“…she stopped paying close attention to his words and when at red lights, examined the rain drops spattering on the windshield so intently that she almost stared right through them. Each drop seemed stuck on the glass, until another drop landed on it and they rolled down the window together, ending in a climactic splash.”
Sara: English major/Gender and Sexuality Studies minor, working at a nonprofit that gets young women ready for and interested in running for office/maybe soon applying to grad school, writer, clarinetist.
I post and reblog: things I think are pretty, things that intrigue me, things I'm a fan of, and things I care about.
Common themes include: books, writing, movies, more books, cozy beds, breakfasts, Doctor Who, Sherlock, feminist issues, and occasional pieces of my life.
I just want boys to give me their sweaters so i can smell like them and they can freeze and die in the harsh, unforgiving winter and womenkind can emerge in the spring victorious
Yes, but also, true story:
The hall I lived on senior year had a free pile, where you could ditch crap that wasn’t quiiiiiiiiiite garbage and anyone could take whatever they wanted.
One of the horrible freshman boys on the hall (loud, obnoxious, immature, etc.) left a sweater there. How do I know it was one of them? Read on.
I absolutely snatched it up because it is a glorious black and grey striped Kenneth Cole sweater with a perfect v-neck. It remains my favorite sweater to this day.
However: it took several washes to get rid of the icky, sickly sweet and musky, Axe (or similar), man-child smell out if it.
Südafrika/ Lesotho - Katze, cat. (by FabboFabs)
Hanging out in my dorm’s basement, baking two regular loaves of bread and one cinnamon swirl and cranberry loaf using this basic recipe, watching Tennant’s Hamlet with a friend, and wearing a Watson-esque sweater that I got from my hall’s free pile that still vaguely smells of men’s hygiene products but whatever because I kind of love it.
Just having a lovely afternoon, is all.