scribeherself
scribeherself
There is something so incredibly tender about walking through a bookstore or a museum and stopping in a section you usually breeze past, just because the person you love loves it. Suddenly, a specific genre of sci-fi or a niche era of art history isn't just "a thing"—it’s a map of their mind. You’re standing there looking at a shelf, thinking, oh, they would lose their mind over this. Your brain permanently reserves a little room for their joy, and I think that’s so beautiful.
