Knowing someone and being known is one of the most precious things to me. In the victorian language of flowers ivy can stand for loyalty. And yet, in utter betrayal of my expectation, every ivy I've had didn't respond too well to the dark. It's the sun they sought out. I'd argue everyone has some ivy within themselves. I've recently gone back to university. It's exciting and exhausting and I'm so goddamn happy to be back. I like the timelessness of (twi)light-dark skies and the flitter flatter of leaves in the storm that let's me breathe. I ramble a lot, very sorry in advance.