WHOLEHEARTED.

hunter torres-jeong. 34. they/she. tattooist & owner of magic ink.

[hvntertj]

masonburke​:

A warm smile overtook Mason’s face as he watched Hunter lavish Emerson with attention—hardly an unfamiliar sight, but always a welcome one. As friendly as the dog was, he was fairly sure that Hunter was one of his favorite humans, either from constant exposure or from the endlessly indulgent petting. “We were just going on a long morning walk to get this guy’s energy down a bit, and he managed to drag me down into town,” Mason replied, nodding to their general surroundings. 

Then he quirked a brow, giving Hunter an amused look. “Never thought I’d run into you in front of Bluebird, though. I thought you didn’t like reading much?” He didn’t think that had changed since Hunter was a kid—or, at least, they hadn’t mentioned it if it had. He remembered very well what a struggle it had been to get them through their English homework, how he’d helped them read aloud and thought up up all sorts of games to make the dry work more dynamic for them. It had been fun for both of them. 

Not that he would admit it to anyone but Hunter, but they had definitely been his favorite kid to babysit.

“Mm. Smart boy! Did you drag your dad’s hermit ass out to where actual humans live? Did you? You did, didn't you?" Although they're addressing Emerson once more, their tone that of high-pitched baby talk, it's evident that Hunter is simply being a little shit this time. Still, their own sense of humor doesn't particularly align with snarky, sass-filled teasing. Finding laughter in making people feel bad about themselves doesn’t quite sit well with them, even if it’s done as a harmless joke ― though the occasional smartass remarks will sneak past their lips. (They can’t help it!) So Hunter’s mischievous smirk morphs into a more genuine one, knowing Mason’s preference for peace and quiet, putting a safe distance between himself and the town’s gossip mill. 

“I don’t. Reading is for nerds,” they quip back in a sing-songy voice, clearly joking, before stepping aside for him to take a gander at the collection of titles on sale. He’s the one who has always been an avid reader, as long as they can remember. (Their own memories of Mason become clearer starting from their middle school years; anytime before that is a bit fuzzy, as childhood memories often are, aided by home video tapes and old photographs.)

“I was thinkin’ of getting ice cream or a smoothie or something before opening up, then I got distracted.” Their shoulders move in a shrug, hands stuck inside the pockets of their cargo shorts. “Ooh! Wanna come with? No, don’t answer that, ‘cause I know you do, bro."

[hvntertj]

halcycrain​:

As soon as the pup was back in their company, Haley took the stick from her and tossed it again. At this rate, with their daily lengthy walks, her right arm would most likely be way more buff than her left. When Haley was still on the research team, Bowie spent most of her days on the boat with her. And while it was spacey, it was nothing compared to the beauty of North Creek. So Haley tried to make up for the lost time and let the dog roam around as freely as she possibly could.

“Of course I did! I’m so proud to even be in your presence, I need to show you off to anyone who would listen!” Even though her words were shaking with laughter, they couldn’t be more true. Whenever Haley looked at them, it was like a pang of gratefulness that Hunter was still in her life. However, the affection in her eyes was replaced with mischief when she felt a soft punch to her arm. “Hey!” Pouncing forward, she gently jabbed them in the ribs in return before laughing again. “Anything for you. Plus, in my humble opinion, you are the best that’s out there. And not just at tattooing but, you know, in general.” Haley winked with a content smile before she sighed at the mention of her home.

“It’s moving ahead. The flooring is pretty much done. I painted the kitchen and dining room last Monday so now I need to hook up everything. The new fridge came yesterday but it’s so heavy, I need to call Harvey and hope he doesn’t break his back when he helps me. But yeah, no more boxes to sit on. We upgraded to the kitchen counter which means I can soon cook something for you and we can lie on the floor of my very empty living room.”

Hunter lets out a prolonged aww, twisting and turning their torso to evade the oncoming friendly attack to their ribs to no avail. It is an odd sight, a pair of thirtysomething adults incessantly teasing each other like teenagers. Though that’s exactly the thing about hanging out with longtime friends; it transports you back in time. So Hunter's dimpled smile only stretches wider, as carefree as it used to be twenty years ago — which, admittedly, is not that much of a dramatic difference in attitude from their current one. But they have grown and learned to look out for their own heart instead of offering all that they are to the world, palms open with a kind of unapologetic vulnerability. For their own sake, they try. (They don't always succeed.)

