This Very Sky

A clear blue sky
But at the edges, silently creeping onwards
Are tiny tendrils of cotton clouds
Threatening to conquer


I just read this book called “Beartown” by Fredrik Backman and even though I completely 100% loathed (I am aware that that was redundant) almost everything about it, it is one of the best books I have ever read. I’m definitely not going to go on to explain the book or anything and turn this…


I came across this word a few days ago, and I was curious. In all my life, I have never experienced this wistfulness, this vellichor. This seems a bit strange, because I love old books. Something about the way they’re so worn down yet delicate, how you feel like it’s an old friend that might break…