Bemelmans.

Today has been good and not.
Swell.
But not like the swell you're thinking. Not like that classy swell of the gangsters in the 40s who wore two guns tight against their chests and ribs and walked arm-in-arm with the women who had the perfect curls and green dresses under black wool coats.
Just, swell.
Swollen. With everything and nothing at all. Because see, I've been staring at Ludwig Bemelman's illustrations for far too long now, studying for an oral presentation on Thursday, and I can't get over it. I just can't.
I want this so bad. And it's swelling. It's swelling up in my chest and pressing on everything and it hurts and I just want to throw my hands up in the air and be done with everything and start everything. It's killing me inside, how badly I want this. Need this. How much it swells.

Let's see what comes of it.