
The dead speak, she writes. We have just forgotten how to listen.

I watched as it tipped over, as it rolled, as the syrupy orange liquid created geometric patterns across the train floor.

Some journal scraps, poetic remembrances, book recommendations, and thoughts on love.
Spinning Visions was created as an ode to love, art, and other messy things that make my head spin. It is a space for documenting experience and exploring thought. It is also the thing that makes me lose all sense of time and place. You can click here to learn more.
It should also be noted that I probably shouldn’t be telling you half of what is on here, but that I don’t really know how not to.
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