sitting here on my faux fur throw organising my eclectic, inherited, mostly vintage jewellery, draped in my silky crimson and black and gold shawl, sipping a smooth yet spicy red wine blend, wearing black fleece lined ribbed leggings, v-neck rose-gold velvet tank top [no bra, heckin’ ye ss], delicate gold necklace with red rose pendant, gold bangles, my great grand-mum’s baby bracelet made into rings, faux fur masha morevna-esque [bit bolshevik] hat, aubergine lipstick [and matching tinted toeses] listening to the anna karenina score by dario marianelli, just coming down from a stem ginger caramel dark chocolate high, after finally reading rupi kaur’s magnifique ‘milk and honey,’ and rereading the ever-magnifique wisława, because i’m just.... feeling it. all of it. the necessity of it. Right. Now. my presence... every sense my senses can voraciously lap up. my worthiness; of this mini-extravagance, sans pretense, taking joy from the little things in life - no matter how trite that phrase may sound to deafened ears... it. is. everything. and nothing. in a moment. and it is délicieuse. i deserve this. also... The Look... is just, ahhhh... marvellieux... yeah... à votre santé, my darling lovelies.