Haley's cheeky wink is swiftly followed by a cliché two-fingered salute from her raven-haired friend. "Uhm, excuse me, because ditto. Love you." Their eyebrows lift up, impressed at the progress. "Yo, you should've called me for help or something! You know I have Mondays off."

"Sounds dreamy. I'll bring the wine," they announce, one distracted gaze glancing at Bowie jogging towards them with the stick. They pick it up, doing the jerky back-and-forth dance as they pretend to throw it to tease him, cackling when the dog grows impatient. Eventually, the stick flies off from their hand, and the giant ball of fluff sprints off to chase it once again, Hunter's laugh trailing behind him. "Speaking of lying on floors," they snort, turning back to their friend. "Remember that one time we went to Johnny Summers' party in senior year?" It was a typical messy occasion with cheap alcohol and adolescent hormones, where they had unwittingly ingested one too many pot brownies, spending the next two hours sprawled on the bedroom of the kid’s out-of-town parents. (It had been a long-overdue bonding moment of sorts, the two of them managing to find comfort in their friendship again after years of distance.)

[hvntertj]

HEADCANONS

Growing up in the late 90′s through early 2000′s, Hunter went with she/her pronouns and presented as a ~girl~, though they always felt like they never really belonged with the rest of the girls. But neither did they feel like they were a boy. They chalked it up to them having different interests, or them being a “tomboy” and not entirely fitting in with either groups. It was not until they entered their twenties that they discovered the existence of a spectrum of gender identities, gradually acquiring the vocabulary to articulate and make sense of their experience with gender. They began identifying as non-binary and came out to their parents in their mid-twenties. (It happened via a FaceTime call, prior to their return to Northcreek. There was some initial confusion, but eventually, their parents came to an understanding.)

TJ is a nickname originating from their hyphenated last name, Torres-Jeong. It’s a middle school thing that stuck with them up until high school graduation. People who know them from those years may still call them TJ. Or Hunter. They don’t mind either way! 

Hunter does blackwork tattoos, only using black ink without color. They’ve done letterings, animals, plants and flowers, geometric shapes, random anime characters, what have you — but they stay away from designs that border on cultural appropriation, such as tribal/indigenous tattoos and irezumi.

Their right arm has a full sleeve tattoo from shoulder blade to the top of their hand; the left arm is adorned in random designs of different styles, except stopping midway down their forearm.

i am too lazy to list every single tattoo they’ve got bc lbr they have A TON but please note they have this above their left elbow

They have gradually grown apart from their mom since the divorce. Last time they visited her in person was when they were nineteen. She was still in Calgary back then, but they don’t really know what she’s up to these days. There used to be an annual exchange of text messages happening on their birthday or Christmas, but even that’s become spotty over the years. Hunter is kind of resigned about it. They’re much closer to their stepmother, Andrea.

[sbrown82]

Smells like Black Girl Magic!!! 💁🏾‍♀️👑🤘🏾✨🥁

[halcycrain]

date: July 18th, 2020 location: Northern River alongside: Hunter Torres-Jeong @hvntertj​

The late afternoon sun was peaking through the trees, casting gentle shadows on the rushing river. Haley had just tossed a rather large stick back into the water and with a splash, Bowie was already diving for it. What was usually a rather voluminous ball of fur, looked more like a barking mop now and the wagging tail was all the indication that somewhere underneath it all was still a dog. 

Haley had her sunglasses set at the top of her head which pushed her hair behind her ears, her step was relaxed as she caught back up with Hunter who was her plans for the afternoon - a fact she was wholeheartedly excited about. “She’s going to reek of wet dog for the rest of the day now.” Her tone was amused as she picked up a leaf of off the ground and started to peal at it, turning to look at Hunter when she talked to them. “Where was I?” Squinting lightly, she rewinded their conversation before her face lit up again.

