shelleys (shelleys)

The small, white rabbit that lives in the woods behind my house hopped across my backyard this morning, stopping for a moment to look at me before disappearing into the bushes, a magical and unexpected encounter.

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Coffee and kindness.

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Memories are just ghosts we choose to keep close, gentle reminders of where we’ve been and who we’ve loved.

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Always marginal shallow, how deep love.

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Dead silence, dead silence, a piece of ice lake in the heart is closed with a dim gray, and my figure is tiny and hidden in such a night.

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Are you Aristotle's sister, Jeanne Masto?

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Then you became a memory I don't want to think of.

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