Breathless and torn

In a box that was nearly forgotten I found a stack of postcards and letters, held together by a bright orange rubber band, collected together from quite a few years past. They were from the summer months of one year, and tucked in behind them was a well-worn composition book with some of my ramblings
and attempts at poetry scrawled inside. Sifting through these found pieces from the past I felt as if I was paging through a photo album, polaroids with single sentence descriptions left on the bottom, or a well-meant wish you were here etched on the back.

Sometimes, looking back like this feels like peering into someone else’s life. A different chapter, I suppose; an earlier version of myself.

Into Dust (live) :: Mazzy Star

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