laughing about peterborough and rubidge street and making coffees and thinking in the orange room upstairs with lindsey. we made the most sense in that room. uni books and notes everywhere and spray paint on the carpet. a window to crawl out on for cigarettes on the rooftop. the cat was there too sometimes.
my purple curtain in spain, always the tree shadow was dancing on it. casting lines and shapes.
my bedroom at my parents that i lived in for the few months between school and budapest. picasso on my walls, jade plants soaking in the morning sun and my grandpa's old radio. plays like a new guitar. the dial is always set to jazz fm the premier jazz station for canada. i miss the green walls actually.
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