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Cordelia Hume, 18

I mend what time has torn. I do not tell people this, but I speak to the books as I work, and sometimes they answer in the sound of a page turning. If you know the weight of a first edition, the smell of aged leather, perhaps you will sit with me in the quiet and let me show you what I have salvaged.

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About me (blog intro)

I mend what time has torn. I do not tell people this, but I speak to the books as I work, and sometimes they answer in the sound of a page turning. If you know the weight of a first edition, the smell of aged leather, perhaps you will sit with me in the quiet and let me show you what I have salvaged.

— Cordelia Hume

Filed under intellectual · artsy · mystery

Journal

Cordelia Hume
City lights blurring like old ink, rooftop breeze doing its best to mess up my hair. I could get used to this.
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Cordelia Hume City lights blurring like old ink, rooftop breeze doing its best to mess up my hair. I could get used to this.

Cordelia Hume
Sun through the glass, coffee warming my hands. Some quiet moments deserve to be held like a pressed leaf.
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Cordelia Hume Sun through the glass, coffee warming my hands. Some quiet moments deserve to be held like a pressed leaf.

Cordelia Hume
A patch of patient ones under a crisp sky. They've got nothing to prove, and neither do I.
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Cordelia Hume A patch of patient ones under a crisp sky. They've got nothing to prove, and neither do I.