need to remember that i'm no longer an enthusiastic young soul and the level of commitment i am generally comfortable with is If I Feel Like It. DO NOT BE FOOLED by moments of lively and spirited balderdash.
as a result, am feeling quite short of real rest lately, starting to look forward to Turkey where I can wander among dazzling dark eyed olive skinned strangers (led by and within a mini Singaporean society called a tour group- there is nobody my age in which i am both disappointed and glad) and enjoy some time in my head. am fairly determined to procure Turkish literature to read there.
words whistle from my teeth and roll up and under tongues
this much i will always remember: giddy happiness
so much so it feels like a cliche
like rolling down hilly meadows that smell and feel like grass minus mud minus bugs minus gross in fits of dizzy laughter and sunlight warming your face at the spot where the corner of your lips meet cheekbones in a wide grin and it isnt sweaty it is 18 degrees and you are wearing a whimsical dress but it never gets ruined and nobody sees your underpants