Scratch on the moon like a familiar smile stained on my mind
I spent today with Rush-That-Speaks, Fox, Rafe, and Lucien. Outside of getting hit in the eye with a painted wooden egg hurled at speed and close range by a two-and-a-half-year-old testing the concept of limits and also processing some emotions, it was really nice. (I put ice on my eye. It doesn't seem to have bruised. I can see out of it. I would be cool with not getting hit in the eye by anything for a week or so, though.) We ordered dry fried beef from Zoe's with garlic spinach and scallion pancakes for dinner and Rush-That-Speaks showed me Oscar #Worldpeace's "No White God."
I don't know if I will see Lucien again. I petted him especially before I left; I took pictures of him with Rush and

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I hope you still have some left! The sole perfume I wear is also a BPAL limited edition, so I live vaguely in dread of what happens when it runs out.
I think the problem is that the scent of low tide is at least partly composed of dead fish and rotting seaweed, which probably turns off most perfume buyers, but it's so nostalgic and rich and singular to me that it's exactly what I want to wear.
I believe this is the reason we have the commiseratory phrase "hard same."