* By This Years Girl *
... I finally bought a couple of prints from one of my favourite artists...
Tales From The Treehouse
I bought one for him, because I like him. I'm the bunny. One day, on my future walls will be this and more art/prints, on another will be butterflies, dragonflies and moths... curiosities beyond; A place to fall away, be and dream, it's not about stuff, or having, but about whatever it wants to be, a secret place to share: beautiful. Because maybe, if it's even possible to stop ourselves from being attached to others, another, on one, the one, we are left with just ourselves, be everything, anything all at the same time, not being able to even give, all the while saying nothing, it's heavy, like one of those dreams where your feet can't run and your voice stays inside. Maybe then we revert back and keep going until were living in a dolls house or a fort in a field. Even if they aren't real places and just in our minds. Both are the same and I'm afraid I'd rather ... no, I'm just afraid. My fish can't breathe, the line won't catch, the bread sinks to the bottom and everyone is hungry.
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