On THIS HEDGEHOG

(At the bottom of hillel stairs one night) 

Sophie: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! 

              CYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTT!!!!!!

              SHEEELAAAH! NAZEEEE! LOOK!!!! 

Sheila: Eww gross. What is that. Bye guys, im outta here

On Not Fluffy, Very Serious, BBC Stuff

My housemate Sheila has a younger sister called Mona, too.

Crazy, huh?

Her Mona sent her this. 

And here it is for you, Mona. 

pic:  kiss the paper

On Spongedom

Being in Haifa is like being a sponge. 

Not the thin, sturdy, dense types you mop up spills with, but the big, holey, car-wash types that have more air holes than not. 

Here, your spongey self gets to sit essentially inanimately under a dripping tap. By no will of your own, but by that of your land lord that placed you there. 

So you sit here, under this tap, and you soak up the drip. You simply soak. Up. 

You soak up til you're full. Til you're heavy, and til the holes are no longer gaseous vacuous voids, but little pools of liquid droplets. 

The thing is, the holes will never fill out. The sponge comes with holes. Its just the nature of the sponge. The holes will be holes. Forever. Through weathering and general wear and tear, the holes may in fact become more vacuous over time. But all that does is allows for greater water-holding capacity. 

The sweetest part is, when the holes are filled with water, the sponge's purpose has come into fruition. A sponge is no use dry. But then again, a full, inanimate sponge is a field trip for mould. Filling is only part of the purpose - wringing out is the other. 

By the time you leave this place, you are a full, brimming sponge of great water-yielding capacity. 

Then, its time to wring. 

pic: smosch

On April

Oh, hi there!

 

 

pic: Sartorialist.

 

Geeceeeyyyyyyy

i mith you

On Addiction

Don't be deceived by its sugary pink beauty
The addiction is not so pretty.

On Progression

From wake-up to wind-down.
The characters we play throughout the day.