❝ I love that sweet smell of decay that surrounds me in forests and woods. A kind of mulchy, deep, rich rot that has no connotation of death or ending, but rather of life and age. A sense of perpetual destruction and rebirth.
Hello again - I never seem to come back entirely, just in little pieces. Got about three weeks of freedom (imprisonment, more like - can’t wait till uni resumes), so I’ll try to be here as much as I can. x
❝ I couldn’t live where there were no trees — something vital in me would starve.