“Oh right! The butt cheek tattoo. So Mark, drunk beyond any sense, pulls down his pants and shows me his spanking new tattoo of -” Stopping herself, she laughed, gesticulating with her hands while talking. “I probably shouldn’t say spanking in this context but you get me. So it’s an achor, yeah? A damn anchor on his ass. He says it’s because he’s a sailor. I’ve been working with him on a damn boat for eight months and he’s spewing this non-sense at me. So long story short, if a middle-aged guy named Mark from Vancouver calls and wants a cover up for an Achnor? Well -” Her eyebrows shot up into a mischievious grin, amuseument very clearly on her face as she kept on teasing her friend.”Yeah. You’re damn right I did. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

[hvntertj]

They let out a delighted laugh when Bowie returns with the stick clutched in her mouth, yelping as the dog begins to shake off the water, droplets flying everywhere and nearly drenching them. Though they're a fan of the outdoors in general, the river has always been one of their favorite spots, something about the sight of water attracting their fascination. Especially with the current company of their childhood best friend, they could not have wished for a better way to spend a summer afternoon.

Haley resumes her story, and Hunter of course responds with a ridiculous wiggle of their eyebrows at the mention of spanking.

“Oh my God, you did not fucking tell him you had a tattooist friend. Dude!” Hunter laughs despite all this―after all, they kind of do enjoy a horrible tattoo story―and lands a light punch on their friend’s arm, a gesture that has firmly remained in their interactions ever since they were little kids running around in the neighborhood side by side. "Look at you ropin' in all these new customers for me, though! Business? Booming. Love to see it." (They add a little make-it-rain gesture, nodding to the rhythm of an imaginary club banger.) “But, hey, speaking of what’s booming ―- how’s the renovation coming along? Did you finally stop using one of your boxes as a coffee table?”

[lovestereo]

Visit Original Link

[claudia-kishi]

Thinking with my mind… I don’t do that a lot.

[masonburke]

open!

It was a chilly morning for spring, but that was far from unusual. 

Mason took a deep breath of fresh mountain air as he made his way down the street, dog in tow. Can’t get that in Vancouver. Emerson was very happy about the whole thing, never one to complain about a long walk. They’d spent the past hour meandering along, the big Bernese having the time of his life while Mason indulgently exclaimed over any impressively big sticks his dog picked up and apologized to anyone cornered for pets. With his nearest house-call a few hours away and one of North Creek High School’s finest overseeing the shop, the two of them were free to wander for a while yet. It was Mason’s favorite part of weekends.

Of course, Mason and Emerson didn’t agree on everything. Case in point: the happy bark! that echoed when they ran into yet another one of North Creek’s residents, the sight of the person making Emerson’s tail wag so hard that half his body swayed as he strained towards them. That marked the fifth time Emerson had gotten excited over running into someone on that walk alone. Unlike Mason, Emerson loved the chance to cozy up to someone. 

(Mason still hadn’t forgiven him for giving Ethyl Hogarth a chance to talk to him at length about how ‘a handsome young man like you should really be looking to settle down’ twenty minutes ago.)

“Hey, hey, c’mon Em,” Mason muttered, keeping a solid hold on the dog’s leash and leaning over to pat his neck. “Sorry about that,” he said, flashing an apologetic smile. “He always wants to say hi when he sees a friendly face.” 

[hvntertj]

It's one of those rare days when Hunter's eyes flicker open earlier than usual. Being one of those mysterious creatures called morning persons, they do not particularly mind being up this early, the dry morning air pleasantly chill against their skin as they pop into the kitchen for some cereal. The studio is opening up at noon like always—it stays open throughout the weekend, closing on Mondays and Tuesdays—and they've got a few hours to spare.

So they walk into the town center (a two-minute journey, one-and-a-half with their fast pace), wrapped up in a jean jacket against the cold, although it will be ditched once afternoon rolls around and the July sunlight hits. North Creek has its summer heat moments — or what qualifies as heat in this town nestled up between mountains, anyway. They stop in front of Bluebird Books, with that typical impulsive curiosity in their gaze, picking up a random paperback from their crate full of books on sale at the entrance. Reading for pleasure has never stuck with them as a hobby, mostly due to their short attention span as a teen and them never really giving it another go since then —- still, they flip through the copy because they enjoy the mere motion of it, the gentle rustle of paper tickling their ears.

Interrupted by the sound of a dog barking, they drop the book back into the box, spinning on their heel to look. "Emerson!” they exclaim in delight, cooing at the giant fluff ball of a dog, quickly striding over to one of their favorite human-animal pairs in all of North Creek. They reach down to scratch him behind his ears with both hands, complete with who's a good boy? and the whole nine yards. "Dude, it's cool. You know you never ever need to apologize for Em! Not to me, at least." Straightening up, Hunter matches Mason's smile with their own, albeit less apologetic and more cheerful. "Anyway! Morning. What'cha up to, old man?"

