But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.


Over a fire of amber coal.

Maybe Mother should get an apartment. It'd sorta be cool.

But then I'd forget if my stuff are here or in the apartment.

Or maybe I should just stop wishing for things that won't ever happen.

e vous aime, mon chéri. Je le veux dire. ♥