I arrived last night to this clean, semi-unpacked apartment in Callicoon NY, welcomed with a pot of beet soup and and a half finished bottle of cheap wine. I ate my meal under dim lights. A freight train drove by in the middle of the night. My mother snored in her bedroom, while I stayed up half the night. The world went on and nothing really changed.
“Let’s stop acting like women who choose to be feminine are somehow colluders,...– Lemonayde’s Picnic (via tumblinfeminist)