May 27, 2021
I created this for myself.
Years of curating goods & vintage finds. Hand-me-downs & dusty antiques, once lived through those that owned them before they became my very own. My space. A place where my soul ignites, and lingers. Dressed in black & crimson. Held up by silver & wood. My sanctuary. Filled with life & death, birth & decay. Twisted vines & roots, that of which resemble my very own. A shelf full of books that embody my very being... a conversation that will never meet its end. Dusty records, dirty mirrors. Walls dripping in art & photographs. My home, no matter where I reside. No matter who intrudes or blesses its path. A wooden box full of items, stored away, fulfilling a particular purpose, or a purpose awaiting to be fulfilled. Hidden away, or put on display - my deepest and most divine pleasures & desires.
My space. My sanctuary. My home. What feels like genuine victory - mine.
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