She got older very quickly this year, and I think I wrote The Pembroke's Tomb from Shrines about how I imagined feeling now. I didn't realize how precise it would be.

Lila, I love you presently. Everywhere I look I see your beds, your toys—new holes where you used to be. I think maybe the hole inside myself that I feel now was always there, that you filled it by arriving instead of creating it by leaving. I will always love now with this heart that you improved.

I cannot fucking believe I had to willingly extinguish this light. I wish that I had know about the bomb ticking inside her—that I known to look so I could've done something ELSE when there was time. I would've carved off a piece of my body for another year. We thought we had at least another year.

Dogs are a mainline to love itself, straight into our veins. There's no baggage, there are no shadows—there are just big mahogany eyes, endless songs, the spirit of joy manifested in your house.

This is by far the most painful grief I've ever felt. Human loved ones understand death; they can be ready, they can tell you about it. They don't sleep between your legs, rely on you to walk outside, or entrust you with their lives by definition.

I know that it sucks to read this kind of post, and I know that I've only met a few of you in person, but writing about this love and connecting with others who know it helps me feel less alone, so thank you.

I'd wear it on the plane. The minute you step off in Philly, you'll be happy you have it. (I did this a million times while bi-coastal.)

Depends on the under-layers. Bomber jacket with hoodie is great right now.

love that grain

I seeee

Marco Pierre White's videos for BBC Maestro!

*swoons*

Pic 3 putting the pussy on a palanquin

My man 🙏