White. Black. Crimson. Black.

Crimson. Velvet. Crushed. Snow. Feathers. Drops of blood. Raven. Frosty eyelashes. A biting cold. Blushing cheeks. Black eyes. Footstep. A lavender ribbon. Flowing in the wind. Gemstones glistening.

The sun is setting. A vision of white. A silhouette marred by the sharp black lines of trees. Stretching up to the sky. Reaching. Looming. Silence is interrupted by the sound of feet hitting the ground. Running. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The frosty white, glistening like a gemstone, but giving away like cotton. A blurry vision of velvet in crimson. A girl moving. Her panting echoes through the woods. She stops, turning her black eyes towards the sky. Her cheeks are rose-stained, eyelashes stiff with frost, and the cold is biting. But she doesn’t care. Drip. Drip. Drip. A small pool of red gathers beneath her. The crimson smears forming a trace. She looks at the path, red staining white, and gives a deep sigh. The whole forest shakes with her release of breath, and everything settles. Silence once more. A flash through her eyes. A fleeting moment of clarity. The girl holds up her hand and examines the ribbon hanging from between her fingers. Immaculate satin. The girl starts running once again, with the white flowing behind her. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. A flapping of wings can be heard from a distance. The girl quickens her pace, ignoring the numbing sensation on her face. A velvet dress, the eyes of a lost girl, and a satin ribbon can be seen, moving in a blur. Crimson. Black. White. In a remote, but not all too remote, distance – a feather hits the ground. The black feather of a raven lands on top of the pool of blood. A raven’s feather, a lost girl’s blood, and the snow. Black. Crimson. White.

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So random.

My days have consisted of twitter, studying, twitter, White Lies, Kings of Leon, SXSW and even more twitter. Seriously, I’m hooked. And now I can fawn over Jared Followill on a more personal level. No, I’m kidding. Partially. Honestly though, SXSW – I’m so bummed I can’t go. I get that it’s virtually impossible for me to go, considering we’re literally an ocean apart, but I can’t help but fantasize about packing my backpack, buying a last-minute ticket and just go. Screw everything. Yeah, I’ll just keep dreaming. This has been one of the least substantial posts I’ve ever written, kudos to me. Here’s a pretty picture to compensate for my lack of interesting things to say.

Love & swallows