[rothbabin-deactivated20210821]

LOCATION: Foam and Beans STATUS: Open to anyone!

Sleeping was something that Florence took seriously — after all, if she had a bad nights rest, she might just miss a detail that could be crucial to helping someone — but she could not sleep in, not even on her day off. So, after allowing herself a lazy early morning, the nurse headed to go get some coffee that wasn’t made by her or by the old coffee machine Dr. Campbell had. Surprise, surprise, when she got there on a Saturday morning, the tables weren’t as empty as during the week. And so, after getting her order — a nice lactose-free latte and a cupcake — Florence headed towards one of the few tables that only had one person sitting. “I can’t remember the last time I saw Foam and Beans this packed,” she began, looking at the other person and already feeling bad she had to ask what she was about to, “I hate to ask, but do you mind if I keep you company? The other tables are too full.”

[hvntertj]

Hunter adores Foam and Beans as much as the next Northcreek resident, but coffee tends to fuck up their sleep schedule, making them restless ― which is why they decide to grab an iced black tea, along with a sandwich for late breakfast. They’re lucky enough to snag themself an empty table amidst the hoard of coffee-loving customers. Raven hair pulled back in a ponytail, they take a bite of their sandwich, tapping away on their phone with the free hand. There. Posted. The newest addition to their tattoo studio’s Instagram grid, featuring a geometric flower design. (Frankly, running the account is taking up more time and effort than they imagined. They’re not sure how to deal with it.)

Their head whips up from the screen upon hearing a familiar voice ―- it’s Florence.

“Hi, neighbor,” they chirp at her, smiling wide and eager. “Oh, not at all! Come sit!” Hunter shuffles around their glass of iced tea to make room, gently toeing the empty chair across from them in an attempt to pull it out for her. “Breakfast?” they ask between bites, nodding at Florence’s cupcake.

[gisela-giles-deactivated2020072]

WHEN: Friday / 2020, July 17th 

WHERE: Magic Ink 

WHO: Hunter Torres-Jeong 

          It was a bright and balmy morning in the midst of the month as Ella, with weary regard — the result of staying up until two, the night before, rather morning, cleaning out the basement. One would not be able to tell that the previous tenant, a UBC graduate student that was working on his thesis or smoking since when she had first arrived, the entire house wreaked of weed, had even been there, if it wasn’t for local murmur and the leftover joint with the words “you’re welcome,” scribbled on a Post-It note; then, the semi-stilted structure was a safe haven for writers, as her old mentor used to rent it out to writers, whether they wanted to escape the hustle and bustle of Vancouver or stay for the year. But, now, it was all but forgotten since the death of its owner — situated in the back part of the forest, covered in honeyed foliage, a three-bedroom (a little smaller than Ella was used to and since she had spent the first few months she was in the town, acclimating her five-year-old daughter and forgoing any (re)decorating), she had since converted one of the rooms into her daughter’s dream room, filled with her favourite colour, purple and the other into a makeshift office, since the old cannery that lodged the magazine, the Stout Trout, that she had also inherited, was a bigger task to tackle. Now, it was July and the summer months were coming to an end, though the sweet scent of cherry chapstick and campfires coasted in the affable atmosphere, and it had been eleven months since the woman had arrived, in a flurry of activity, leaving behind a life in London and trading it in for the sound of loons singing on the lake as soon as she awoke. 

          Deciding to drive into town for some supplies, Ella parked in the town square, the sound of her Yves Saint Laurent against the pavement — impractical, yes and sure, it made her stand out like a sore thumb (if her hair didn’t already do that), but she was not going to wear tennis shoes, besides, the heels gave her an extra four inches which strengthened her statue. Meandering down the main street, blue hues scanning the storefronts that made up the town square, the woman stopped in front of a tattoo parlour — the last time she had been in one was in a dodgy area of Oxford where she was met with the screams of patrons and the scent of vodka, to sterilise and numb the pain. The inundant downpour that occurred, only moments before she had decided to step into the shop was unexpected, but she had been so tired, she did not check the weather app on her phone. She was only in the rain, if only for a moment, usually, she enjoyed the rain, but this was tepid and summery as she stepped under the awning, checking her shoes. A flurry of orange (was it Van Gogh who said orange was the colour of madness), could be seen as she stepped into the interior, a chic room, looking around for any sign of life. She had been there once before, but hadn’t given it a second thought seeing as how she was not sure there was something she enjoyed enough to get permanently embroidered with. But she had (sort of) befriended the owner, though befriended was an able word, considering she could count the number of friends she had in this town with one hand. “What do you think,” she began, a British lilt accenting her articulation, “is the rain a sign of luck and today is the day I get some ex-lover’s name tattooed on my arse?” 

