. . . at this time of year, it feels as if every day should be spent lounging about in pools of sunlight, flipping through old novels with all the time in the world, and yet, in actuality, have been trying to find even a few moments here . . .
. . . shall always adore white, light-flooded rooms for the understated beauty and feeling of serenity they invoke, but truth be told, am a maximalist at heart, bits of boarding passes and foreign currency tucked away in pretty boxes, every issue of every magazine overflowing from shelves and coffee tables . . .