Different approach, same result. The difference is — I was ready this time.

Full grown, yet inedible.

It's ok, I'm ok

Fresh air makes my head ache. I've got meds for that. A leaf from our little spot over the meadow, a dried little tangerine that smells lovely if you scratch it with a fingernail. A piece of paper from a place where we felt great but I don't remember where it was. And a dry little twig to make a wish on.

You do this. Everyday.

I have nothing more to say. It's all in the Postcard.

Soft core. Tender heart. Milk chocolate and chopped hazelnuts coating.

Pistachio flavoured ice cream still tastes like that lighthouse trip we've had five years ago.

I'm obsessed. Like it's still 2017