There is no escape from the slave catcher's songs. For all of the loved ones gone, forever's not so long.
Hello, y’all. I’m back from an exhausting two hours of physical therapy. I’m sore as hell, but I’ve made a new friend (Sarah, a knee-injuree) and I can feel my super-ripped, washboard abs coming in. I’m gonna be so ready for drumline next year.
I named all the food at dinner tonight en français in preparation for the quiz tomorrow. Woooo
I sometimes wish I that I could become an artist when I grow up. Creating art is something magical for me. I feel like I used to be able to draw fairly well (I once drew this sweet-awesome picture of a horse ((I still have it)) ) but now I’m only proficient at doodling. But I guess music could be considered an art form as well, though I don’t write my own songs. I only play others’ music. Maybe I’ll join a band again. Combust revival, anyone?
Better stop procrastinating and get to writing this history summary.
Au revoir,
Zoé
P.S. – Death By Blonde – DeVotchKa (I’m a sucker for instrumentals)
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