Cold weather comes but this time no melancholy. Instead I feel dried out by a wind that blows straight through me, that echoes and sings upwards.

handsome boy ^_^

Every now and then my grandpa calls me when it’s night time, his voice is warm and slow with scotch and I’m sleepy from a cone or two. After I say hello he settles into a rhythm of broken stories, it’s like listening to a radio skipping between decades. He tells me about traffic in […]

2/3/18 Lately the ghosts that I keep quiet have been haunting me // they stir like eddies of dust in silent corridors. I can feel my edges slip and blur like they did a long time ago. Trying to hold on to myself // to avoid tracing my fingers along old scars.    

snowy shots from Iiyama station

quiet