Skip to content
I think this page is so romantic. What's sweeter than a shared struggle? What's a more lonesome time than 5:30?
I admit it's hard to remember the feeling Eve is describing. There was a time, though, depressed and consumed by work, where no simulation of order was possible. Only the order of work days and work hours, the pages in a book, the numbers in a bank account. Someone else's order - one that offers no solace from the chaos of nature.