Dressed like a black cat, ready to pounce on a neighborhood costume party. Drinking sweetened whiskey and dancing around the house while Otis Redding croons to both me and Mooz, who has inspired me in more ways than just this getup.
Montreal is filling up with that wintry air. I didn't wake in time for the ice-slicked streets, only the softened mud mess which followed. Still some flakes fell, and iced over puddles called to my toes for cracking. Watched a little black bag dance awhile in the breezes. Found a spring in my step, and some butterflies stuck inside my rib cage. Setting them free inside this cozy apartment, with every sip and sway. Foggy windows, rosy cheeks, cat's meow/pajamas, etc.
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