alraune

i am an itchy girl. i spent an over-indulgent amount of time in the bathtub finishing up a book that i borrowed from lara. as a result the crook of my finger is irritated from the spine of the book (the dye i suppose). once i start a book, i have to finish it, even if i am not terribly fond of it. an odd and long endured habit.

on saturday i rode the bus to work. i was sitting in front of a man who was speaking to himself in a foreign (to me) tongue. the tone of his voice possessed a rich timbre that lent an ambience strong enough to inspire me to receive it as relaxing. as opposed to filtering it out as chatter. in short he was straight out of wings of desire, which is no small feat. i would have loved to have captured it in a recording. i was afraid if i spoke to him that he would break the spell by speaking in english.

i find lately that i am finding comfort in small spaces, exploring the city in pockets.