His hair is always tousled after a nap. Little sweaty ringlets curling at the nape of his neck, cheeks flushed and warm. He nuzzles into my neck and grips on to me as tightly as he can, grumbling happily as he shakes off the drowsiness.
Not so long ago I fell out of love with Instagram in a big way, and I couldn’t work out why. Here are some of the rules I broke to reignite my love of the ‘gram
October always feels very primal and pagan to me, a time to gather your people close by the fire. Here’s how I like to enjoy the darker months.
The story of a pink dress, the postpartum body that it would never fit, and a new sense of love and acceptance for being larger and softer than before. Because my body is amazing and it deserves a dress that fits
Since I was little I’ve collected long words. I love their sounds and shapes and meanings. My first beloved was vermillion, the vivid scarlet pigment, and aged nine I used it all the time. At school I was the language-geek who quizzed my teachers about language.
He’s finally drifting off to sleep. Tummy full of milk, busy little hands fidgeting into stillness. Sleepy mumbles that sound almost like waking.