The Milk-Eyed Mender

Just having a moment, sat in the cupboard. My flatmates didn't really understand.

The jumper is H&M Menswear and the boots are secondhand from Barnardo's Vintage, and slightly too small but too good to part with. After today's archaeology tutorial and talk about fieldwork this summer, I felt like wearing this.

This week is a little unspeakable. Joanna Newsom has been good company today.

What is it

about train journeys

that's so relaxing?

I feel a bit like I'm in pieces. It isn't necessarily a calamity or a call for therapy. Maybe having parts in pieces lets them make more sense than when jumbled up with everything else. I see mosaics and jigsaws and sand and shattered mirrors. Beautifully broken into bits. Perhaps being in pieces would give me an opportunity to look a little closer, understand better what falls between the cracks.

When I went home, my mother made me tea from the leaves my sister brought back from Paris (for the packaging more than anything).

Ella was wearing a wolf (and one day, I'll have one, and seven cats, and chickens), and now she's on the other side of the world for quite some time.

These are the crocuses I planted for my mum last time I was home. They're shooting upwards into the light and soon I'll feel better, and I will be too.