Not knowing when the dawn will come, I open every door. - E.Dickinson


And it could be that simple and that lovely. Mornings nestled into wicker chairs with tea and the sun sitting right on my shoulder. Afternoons slipped through one another's arms while our feet lead us into the unknown. I want our nights to be clandestine, never knowing what dinner will be until it enters our mouths.

And all our days will be soaked in words, congregating onto pages, collected into books. I want books to sit at the table with us when we eat dinner and books to wake up with and fall asleep with. I want books to mark out and remember every year of our life.

I want every day for the rest of my life to be in solid color. Grey is not good enough.