
July. Enigmatic, elusive, and hot. The month of cherry pits under young tongue and all the poetry of their cyanide, just begging to be written.

Some musings on life, change, and literature. Plus, the brick of a novel I’ve been lugging around nyc.
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.
Subscribe to give your inbox something to look forward to.