My god. This neighborhood. This sunshine. It’s heavenly in flesh whether hat, hair or dress, this fragile mind trembles tiny earthquakes with every step in NW Portland.
It’s as if all the art in the world decided to go for a walk today.
My tan lines give away my interests. My smirk hides something entirely different nowadays.
Despite my body starving for something, this fragile mind is stitched and wrapped in bandages, unable to understand why this incredible summer has become an indomitable prison.