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a potpourri of sense and feminine lunacy

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hello miss november

It is the first night of sweet November, where the streets are devoid of life, awash with cold rain and winds intruding your windows. There's no other place i want to be in except my bedroom.

The crispness of freshly laundered bed sheets, the plumpness of new pillows, the promise of warmth hinted by my thick, lavender-smelling quilt and some bossa nova. I also believe i'm writing this with my eyes closed and in the darkness of my subconscious i can see a pretty exciting week ahead.

M # Sunday, November 01, 2009.