Seeing Bear in Heaven and Hooray for Earth tonight at Shubas in Chicago. My rooms and I felt without music and went on a mini ticket buying spree. Well worth it. CAN’T WAIT. #beatzjamzmusac
saturday night mayhem- obviously a couple pics of Figs and I taken in the bathroom?… no idea… and a chi girls group photo taken before even leaving the apt. then finally delicious truffle fries at lux bar on sunday afternoon. one of the best sundays yet in chicago- spent with lovely Figs, Whit and recovering b-day babe, Sarah. balcony nesting, ice tea drinking, nail painting, summer daydreaming and much needed/hilarious recapping. x.
— Coco Chanel
“What they don’t understand about birthdays and what they never tell you is that when you’re eleven, you’re also ten, and nine, and eight, and seven, and six, and five, and four, and three, and two and one. And when you wake up on your eleventh birthday you expect to feel eleven, but you don’t. You open your eyes and everything’s just like yesterday, only it’s today. And you are–underneath the year that make you eleven.
Like some days you might say something stupid, and that’s the part of you that’s still ten. Or maybe some days you might need to sit on your mama’s lap because you’re scared, and that’s the part of you that’s five. And maybe one day when you’re all grown up maybe you will need to cry like if you’re three, and that’s okay. That’s what I tell Mama when she’s sad and needs to cry. Maybe she’s feeling three.
Because the way you grow old is kind of like an onion or like the rings inside a tree trunk or like my little wooden dolls that fit one inside the other, each year inside the next one. That’s how being eleven years old is.”
— Sandra Cisneros (Woman Hollering Creek: And Other Stories)