[hvntertj]

It's Friday, which means later in the evening Magic Ink may or may not receive a too-drunk patron walking in to get inked like it occasionally does — until then, however, there is still a full day ahead, and Hunter is not expecting any visitors at this hour. They lounge behind the reception desk, double-checking next week's bookings on the computer, one leg wildly bouncing along to the Destiny’s Child song blasting from the speakers.

"Hi there, welcome to — Ella! Hey!" exclaims Hunter, the automatic greeting discarded halfway through as they break out into a wide grin reserved for friends. Granted, their definition of friends is pretty lax and includes anyone they have known for more than ten hours, but it is different from the polite, slightly subdued smile they offer to new customers. Jumping to their feet, they dash out to envelop her in a quick hug (though they belatedly run back to the computer to lower the volume of the speakers, so that the two of them don't need to yell at each other over the music like at a goddamn nightclub). It's been a while since her last visit to the studio, and their delight upon seeing Ella's face pop in is very much genuine. Any other person may notice the drastic difference between the two―the older woman clad in expensive fabric and elegant heels; them in a tank top and shorts, exposed limbs adorned in an array of tattoos collected over the years―but Hunter remains blissfully ignorant to the fact that their friendship might appear unusual to an onlooker. 

"How're you doing? Yo, have you finally decided on what to get?" they ask, firing away before the redhead can utter a word. When she does, Hunter responds with a laugh. "As a businessperson, I'd say hell yeah. As a friend, I'd say... Hell yeah, do whatever you want, this is a judgment-free zone. Do it for the irony!"

In all seriousness, however, they hand over their iPad, the portfolio full of previous designs—specializing in blackwork—pulled up on screen for her to flip through. "In case you need inspiration. Anyway, what's up? Here to chat?"

[hvntertj]

me addressing serious topics: yo that's wild

[badlandsrp]

CHARACTER INFORMATION

CHARACTER NAME: Hunter Torres-Jeong

AGE AND D.O.B: Thirty-four, December 2nd, 1985

GENDER: Non-binary

PRONOUNS: They/them, she/her

OCCUPATION: Tattoo artist, owner of Magic Ink

PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Milton Street

LENGTH OF STAY: Nineteen years (growing up), five years (recent)

FACECLAIM: Oh Yeon-seo

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGER WARNINGS: brief mentions of unwanted pregnancy and divorce, mentions of ADHD, ableism

People all make mistakes when they’re young; getting married too soon can be one, unexpected pregnancy can be another. Hunter’s mother had married her high school sweetheart straight out of school, and was only nineteen years old when she gave birth to her baby. It is perhaps a typical story that follows, of brash decisions and long arguments of a young couple who, over time, soberly realized that marriage had been a wrong decision for them. Hunter was three when their parents separated, raised by their father from then on. Fortunately, their paternal grandparents took the two under their wing, babysitting them when their dad―who, as a twentysomething thrust into the role of a single parent, was going through his own struggles as well―could not manage to.

Hunter grew up to be a rambunctious kid with a toothy smile, never coming home without a collection of fresh cuts and bruises from running too fast. They couldn’t sit still, always sprinting off to do whatever he found fascinating, and had trouble paying attention to a single thing for a long period of time. Their father overlooked the problem at first, brushing it aside as something related to their young age and short attention span. Typical kid behavior. Surely they would grow out of it soon. It wasn’t until they entered elementary school that the child was diagnosed with ADHD. With professional help, Hunter and their dad learned to deal with the condition. Meanwhile, Ian Jeong fell in love once more and remarried, and the newly-formed family decided to relocate to Northcreek from Calgary when Hunter was nine. 

School was difficult throughout their teenage years. Their ADHD proved to be a hindrance—not only in their academic performance, but also regarding their personal relationships. There were kids who made jokes about their disorder when they spoke about it; Hunter would laugh along, but their wide grin would fail to reach their eyes. Some claimed in frustration that they were annoying, high maintenance, all over the place, or simply too much. (Or, sometimes, all of the above.) The bullying did not last long, and they tried not to let it bother them, shedding bad memories and taking comfort in newfound friends―but in many ways, they were still that little kid sitting in class wondering what was wrong with their brain. Currently, Hunter is managing the symptoms with medication, though they haven’t been to therapy in a while. 

