the illusion

it catches me totally unaware. eyes carved from night sky, it is the first yet. hours lost to the study of something that's purely imagined. the second is equally subtle, written in autumn and winter. days now are lost here analyzing things better left alone. last is a favourite memory, by turns wistful and reminiscent.…

Advertisement

The Bibliophile’s Home

If I could go anywhere it'd be the constructed place in my mind that has a lot of books.This place is based on a real place I once went, a little town with a lot of beachiness, and the house we stayed in was totally wood. Inside and out, the walls were horizontal panels of…