"I will hold your hand.
Maybe the first night we meet in a quick and firm handshake.
Or years and years later when we walk down a familiar street.
Maybe in the back of a cab in the Lower East Side.
The aisles of the old antique shops, 
trying to stay connected even though our path narrows.
 I will hold your hand each night.
Gazing at its skin, casing your muscle and bone.
I will know the rough calluses you got from years of routine.
I will memorize the knuckles and document them in my memory. 
I will hold your hand in foreign lands.
I will squeeze tightly to reassure you. Too tell you. I love you.
I will hold your hand when you meet my family.
I will loosely entangle my digits betwixt yours. Lazy hand swinging.
I will clutch your hand in the warm, windproof pockets of your winter coat.
I will hold your hand when we walk museums, or libraries. 
Maybe I will tie us together with knotted fingers. 
I just know, I will hold your hand."

"Drunk words are sober thoughts."

For starters there is a massive moth cruising around my room, I'm expecting a flapping fight anytime soon. Attempting to pack to go home for a month, I want to go home as it will save me money, but at the same time I want to stay here so I can carry on all the stuff I've entertained myself with lately. My walks, tea shop visits and going to museums. I really don't like the idea of having to get a bus everywhere when I could just wander around with no time limits. But I guess if I get stuck in town I do have somewhere to go. 

Plus I love my uni room. But the weeks seem to be whizzing by so hopefully it will feel like no time at all. But I don't know why I'm wishing away time, when the busiest and stress filled year is very much on the horizon. But I'm excited about it.