I really like the look of this old printing-press typewriter thingy that we stumbled across in a random dusty barn, but I can't exactly put my finger on why. This feels slightly ironic, given what this device would have been used for back in its hay-day. Yet, the fact that I can't describe something as menial as a bit of "vibey" junk is no surprise really at the moment. It feels hard to put my finger on lots of things. How am I feeling? How has my week been? These used to feel like easier questions to answer. Maybe I'm less attentive. Maybe my ability to utilise adjectives has been seriously depleted by the numbing nature of Netflix. What I can tell you is that I slept the night through for the first time in months last night and I cannot put into words how amazing that feels.
