writer-artist-thinker-reader

The way Maxwell went up the stairs was the way he went down. One at a time, almost tiptoeing to not make any sounds, to not wake anyone. The day I met him was the day that the sun never rose too far above the clouds. Half hidden behind their fluffiness; it didn’t stop me
There’s not much to report except I bought a few new stamps, puzzles, and started a new journal. There’s something unexpected that might be happening in my life when my lease runs out. I never thought it would be so soon, but it’s looking more promising than ever. I’m not 100% sure how to feel

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