My Boy, Boy Lilikoi

Elle woke up.
White white white white white white white white white white white white white white

and it was everywhere.

She had been dreading this moment all autumn long. The cold, the grey, the wet, the death, the loneliness... it had seemed far too much for her to hold inside her chest. But so much had changed this past week, a whirlwind of metamorphosis and she scarcely felt like the same person.

Mawkish, that is what it all sounded like when she wrote it down and counted it out but it was the truth nonetheless. Elle wouldn't have to hold it all, wouldn't have to swallow winter by herself this year. The ache inside from the bitter cold was melting from a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time.

Untitled 7 to Boy Lilikoi.














Jónsi