be it by plane, or train...or car, or bus. seattle dear, i will find my way to you. maybe it will be next month. or perhaps it will be the following year, but it will happen.
i'm drawn to you, almost as if some cosmic force is telling me that i will find some missing part of myself within your midst. i think about you often, dreaming of your music...walking down your piers in the late morning hours...getting caught in the rain, feeling the chill in my bones. mmmgh.
one day. my walls will be graced by unique, eclectic artwork. and shelves and shelves of books, in all shapes and sizes. who are you? he asks. i tell him. i'm vintage. traditional really, with an edge of contemporary. a transitional twist. i'm funky art and cowhides. simplicity. cleanliness. white. grey. you know, cut and dried, by the rules.
and yet, somehow...i've got a little helter-skelter in me. don't ask me how. clutter, no. collections, yes. a messy bun to keep my hair out of my face, baggy shirts and a touch of blush. it's all in the eye of the beholder, right?
i don't really understand it myself.