Life is so hard when your best friend is a 9.5/10 and you’re a strong 4 with the right filter and lighting
Today a pigeon almost flew into my head while I was crossing the street, but I ducked and avoided it. “This is it,” I thought, “Today is my day.”
This summer is a patchwork quilt of hazy memories; blue silks torn from the sea and sky, white cotton fog to fill the rest. I track time according to the tan of my shoulders, drawing lines between the bug bites on my legs like a map of constellations I can chase in the evenings. It is the lonely song of fog horns that call to each other like lost lovers. This summer is the heady anticipation of something that does not yet exist; silent conversations between bodies as the air grows electric. It is the wild pounding of my heart in my chest from too sweet morning coffee and saccharine late night conversations. Your fingertips rising and falling gently skimming surfaces; the calluses on my palms growing and breaking apart. It is passing the Golden Gate Bridge more times in one month than I have in a lifetime. It is learning I cannot tame the ocean anymore than I could tame my own heart.
— Isak Dinesen
I want to go to Bernal Hill at sunset.