05/30/17, 10:37am, sitting on my bed in Beijing, in the middle of reading Calvino’s Invisible Cities

It has come to my attention that I have in the past devoted significant amounts of time towards gaining a single adjective attached to my being, like being well-read, or being carefree, or being obliviously attractive. I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not yet sure whether I should be ashamed of it.

Published by unknownandanonymous

A journal written for me, by me. Bonus points for me if other people like reading it.

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