about the author

you can find me somewhere between the lines of my favourite books, lost in the vintage record section of any second-hand store, and tattooed on all the pages and strings and keys i have ever touched

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introduction

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she was made of broadway lyrics, movie marathons, and old book hoards—a whirlwind of inky fingers and summer freckles.  love:  -exploring different cultures -musicals -intelligent conversations -taking snapshots of ordinary things -creating stories from my imagination -deep souls -the story of icarus -art museums -van gogh gang -greek myths -filmmaking -poems - notebooks loath: -pessimists and close-minded people -the in-between of winter and spring -labels -cloudy night when you can’t see the stars -hotel showers infp | libra | ambivert | hipsta bookworm | canadian | poet these are my labels. these are what i try to disprove. these are what i am, and what i can’t stand to be. these make me stuck, make me shake a fist and say, “don’t put me in a box, i’m different.”  i’m autumn. ☾ ☾ ☾ if you were a doctor you could take a glance and determine facts about me. things like: brown hair mostly has her m...
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the garden

i lived my life an untamed garden. wild poppies blossomed next to tangled reeds. irrepressible carpets of moss crept their way along, never stopping their growth. i was alive, i was living.  but once in a while things would change. my garden wouldn’t die, exactly, it just stopped you could no longer recognize a purple iris underneath the grey canopy that covered it the trees were no longer stretching high with pride, but sunk lower to hide themselves time seemed to freeze - no blooming, no thriving, no life it was only for a short time, but those short times were frequent the garden became not only wild, but feral and sometimes i couldn’t control the brambles that wanted to push up next to my heart i wanted to go back to the way things were in the beginning, but that’s the things with  growth you can’t undo it but i could redo it i fought, i bled, and i toiled the brambles were pulled away and burnt, their thorns screaming to the sky as the fire...
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greek gods | what would they be? | a late-night thought

ares is nauseous. he wanders through the remains of a middle eastern elementary school and a city street brought to rubble by terrorists and feels sick. he’s stopped glorifying war a long time ago, this is not what fighting for your country should be like. no part of it is heroic or valiant or courageous. just senseless killing, so much senseless killing. he cradles a disfigured child in his arms and screams for it to stop. zeus is bored. justice isn’t existent anymore. his charisma is fading, his cat-calls are growing increasingly more brash. he’s desperate for something he can’t put a finger on. he’s useless, disregarded, alone. and he’s beginning to realize that he’s in the wrong. hera is angry. commitment has vanished, now she walks tall with her hands clenched in fists, confident in her own strength, ready to teach women about their own power. poseidon is sick of having to rinse out pollution and chemicals from his water. his charm is being replaced more and more by h...
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