Journal – Line & Loom

June arrives in Portland the way a held breath finally releases. The rain does not stop so much as forget to come back.

You strike a match. The wick catches. And the room rearranges itself around a single point of light.

Every season starts as a feeling before it becomes a collection. This summer the feeling was night.

Linen wrinkles. This is not a flaw. It is the entire point.

You know the person. Their sunglasses just look right. Not expensive-right. Just settled, like the frames grew there.

There is a temperature at which getting dressed becomes a negotiation. The answer, almost always, is linen.

Ideas for Living