[Hello July]
It’s raining. And somehow, we’re once again having winter in July. It seems to be a standard these days. And really, I could just write a letter to July.
Don't you love home ?
Bonjour juin
[Hello June]
May has been a little crazy. Of the runs in the park slash flight to France slash rosé et mauresque with Anna-Sarah (every single night) slash book writing slash turning my kitchen into a mess to the point of no return slash painting on porcelain plates kind.
On breakfast for dinner – Bacon and egg sandwich
When home means finally-untangled hair, the sound of waves that won’t quit our minds – oh and of the shower he’s into two-open-doors away while this song is playing on repeat, only rain hitting the skylight is missing for the orchestra.
Bonjour juillet
[Hello July]
The first night of July smelled like freshly-cut grass. We could hear planes over our heads and, at that exact moment, it reminded me the evening we spent sat on the sidewalk by the motorway.
One night of magic rush
I had forgotten how purposeless words can hold a special meaning. Just like driving endlessly on the smallest roads, with no possibility whatsoever to get lost since we have no destination.
And it feels like a moment outside of time.
I love you like chocolate cake
I wake up to darkness, sleepy faces, and cold winds. I go home to darkness, empty streets, and many thoughts.
In between, there is flour. And sugar.