in which I am subsumed by art

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My friend Farrin has nearly finished the piece I modeled for (earlier draft with orientation here). Incredible, delicate intricacy in ink and watercolor. Wreathing the edge is the phrase I believe in dreams repeated in many languages. Bordered by vines and flowers and firebirds,  flanked by sphinxes and I myself a kind of hybrid womansphinx. A hybrid of a hybrid. A meta-hybrid. Love. How ideal are the proportions of these wings?

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things I love, vol. i

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In no particular order

1. free shipping

2. peanut butter

3. Anna Karenina

4. lip balm

5. leisurely grooming

6. raw almonds

7. when the price tag is not the sticky-residue-leaving kind

8. parsley

9. being ignored in the comfortable, pleasant way that indicates an utter lack of social obligation

10. floppy sun hats

11. being given just the right things

12. giving people just the right things

13. the cello, though I can’t play

14. stairs that are just the right depth and height for my stride

15. peonies

16. wine, more and more

17. the number 17

18. when I drop something and catch it before it hits the ground, and other indications that I would have made a respectable ninja