kameelahwrites wrote: Right now, all I want is a landline phone, a box of postage stamps, a large garden, and a rocking chair.  And I want to peel clementines slowly, dig in the dirt to find earthworms, have boisterous conversations about Ida B. Wells, and burn mango butter incense. And I want to dance to Nina Simone and cook black eyed peas with kale. And when all of this is done, I want to fall asleep in a large bed that smells like sandalwood and grapefruit. 

ahnka said: may i visit you at this place? i’d bring you a fistful of blooms from my garden, a book of collage work from some unknown artist i met in my travels, and some sun-brewed tea.


I wish this place existed. Instead of wishing for it to exist, I need to create it. Fly out of this city once a month to see what life is like beyond cement and crowded streets. Build something. This conversation is why I am so drawn to science fiction — imagining new worlds, abandoning unfit ones, rebuilding broken ones. What does it look like when we decide that this isn’t good enough and start building something magical.