The stars wash over me, so far away that I can barely breathe from where I lay
Never have I been so far from home, o’er the years I was cut from sand and rain
I’m calling through ebb and flow; I’m calling whichever way it goes
Desert rock and rosemary carry dry and bloodless on the breeze, make me new
Blow into my face again, blow between the bones that shake and knock me through and through
I was bummed to hear Blind Pilot is playing San Francisco the weekend I’ll be in LA for my sister’s bachelorette party. I want to see them so badly!
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Internship day 1. Ignore my i-just-moved-home-from-college messy room. (Taken with instagram)