Going to bed in linen sheets, in a gigantic bed that is only mine, and that I sometimes share with a few books and notepads.
Riding my robins egg-blue bicycle through this mad city. I feel so connected to it. And there is so much I know now about how to care for and love it!
Coming home and listening to Mark Ronson's "The Bike Song," which no longer makes me sad now that I have a bike again.
Drinking peppermint-infused water from my fun but reasonably subtle jungle-themed water bottle, which replaces the one I lost when I slid down the cliff last month. RIP, sweet Zojirushi thermos.
Thumping on my drum, which always kinda makes it feel like something is coming, but actually nothing is coming, I just don't know how to drum in any way besides the one that sounds like a T-Rex is heading toward you.
Reading books on sunny terraces.
Just fucking being in Paris, frankly. It's home. It's a very serious lover. (But I'll also love being back in Italy, and I'll also feel home, etc.)
Ad slave, wordsmith + co-founder of Hurrah and AdVerve (podcast and blog). French-American, Bay Area-born. My mission: Understanding how we make meaning. That seems important.
This is where my personal ditties come to die. To read the pro stuff, visit Muse by Clio.
To engage me in Jedi battle, shoot me a line at angela [dot] natividad [at] gmail [dot] com ... or just follow me on Twitter if you want to keep lurking. (It's okay, I lurk too.)
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