9:40 AM

A word that sounds as soft as pink is, goes as deep as black goes, weighs as little as white does. I wake up in my apartment, open my balcony doors and look out over the city I've chosen to live in. Smell fresh bakery products, look over the rooftops, feel a gentle sunlight on my skin. Then I tiptoe across the hardwoord floor, open my wardrobe, and pick my softest things-- the things that make me feel secure, lovely, feminine. This lace, those pleats, a touch of velvet and a piece of silk. It is not warm out: I coat myself in camel-tinted warmth, reaching almost to the floor, I match the colors of my face to the colors on my body-- black lines, pink lips-- and I spray myself with the scent of dark womanliness. A woman with secrets, parts of her mind you will never see. The effort to look as effortless as she does. The longing for a life she acts out, but doesn't fully feel as her own: that's what the clothes are for. I go down to the bakery for a freshly-baked croissant, go back to my apartment, by now flooded in an autumn sun, I uncoat and sit cross-legged back on the bed, finally, with my croissant and some fruits laid out on a white plate, on white sheets. I eat slowly, I savor, I clench my cup of tea. I feel pink, and black, and white. I feel woman.

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  1. Love your picks. Some basics and staple bits!


    1. Thank you! I'm so excited to get them now haha :)