I gets weary, sick of tryin’
I’m tired of livin’, feared of dyin’
But ol’ man river
He just keeps
I miss the feeling of going somewhere and living a life expectant that tomorrow brings surprises and pleasures, sunsets and joy. Lately I have been collecting chestnuts and wearing a big check coat, sitting on a bench and staring at browning leaves and crisp blue skies. The change in seasons never fail me.
Napping under thunder. Nagasaki. Nanosecond. Nascent and nebulous future. Narrowing. Nude. Nectarine. Native. Nova.
Feels like forever since I last saw the ocean.
One of my favourite pastimes is having meals with women with dyed hair who love food (disclaimer, I am also a woman with dyed hair who loves food).
Travelled down to Hualien to visit Taroko National Park. I was still ill but determined to go since it was the sole reason I was there. In my fuzzy sick state I didn’t realise I had booked a solid hike and the temperature never dropped beneath 28c, but there were moments of perfection on the way up. Greeting the mountains when you’re at their height is a feeling I’ll never get used to.