September 3, 2023
The dust settles and my heart is confused. It feels like it’s beating fast every other beat. Not skipping, doubling. Yet I look at my smart app and it tells me my heart rate is 42.
My little heart. You can slow now.
I’m watching daisy and the six, I’m watching billy Dunn and daisy jones fall in love, I’m watching Riley Keough and Sam Calflin make art together and the electricity between them lights up the whole of LA and drains my computer battery all at the same time.
My little heart. You can love too.
The sky turns to fire and I keep pausing my film to watch the new colour, a colour that looks like white dripped in gold and all I can think is how I want the adobe eyedropper tool in my iris.
My little heart. You can see beauty.
The peach pit drips with sugar, trough the pinholes of the iron table and onto the stone slabs of my terrace. I wonder if ants will climb up 8 floors just for a peach.
My little heart.
It’s all about the peach dripping with sugar at sunset on the 8th floor, watching people fall in love and realizing…
My little heart. You know what that’s like.