Elīna Sproģe > Recent Status Updates

“Laughter comes later, like wisdom teeth, and laughter at yourself comes last of all in a mad race with death, and sometimes it isn’t in time.”

“I’m crotchety. I feel sand under my skin. I’m looking forwards to the ugly smell of old books and the sweet smell of good thinking.”

Her fate is a mountain, and you, my son, haven’t even got a shovel yet.

It is after all so easy to shatter a story. To break a chain of thought. To ruin a fragment of a dream being carried around carefully like a piece of porcelain.

History's smell.
Like old roses on a breeze.
It would lurk forever in ordinary things. In coat-hangers.
Tomatoes. In the tar on roads. In certain colours. In the plates at a restaurant. In the absence of words. And the emptiness in eyes.

Annoyed and captivated by Natalie. Also fighting the urge to visualize her and Caleb as Hannah and Daniel from Ballerina Farm.