Regular

“It has always seemed strange to me how you tape all your memories to the walls of your room. As if they would slip away if you didn’t see them every day.

The ticket from our first concert together that still has indie music seeping from the paper and ink.

The picture of the Eiffel tower you took in the winter during a particularly dark acid trip.

The plastic entry bracelet from the camping site where you got so wasted with your friends you lost the night sky.

You cover your walls with tokens of happy days. Tokens of love and adventure. Tokens of heartbreak.

But souvenirs can only last for so long, darling, and, loneliness clashes horribly with white paint.”

Isabelle F.