“You make me write poetry and jot down sonnets in an overpriced little black book with paper reserved only for the most special, beautiful thoughts and inspiring ideas. You make me paint with colors I’ve left untouched for years. You ink my rough drafts and precisely clean my stray strokes. You fill the empty void, my black and white point of view, my shading of gray against off-white canvases, with color. You’ve retouched my soul and brought it back to life.”
ennui
Tumbleroll
Colophon
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