Ah, the allure of a train wreck.
I know I won't like what I see, but I creep up to the scene as close as I can get.
At the end of the day, I return to see what remains. Over time, the damage is covered, the tracks rebuilt. The scars never disappear; these wounds draw me near again and again.
I've walked away whole, alive, but everything's changed. Some trains I still board. Others I view from afar and wonder what went so wrong. But still I return to look.
name: sabine location: boston by way of the sicmon islands
a few things you didn't need to know: i'm the kind of girl who walks into a restaurant, kicks off my shoes, sits with my feet up on the chair, and eats salad with my fingers. and i feel perfectly comfortable with this. basically, i'm inappropriate. i'm a renaissance woman. i'm a misanthrope. i'm compulsively honest. i try to live in the moment. and i'd like to think my antics bring joy and laughter to the world. or at least the few people in on the joke.
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