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"When the borderline is alone, continuity and connectedness cease. Like sand falling through her fingers, her confidence- her reality- slip away."

"Now first, as I shut the door, I was alone
In the new house; and the wind 
Began to moan. 
Old at once was the house,
And I was old;
My ears were teased with the dead
Of what was foretold,
Nights of storm, days of mist, without end;
Sad days when the sin
Shone in vain: old griefs, and griefs
Not yet begun.
All was foretold me, naught
Could I foresee;
But I learned how the wind would sound
After these things should be." 
- 'The New House', Edward Thomas.

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July 05th 1998, I was blessed with a curse. A blanket, though cold and rough. A smile, though harsh and forced. A life, though bittersweet. 

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Tired by day, tired by night. A night owl who never sleeps and complains about being tired too much. 

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Instagram: littleartisan (I draw when I don't write.)

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