why italian. i dunno. this ain't italy, but something in the warm, greedy sun got me thinking so. you can smell the spring. i spent ridiculously much time reading and enjoying my morning coffee. have a feeling it's gonna be one of those days made of entirely too much coffee and sneaky long cat-like stretching in the sun. first yoga in the sun of 2026. sneakily bashful, outrageous to the neighbors.
eating grapes.
i wanted to write about how presentation matters, how you can sell for higher if it looks a certain way. clothes, but people, also. only i don't really squeeze into it or find myself. the older i get, the less i try to look a certain way. which isn't saying i don't look nice or dress well. it's more wearing things that resonate with me.
i got this lipstick i love called black honey. tongue in cheek, i know. like the way it sits on my lips and makes me look like i got things to say. i heard someone say it's a good lipstick to look more sensual, but that was after i already bought it. i thought, but isn't that defeating the purpose, sort of?
i'm sitting here sans lipstick, in my faded, skimpy jumpsuit, looking like it's summer. eating my grapes. do i look sensual without my black honey, or is it more a case of honey in my soul. i am more and more convinced the way women dress thinking they're attractive and how they're actually attractive are two wildly different things.
what's attractive to you, and would it even look good on me?
i've been thinking a lot about my relationship with men. the sexuality and aggressiveness they all carry, the appeal. and is that how they'll always be? it seems always, i've had this link with the darkness, the shadow inside men. how foreign. how intoxicating. but dull in a sense, too.
i realize men i know, it's now women i wish to be attractive to. a girl sat next to me on the tram the other day, the shared looking, the recognition of kin more intoxicating than the familiar way men look at me.
all this, things i think about on this terrace, in my freedom, in the sun. eating grapes. it's a slow day, but sometimes being a woman implies such days. as does thinking about the way we interact, look at one another, kiss, breathe.
a lazy italian morning. a borrowed day in the sun.
