I wrote this down somewhere else – but I’d like to have it in permanence here 

“today at MBS the sky was scarily huge and the sea was blue and wonderful; at Labrador the coastal hills smelt like how a sea salt lick should; at West Coast the robins were all fluttering along insipid wooden boats without a care. riding makes me feel strangely melancholic. like how reading murakami does. like we’re small and impermanent, and the world is a giant golem all amazing and ancient, then there goes insignificant Jiahui throttling along on her tiny little roadie”

It’s as if though life swept through in a grouchy hurricane – a sudden, intense feeling of being overwhelmed by just the very state of being. This was in passing mention yesterday. Life is wonderful and fascinating. I love living.



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