carew

c

carew

in her spare time she wrote musicals, ate peas in nutella, and had a difficult time explaining her idea of time travel. she knew exactly how to do it though. she thought her hair was gray, but everyone said it was blond. gray was more romantic, though. in her mind, she was three years old, tutu and pointed feet in front of the mirror, being not perfect enough. she had problems with spelling, math, and conversations, but damn was she good in bed. or at least, so i heard. she told me once it was a distraction, because she didn't have enough money to go pearl-diving for answers. another time, she said dreams smell like cinna