phrida: (Tom mixingdesk)
This is the kind of day when you curl up on the sofa with your favourite socks and hoodie and a cup of hot chocolate and watch a sappy movie. It's the kind of day when you go to bed early just to listen to the steady pattering of the rain on the roof and the really really mad wind, because it's so loud you just can't avoid hearing it, no matter how loud you blast McFly in the speakers in your room and ABBA in the living room. It's the kind of day where you spend hours on the phone with a friend without really even saying anything, just because you need to know that you're not alone when the treebranches crack outside. It's the kind of day when you get down your Tove Jansson-books from the shelf and re-read Pappan och Havet or Sent i November (Moominpappa at Sea and Moominvalley in November) because they just fit so, so perfectly. (And because the Moomin books will never not be some of the best books ever to be written, so!) It's the kind of day when Not Alone makes you curl up and want to cry, but not from sadness. It's the kind of day when everything inside is dim, and yellow, and soft, and warm, and everything outside is cold, and sharp, and wet, and greyish, and just being home, inside, is safe.

(It's NOT the day to spend hours in the park with the Kid, watching him being totally fascinated by the way the raindrops hit the water in the duckpond. Just saying. /o\)

I was going to make a post that makes more sense - or, you know, makes sense at all -, but. I am in a very weird mood. \o/


phrida: (Default)

November 2008

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