victoria

all the things i love, "how i love being a woman":
          
          i love spending longer than it'd take just to achieve a pretty handwriting, spraying a signature perfume on the pages so i can remember the days better in future, and tying the knot with a bow. everything about getting drunk on chilled rosé during afternoons, the beach curls and grains of sand left in our hair during the evening and ending the day with desi takeout and a bottle of syrah. i love how we'll call the other love and it's something entirely out of instinct, the chaos in front of the vanity, and writing messages with lipstick on the mirror, the nonchalant adjustment of the other's collar and the absent minded fixing of the other's hair mid conversation, they're all incredibly soft gestures. the way the ladle passes back and forth as the sauce simmers ( and how you blow it gently before they taste and still- 'careful, it's hot,'- and then- 'more sugar? anise? five more minutes?'-'yes, five more minutes,' ), cutting the thorns of white roses before giving them, and apparently being loved is a feeling close to someone clasping your bracelet for you, or so i've been told.

ikebana is so stressful, but the joy after is so rewarding. arabian jasmines are rarely used for these, but they're my favourite. peonies and white roses are alright. stargazers are intimidating to work with, i'd much prefer calla and spiderlilies even. stargazers always look as if they're scornful, as if they're snarling, but so pretty still. it's exactly how donna tart said; "Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it," and that's all folks, little note of the day.

what the heck is this account please ignore this it was bipolar aftermath after me skipping my meds i’m buying a chastity belt bye