Rot Girl
She Finds Life in What's Breaking Down
I find life where things fall apart.
I sit with the softening edges of things — the rust, the rot, the curling petals. I sketch what's being taken back. My pockets hold broken bits that still hum with memory. I don't mourn endings. I lean closer to them.
What I'm Into: faded wallpaper, the hum of beetles, lichen on stone, sketching ruins, damp earth
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