Speaking of shoes…
“When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.” — Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore.
Filed under: stuff I would wear, probably.
My bed. Wakey wakey.
Maybe I’d try it. I don’t know, maybe just once? If you promise to stay close and hold me if I cry.
Sir says I’m no longer allowed to claim I’m not into feeling worthless.
Because otherwise I’d be a liar.
Lately, my head’s been going to some pretty dark places.
I think I need a day where I’m just chained to somebody’s bed like this. I don’t need all that much attention, just to be used and feel useful every so often.
They say cats domesticated themselves.
I think they got a little help.
Thanksgiving with Sir.
I like the idea of her having spent so much time getting all nice and pretty, and then the cuffs and chains are so, so dirty.