A mermaid who collects human artifacts, but, like, exclusively objects that humans have dramatically cast into the sea in moments of high emotion, catharsis, or personal revelation. Each item is carefully mounted above a little index card that outlines the circumstances of its hurling in terse, clinical prose.

I carry an art journal around me and sketch portraits of beautiful people and places. I don’t mind if it doesn’t turn out as well as i expected because it’s all just for fun and practice. I drink coffee and sit on the rooftops overlooking paris and i paint everything i see. everything is documented in my journals. Every tiny sketch and quick doodle counts. Even a fleeting stranger can end up in my book of memories. I slowly get better and better with every drawing and as i flip through my journal i can see the progress. I never stop drawing and i treasure my journal forever.

My mind blossoms, filled with books and ideas, and my souls shines, filled with live and kindness.

Me, sitting on top of a grassy mountain, taking deep breaths of fresh, pure air. I lay back and watch the clouds all day. There’s no rush here.

It’s the morning blue hour. You’re taking a walk. There isn’t much sound besides your feet tapping on the asphalt, but sometimes a bird chirps and you feel like twirling in the middle of the street.

You know when you’re in the car and it just finished raining and you pass by colorful LEDs and the raindrops and fog on the window make them all soft and blurry and you feel like you’re suddenly transported to 2056’s cyberpunk cityscape? Yeah!