I worry a lot about being an unreliable narrator especially to myself. Remembering constellations of experiences and emotions the brightest ones drowned out the rest and leave you with a simplistic but not overly nuanced understanding of the landscape
How I interpret something today is maybe not what really happened but is that bad? Maybe it's only bad when my judgment leaves my own head and escapes into the world
The magic of wild feeling
Let my space have an extreme scent, in either direction
Let my space get musty
Let my space become cluttered