bohemian love doesn’t care about the depth of these imponderables
my best friend is gone.
I am sadness, a bottomless well, a black curtain of night.
I guess you just sort of get used to having an essential part of you missing for most of your waking hours. but I see us traveling together in our dwindling days, the path narrowing, our aged eccentricities adorning the twinkling sky, comfort settling down on us like leaves from the windy trees.
the title of today’s post comes from this lovely little french song by Coralie Clément. it’s just divine.