champêtre

I'm quietly tired of black and white film. It's much too moody.

It would seem in my head that I have everything in the world to do. I look for the sun shining off all the floors and corners, and reminisce until all my memories are properly tired of me. Things like bleeding toes and karaoke nights in sterile hospital wings. Everybody would remind someone else of their mother, and you'd have to tie all your thoughts together with brown parcel string to keep from fluttering away with madness' hems.