Right now, I want to live in a house made out of plants, a house made out of glass, or a house made out of glass and filled with plants. Ladybugs and fireflies would flit around, the air would be cool and moist, and I’d wear countless pale pink tshirt dresses and my favorite blue kimono, along with pretty socks of all varieties, all of them different shades of grey.
My own private greenhouse. Speakers would be hidden in the plants so I could listen to telafon tel aviv constantly, and Debussy or Chopin when I got bored. A select few other songs would be allowed, but it’d be a very carefully edited playlist. My hair would be short, but not too short. The humidity would make it poufy and curly, and I’d laugh upon seeing my reflection in the glass of the walls, at the beauty mark created on my face by a ladybug resting. I could scream whenever I wanted to. There would be windows I could open, even though everything would be made of glass. It would rain a lot, but it would also be sunny a lot. I would never have the desire to leave. People would visit me when I wanted them to. I’d see curly hair every once in awhile. Those would be the good days. Sometimes glasses would come for a day or two and we would lie on the floor and make art and take pictures. I don’t know if anyone else would come, but maybe tshirt and maybe paper skirt. I don’t know what to think about paper skirt. Well, I can think a lot, but I don’t know how to feel about her. Would I need anyone else? I’d like to see long hair and short hair and I don’t even know them. All I want to do with everyone else is say hello every so often. They don’t need to stay, it would make me feel lonely. Oh, and there would be clotheslines. I love clotheslines. I’d hand wash all my clothes in a metal bathtub. My toothbrush would be white porcelain. Everything white porcelain, plants, metal, and glass.