That sad eyed girl. (pigeonwrites) wrote,
That sad eyed girl.
pigeonwrites

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Shadows Of The Afternoon

There were no swamps at all, nor alligators, nor brick powder and Bourbon street voodoo dancing in the streets long into the night. I suppose I was not as far south as I had imagined. There were dogwoods blooming in pine forests that I think stretch on forever, and purple hanging wisteria on all the little wooden fences and every tree bough.

At least forty miles down a road that runs straighter than a sewing pin we all stopped at a station for this or that. The owners were born in New Dehli and grew up in Yorkshire. I wish I could live in places so lovely and foreign. Although I doubt I would enjoy working at a fuel stop selling scratchcards and lotto tickets.

There was a party on Monday night for two of my friends. I strung crepe-paper streamers on the ceiling of my room and had two cakes with blue and white icing. I gave one a paper lantern in the shape of a star and the other a plush I sewed while watching a movie on a rainy night a few weeks ago.

I think tomorrow will be a good day for baking cupcakes with pink icing, and mending one of my skirts, and reading and sewing a new plush to sit on my dresser. Maybe I'll put on my rubber boots and play in puddles later in the afternoon.
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