Stationary stationery

So many things but where to begin?

Let me tell you about my addiction to stationery first - also because we went in to this amazingly attractive stationery store yesterday and I almost left my heart there (but not any money harhar) - and then I shall digress. I want everything from here

Heck, just buy me the whole store will you!

Tell me, how can I not love stationery?

I will tell you what I want just in case some Good Samaritan decides to get something for me ;)

*hyperventilates* !!!!!! *would add more exclamation mark but I will look stupid* moleskin notebooks, I've been raving over them for ages and ages and I found this shop somewhere in Bangsar, KL that sold them but there were well over the price I expected and they sell it cheaper here!

So dainty! But I have one at home so it's okay :) But I'm just showing you what pretty little things they have on that site of wonder

:D :D :D I'd love to use them in letters! I tried once to use a normal paperclip to mould it into a heart shaped clip but failed miserably :( It looked like an skewed dog-bite bone...

Gift cards! Although I'm sure some people make muchmuchmuch prettier cards than these :) but they're lovely all the same ;) ;)

Yeah and I ended up not getting anything at all from the store because I simply hadn't the heart to spend so much money on such deviously cute looking stationery :(

-

These phrases are foreign and new as I feel them around my tongue, finding their perfect spot for crisp clear sounds; tasting them, crude and raw. They etch their way around, so that I am tasting them perfectly. But with excessivesness. I can touch light and air so they find their way to entwine themselves around my fingers, some lights more intermittently than others; particles colliding to an excited state, emitting spectras of bronzes, sienna, umber, a certain copper, fuchsias and lilacs!, something complicated like heliotrope, soft lavenders and plenty more to live for.

Night and day,

I use them to decorate these subliminal states of dismayed reverie.

"In what happens between people, she reflected, there are these transmigrations, these episodes of smudged experience, in which the containers of memory and story become weak and permeable. Images leak like smoke. Emotions. Chance utterances. Rudimentary threads of being float outwards, and reattach. Fibres of some counterlife, that which make through others, join like the ganglia of an unlocatable, interstitial intelligence. We confederate. We are many. We carry others' stories." - Dreams of Speaking, Gail Jones