Living is happening. Routine yet to be established. Toast digestion is high, similar to education days in the capital, a habit I don't intend on keeping. Festivities have been and gone, while the little black box of beauty finds itself a new home like me. Drying garms currently falls under the category of trial and error until one masters the evaporation of H2O. Frogs and stripes are on the horizon, with butterflies making a timely appearance. Only now thought of snails though.
