I never know why I go outside even for just a quick trip since it’s cold out.
Then it creeps then it rises and is always a sheer northern breeze that makes me smile with the right song on.
I say song better than tune because it’s more specific or like now it just blows my hair like a little microblast of a hair dryer set on cool only for the sun to ablaze me and my waves of curls before i could bother to rebound to touch them.
Free, shinier, pretty.
False terms of abandonments but the cat meows anyways. Onto the next.
petrichor - archive 