Saturday, July 30, 2011



I have always felt so much older than I actually am. In my mind
I'm planning floral arrangements, matching china and dreaming
of the art, books, and textiles that will litter my 
future apartment - charming, sophisticated, chic.

I've come to a point in my thirty-something mind where
I can fully appreciate the beauty of things. Unattached
from the interests of my romantic younger life
I've redeveloped a love for my senses: cashmere, the 
scent of the perfect soap, an exquisitely mixed
Old Fashioned... 

To grow old isn't so terrible after all. 

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