One flip side of their struggle had been the discovery of an activity that they loved; since their preteen years, playing the drums had remained as a constant hobby in their life. So, deciding that academic life wasn’t the path they wanted for themself, Hunter went on to audition as a drummer for a Vancouver-based indie band after seeing an ad on Craigslist. Soon they moved into a tiny apartment in Vancouver, playing small venues around the city. The band did see moderate success for the next few years. They toured in a couple of different cities and earned enough money to record a short album, selling copies out of their van. After that, however, it quickly became evident that the band wasn’t going anywhere. They weren’t able to get a record deal with a label, and the meagre amount of money from their gigs wasn’t encouraging. They were essentially broke, all of the members having to pick up side jobs to support themselves. Hunter was twenty-five when they first began tattooing―and twenty-nine when they finally stopped being in denial and admitted that their music career was a dead end.

It has been five years since Hunter returned to Northcreek, and Magic Ink has been in business for three. They did have reservations about setting up shop at such a small town, but turns out there are quite a few locals who are tattoo enthusiasts. The shop’s Instagram account has been gaining some traction as well, albeit slowly, and every now and then there are clients who take the time to drive all the way up here to get inked. Overall, things are going well, Hunter thinks. They have no idea where they are headed from here on out, but for them, the future has never been a source of anxiety.

PLAYED BY JADE.

[hvntertj]

say hi to HUNTER TORRES-JEONG ( they/them, she/her ), a 34 Y/O TATTOO ARTIST AND OWNER OF MAGIC INK who has been in town for 5 YEARS (recent).

hello! i’m jade and this is my spunky non-binary babey ! v v excited to plot and write wtih everyone. some bullet points under the cut: 

full bio is here!! 

and their pinterest board for all u aesthetic hoes 

will respond to hunter, hunt, tj

panromantic pansexual 

born in calgary to a young couple that got married WAY too young rip

raised by dad when their parents divorced, moved to northcreek at age 9 when he remarried

hunter was diagnosed with adhd when they were little, and has been managing it with a mix of medication and therapy since! tho they haven’t been to therapy in a while

came back to northcreek when their Indie Band Career didnt work out asldkfsdlf. they were the drummer.

hunter was pretty much broke during that time tbh and had to pick up a side gig?? which was tattooing, and now they’ve got their own business! hell yea

the band was called rocket babies. alsdjkflksdj they did release One (1) album but it flopped 

+ perceptive, down-to-earth, lively, informal, motivated - restless, easily bored, fickle, overprotective, too forgiving

v talkative, honest, enthusiastic, will pour their heart out to complete strangers, overshares, lowkey lets ppl walk over them :/// they kind of... find it difficult to get angry even when they should

kinda talks like a frat bro

big dog person!!! they don’t have one, but if u do they will love ur baby down

can usually be found at Spin Again (they still play the drums as a hobby! omg jam sesh buddies????), Foam and Beans (they tend to stay away from caffeinated drinks bc they get restless, but they do love the whole Vibe), the river or the woods (v outdoorsy!) and, of course, at their tattoo parlor! 

connection ideas: friends/acquaintances, CHILDHOOD CONNECTIONS (best friends who grew apart / stayed in touch, neighbors, family friends, etc etc), exes, old fans of the band alsdkjfsd, one-sided crushes (hoo boy they have these a LOT), ppl who don’t Vibe with them (they can come across as too friendly, which would be kind of off-putting to certain personalities??), current neighbors on milton street, current/past clients of the shop, etc etc. i’m up for anything with mutual character growth and other fun stuff !!!

slam that like button and i will message u on discord!!! 

[zordhyu]

[quoted-books]

I am here. I am in the present tense. I’m not always here, and sometimes here is a very difficult place. Sometimes it is a labyrinth, or a Minotaur, or a rope I can neither let go of nor follow. It’s hard to find the right words, but I guess I would say that it’s something like feeling the floor. And that it is my privilege to feel it.

Meg Howrey, The Cranes Dance (via quoted-books)

[ghostsandgoblins]

[chandlerbings]