a writer too (why does he always get mentioned in all lover stories)... but she had read his attempts at writing and liked to think that she would take a note from him and absolutely NOT degenerate into a throbbing throbbing need and document it... but shit, perhaps she'd already done that when she'd written on that happyrobot site... whingefests
whingefests followed her throughout the heavens.
She was thinking and feeling of jettisoning the crutch of a mate - freeing them both - or bringing him or something - but transforming.
She was thinking of transfmorming.
Here in the pink morning dress like pepto bismal
sitting in a cold cool suburb of a great western usa town.
coffee and c
and oh and oh the prospect of home.
