Rosalia

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midnights is so wonderfully dreamy and melancholic... it might dethrone red from its decade-long reign as my favourite taylor album 💜🌛💙

my catsitter said of mukie ‘he was very polite’ and everyone who’s as tragically online as i am knows exactly what image floated into my mind.

jetlag report: • woke up at noon • spent a minute working out what part of north america i was in • remembered it was my house • went on a walk to get groceries, caught in icy rain • scurried home to live off pumpkin scones brought from new england and possibly get scurvy.

driving in america is equal parts easier and more nerve-wracking. why are we allowed to turn right at red lights

wine and a good book really helps a seven-hour plane trip fly, so to speak

🌈 winning at pride (group rhapsodising about anne of green gables, followed by tipsily stumbling into the istanbul market to fill up boxes of baklava)

while my partner is in armagh with covid, I’m doing everything I know how to help him get well: sending sleepytime tea and memes.

my favourite escapism activity is watching movies about wealthy boomer problems while reading their letterboxd reviews

had a fun two days of running (and sailing) around amsterdam dressed up as witches

my worst ‘I know I’m courting disaster but I’ll keep doing it’ habit is when I’m sewing on my bed, instead of finding a pincushion I will stick the tiny, nigh-invisible needle into the quilt.

group chat? mute that

everyone in strangford is so incredibly posh. I have never seen so many poodles in my life.

bird man returns: he was at the table next to us in the lamppost cafe, this time with the bird (a parrot) on his shoulder. every so often it would randomly scream and everyone would jump and spill their coffee.

it’s election season, also known as the month in which I don’t answer the door even if I’m expecting someone. can’t risk it.

clearest memory of the other night is four of us walking home with a dog at 2am, many french martinis deep, shaking cherry blossoms onto each other