an odor of verbena

carrotea: softskingroup: Berlin 2013 by Hannes Lippert on...

Mon, 20 May 2013 22:58:44 -0700

carrotea:

softskingroup:

Berlin 2013 by Hannes Lippert on Flickr.

I want red hair!

hedge-hogs: Moment by Strawberry Mood on Flickr.

Mon, 20 May 2013 22:58:32 -0700

hedge-hogs:

Moment by Strawberry Mood on Flickr.

sybil-and-seymour: When I was younger, I liked drawing maps of places that didn’t exist. Often, my...

Mon, 20 May 2013 22:58:08 -0700

sybil-and-seymour:

When I was younger, I liked drawing maps of places that didn’t exist. Often, my dad would take me out for drives, and we would roll the windows down because the squelching heat would seep through the glass and sear our flesh. With the wind in my hair and sticky sweet smells in my nose, we would cruise around town, turning into subdivisions named things like Sky Ranch and Ironwood Estates. It was so astounding to me that there were people living in each of these homes; I often invented stories for them in my mind. When I would get home, I would take stacks of plain white paper and start charting my own tiny towns. They would be in the shapes of amoebas or kidneys, with little veins intersecting each other. Every street had a name, every house had a family living in it, and every gas station sold premium unleaded gasoline for two dollars and forty-nine cents. I would finish drawing a town, go for a drive, and then draw a new picture. I so desperately wanted to escape the place that I was living in that I would invent miniscule cities where everything was perfect: parents never lost their jobs, friends never killed themselves, nobody ever knew what true pain or sadness was. I eventually stopped drawing maps, and the idea of escaping where I came from has disappeared. My own tiny town is in my blood, and even though reality resides next door, I would take this world over a two-dimensional one anyday.