On the smell of home

Last night my bed smelled like the house I grew up in. It wasn't my pillow or my blanket in specific, it was just how it smelled when I laid down. I inhaled, and inhaled to try to pinpoint what it was to recreate it but I couldn't pin it down. Sometimes it's difficult for me to wrap my head around smelling it only twice a year.

But this city is so beautiful, and when I am away from it, I miss it.

On le faux.

When things start going south,

all I have to do is think of drag Britney.

Suddenly, all is okay in the world.