need more people in my life to get pregant because making protective mobiles from bones and stones and fibers to hang by the crib is one of my very favorite ways to craft

i cant remember what exactly i dreamed last night but this morning i woke up thinking about when i was 16 and in london. i had been deeply, parasocially attached to Virginia Woolf for a good few years at the time (still am) and i begged my aunt to let us go on a walk to 22 Hyde Park Gate, just so i could see it. a few houses down there were men in unfamiliar uniforms holding ARs and guarding a door. i remember walking past a gigantic rat that was dead on the sidewalk, the blood on the concrete still wet, a bullet sized hole in its shoulders. i kept walking until i saw it, Virginia's childhood home, and inside through the window there was a woman doing dishes in the golden light of the kitchen. im sure Virginia couldve written something about the scene around me that was far more eloquent than this but all to say i still remember that night real well, the striking contrast of all the little lives living and dying on that short street. just felt really Her