You won't be surprised if you learned I have a collector's tendency. A bit. Not in a massively life cramplingly problematic hoarding way, yet I do keep things. Maybe it's because stuff is comforting, like when I was a child. My room in one house was barely wider than my bed, in which was stuffed … Continue reading Patchwork heart
life
This April is the cruellest month
It was my birthday last week; not especially an important one, except for one reason. I am now the same age as my mother. Weird. It's weird to imagine me leading her life, when ours diverged significantly. Weird thinking about the responsibilities and worries she had that I don't and never will. Weird to think … Continue reading This April is the cruellest month
Writing Bec 