3/26/2008
taken : 3/26/2008
Today Rachel and I went to DAM to see the Impressionist exhibit. It was neat. I saw some pieces that we have talked about in class.
...We then sent my mother a postcard.
...
My hand? Why my hand?
I'm not sure.
I know at the time when I took it, it meant something.
But I can't fucking remember why.
So I guess it doesn't matter.
That meaning doesn't matter anymore.
That feeling doesn't matter anymore.
and it becomes some sob story.
...
fuck it.
1 comment:
you need a cuticle makeover. ill help
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