For some reason i keep imagining this: sunlight is peeping through large trees at 4pm. i am alone, and waiting for someone who isn't coming. i am walking barefoot on wet gravel. i am in a skirt. nearby is a small table. Upon it is a pot of tea--or coffee-- that i have yet to finish, and beside it is a beautifully crafted notebook with, as usual, all my unfinished work bound to be thrown away at the end of the day. and somehow i wish the sun remained that way all day, wouldn't go down, wouldn't go up. and it wouldn't. someone like Alice could come by, and i could invite her over for tea, but i'm not the mad hatter so i will not hold her there with me.
