Sellotape

The tiniest little things piss me off and irritate me, and I think about them all day. I sort of root back and forth through the details in my thoughts, grubby hands fingering a pile of pages, tracing the scribbles which have risen under the pressure of a pen, for clues and meaning; a flaw in the facts that could be key to a sweet slice of revenge.

I hate feeling like I'm too colourful and shiny. Why are sepia people so much cooler & subsequently more self-satisfied? Looking at the world with wide-eyed innocence is all too often mistaken for vacuousness & lack of sophistication or WORSE; pretentiousness :(

Well boo you whores I am just fine as I am thanks.

Watching the incredible Semana Santa parades from our balcony & the fact that I got a 9 in my french exam are cheering me up. Even so, the air is thick with heat & there are only so many times I can go to the fridge & gaze at Clémence's delicious salad (that I'm not inclined to steal) before I want to hurl myself off the balcony. The heat is like a blanket, & at least as I fell there'd probably be a forgiving breeze to enjoy, before I skewered myself on the cross along with Jesus, who is bobbing his way past our window, or got eaten alive by the thousand beautiful flames that flutter and swell all around him.