i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead

awake but not quite.
i am sick and the fever cradles me in its cold hands, tracing goosebumps along my skin. my body feels like a furnace inside of it, though. my throat is sandpaper raw, like desert thirst.

hmm i am cutting up fabrics for art.


rachel leaves tomorrow for good and i am making a solemn promise to write to her and send her drawings this time. now you have it in print ♥