by kimberley veart.
Let's
swim in our underwear, in the middle of winter. Drink wine from mugs in the
afternoon.
Let's
roll down the car windows and sing. Dance like we're drunk
when we aren't, and have long conversations with interesting strangers. Take
pictures and pull faces, not just smile sedately.
When
we're apart we can send postcards in the mail, so that we have more than bills in the letter box. We'll greet each other with all the excitement of friends reunited after several years, even if it
was only last Tuesday.
Let's
meet up again in faraway places; take off with empty suitcases and no maps. Make
friends in small towns that we'll never remember the names of and then slip
away into the night.
When it rains, we’ll throw away our umbrellas. We’ll walk and get soaked right through, all curling hair and water-filled shoes. We can laugh at commuters hurrying and tripping through puddles while we bust out our best Singing in the Rain rendition and make up our own musical.
When it rains, we’ll throw away our umbrellas. We’ll walk and get soaked right through, all curling hair and water-filled shoes. We can laugh at commuters hurrying and tripping through puddles while we bust out our best Singing in the Rain rendition and make up our own musical.
Let's
stay up all night, and sleep in all morning. Have cake for lunch and pancakes
for dinner. Light candles. Star gaze. Get lost in imaginative ramblings. Fall
asleep talking.
related posts.
kisses and cake by kimberley veart
coup de foudre by hayley stockall
related posts.
kisses and cake by kimberley veart
coup de foudre by hayley stockall
