13 Jan 2022

It’s a dirty lake wrought with vermin and I am a girl in love, attracted to mess, attached to environments that mirror my interior breakdowns. These places are dear to me. They cast a spell that is only broken by work calls at eight in the morning, and even then, only a ripple.

A pink-orange sunset over an inlet of Lake Ponchartrain, trees and lights and boats cutting midway through the photo.