a little place to call my own (art and fashion blog)

The street looks both foreign and familiar while I try to remember when it was that I last walked here. My legs feel tired and there is a voice in my head that screams for another cup of coffee. Wait for a moment, I might have thought and said to myself, if I had a habit of talking to myself like that which I don’t, so I obviously didn’t. If my thoughts verbalize themselves in this way, I usually don’t talk back to them because that would feel too much as a conversation. I just ignored the voice because I knew the coffee will have to wait until I get home. Not because I’m one of those people who are too shy to sit in a café and order an espresso by themselves but because at this moment I don’t feel like it. I walk past the open market, thinking about buying some cabbage for a second but I decide against it because the dish I have in mind takes about four hours to cook and I just don’t have the energy. Everything seems grey now that the sun is hiding in the clouds, but I don’t find the