secrets.

brancusci's bird in space

i was talking to my friend.

and he said, "hannah, tell me a secret."

and i said, "i don't have any secrets."

and he said, "sure you do. here's one. i hate the majority of television."

and i said, "i used to wish my nose was smaller but recently i've decided i like it."

and he said, "there you go. to me, secrets are little-known things about a person that help you get to know them better."

so then we told secrets for a long time.

and i decided that i really like that. that secrets are just small facts.

i can only write in my journal with the pilot g-2 pen.

i love it when my eyes look green.

i think i look prettier right before i get ready for bed than any other time of the day.

apples remind me of kindergarten.

i like to own green things.

the ideal present for me would be an art postcard with a genuine love note written on the back.

i drive with the windows down when i'm alone, even if it's freezing.

i take the long way home.

i trust too much.

i feel at home in an art museum.

i had to restrain myself from pointing out a statue in star wars that looked exactly like brancusci's bird in space.

i don't like technology.

i love mail.

i used to sing to dragonflies as a small child.

my mother is my best friend.

and my other best friend is my antithesis. we disagree on a daily basis. and yet, we continue to function.

i know what love is because i know what love isn't.

i own 84 shirts and that fact makes me feel selfish.

i'm a sucker for men who play the saxophone.

and my dad wanted to name me anastasia.

what's your secret?

--hannah