I Bake Apple Tarts

and listen to bat for lashes. my days are lazy sipping on peppermint tea every morning. at desperate times i go out the flat gate and sneak on for some menthol cigarettes, i befriend the smoke and the cold winter. sometimes my head is switched off i only dream about my future children and what their names will be, here is for a girl: Annikinar. please don’t steal it. she will be charming and a bit kooky and falls in love with violin. at times i also dream of walking down the streets of london and pretend that i was completely trashed after a gig in camden town. sometimes i regret wasting so much time doing nothing, sometimes i feel the urge of doing big and extraordinary things but most of the time, i fail in doing so. my stripy blanket is coloured blue. i enjoy grasping the early evening sky although i wish dali could paint his work on it every day. too many times i set the stove too hot when frying onions that it burns. i was fascinated with my apple tart the other day that i made two fruit tarts consist of bananas, pineapples, kiwis and apples right the following day. tomorrow is the day before the day after tomorrow, another puppet running through my daily life. oh, and i secretly take smashing headshots.

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2 thoughts on “I Bake Apple Tarts

  1. you look hot! 😀

    and i love your writings, as well as menthol cigs (but now somehow la light menthols are the only ones i can bear).

  2. why, thank you 🙂
    la lights are swell. those skinny a-milds aren’t bad either. the ones i do now are so shit i swear i’ll quit smoking soon. one wink and you’re left with the butt.

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