so ordinary

layer, don't suffer. autumn is not a season for stoicism. wear the big coat, wrap yourself in a scarf that could easily double as a blanket, let your sleeves swallow your hands. there is something romantic about being slightly hidden inside too many layers, like you're a mystery passing through the cold air.

walk everywhere. if the leaves are falling, you owe it to yourself to hear them crunch. take the long route home just to see how the streetlights catch on wet pavement. every walk is a small theatre piece when the world is turning golden and red around you.

hot drinks as a coping mechanism. it's not really about the coffee or tea; it's about the ritual. holding something warm so your soul doesn't leave your body. watching the steam curl in the cold air like poetry.

movies that feel like sweaters. dead poets society, for when you want inspiration to ache, when harry met sally, for the comfort of love wrapped in autumn leaves, little women, for that bittersweet warmth that feels like home and heartbreak at once.

read something dramatic. autumn is not the time for light paperbacks. it's for Brontë storms, Dostoevsky despair, Euripides wailing choruses. books that feel bigger than you, so when you close them, the silence of your room feels charged with meaning.

finally back with my usual tumblr posts right in time for the beginning of autumn hahah. <3