Slowly Building A Forest In My House Where I Can Sit And Do Crafts :)

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"I thought that it was more likely the opposite. I must have shut grief out. Found it in books. Cried over fiction instead of the truth. The truth was unconfined, unadorned. There was no poetic language to it, no yellow butterflies, no epic floods. There wasn't a town trapped underwater or generations of men with the same name destined to make the same mistakes. The truth was vast enough to drown in."

Nina LaCour, from We Are Okay

Simone de Beauvoir, from Diary of a Philosophy Student: Volume 2, 1928-9; Tuesday, October 9

Text ID: I find myself back in the obscure sweetness of fall nights,