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(listen to this while you read)

I tend to romanticize nostalgia and dreariness a bit, but I do genuinely like wistfulness. I like warm but muted colors, dusty candlelight, husky voices, meandering poetry, open ended questions. I like how electric and gray the air was yesterday, before the rain-soaked leaves became too heavy for the gusts of wind plucking at coats and loose hair. I’ve been thinking about aesthetics, for some reason – probably in part because I have to pick classes for next term and for the first time ever I can take something that’s completely unrelated to brains, bio, or music, and I want to take advantage of the fact that I am at a liberal arts college and can all of a sudden be snooty about things like aesthetics.

In part also, I think, because I’ve had a major obsession with apartments and kitchens these days. Open rooms, bright sunlight puddling on worn wood floors, nothing too big, just me-sized, with glass bottles of spices and lentils like my mother has. I think it’s just a tangible picture for my restlessness to hold on to. I’m so excited to graduate and live in the real world a little more – college feels like an isolated bubble sometimes, a protected little fantasy place away from city life, without people under 18 or over 25, with standard issue furniture and no nails in the walls. Don’t get me wrong, I do love it, I love being close to incredible people and getting to study everything I’m passionate about – but I’m ready for a change.

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