portland plumage


I’m no pansy but I like walking down avenues canopied with cherry blossoms. It’s nice when the gutters are choked with petals—instead of dirty snow, instead of wet newspaper, instead brown wet leaf muck. You’d have to be a real hard-ass to not enjoy this. It’s weird because when something’s gone haywire in your life, when you miss someone, when you’re not sure what to do from here, when there’s a thought you know you shouldn’t think but your brain keeps coming back around to it again and again like a black lab to a table of donuts no matter how many times you yell, “No!”, well, you can finally just fucking relax for second and walk down the street to feel transformed.



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