Up to twenty two, now. We're moving house, and though I'm not doing much of the work, it is erratically exhausting and thrilling. We are stripping wallpaper and ripping up carpets, throwing away garden bags and dismantling furniture. I feel weaker every day, I wish this wasn't happening during one of my body crises. xx
/ about.
my fingers and the moon may be interlinked at some level, and it's more efficient to be able to tell them apart, but it's all romanticism.