Random

I'm drawn to the past. Photographs and memories take me back to a place, that probably wasn't as amazing as I remember, but I'm okay with that.

I'm drawn to the imperfect. Nothing is perfect, and I love what doesn't pretend to be.

I applaud effort...even just the slightest, tangible sign of effort.

I'm intrigued by our insecurities; they're fascinating, and we all have them, but we hide them the best we can. No one is any the wiser.