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Journal

A tiny little corner of the internet for my personal playlists, poetry, and plenty of nostalgia.

Sunday in Marcy Holmes

Bellingham

Sunday in Marcy Holmes

The other day, the smell of fresh smoke from a distant pile of burning leaves danced with a gust of wind and met my lips, the pungent taste of autumn’s past lingering a while, until I'm transported to 19 years old on 8th Street, standing on a bed of soft orange and brown reminders that this feeling won’t last long.

Rachel Hauser