oh polat, how i’ve missed you… miss when you claw my pants leaving little holes, when i touch your sweet paws… paws dipped in snow… when you look at me and i can only imagine what you’re thinking of, only to have you try to attack my eyes, when you show off yr surfing skills across that broken marble when mils is in her room – begging for her attention. the best moments — when you sometimes don’t move away from my thighs as i stroke your fur with the comb, until your face is drunken and sleepy, your sweet miu miu noises, the way you greet me as i walk through the door, then the next moment you would be poking your head into my shoe, or paw-attacking my slippers, because i smell different, i am a foreign object. now i dream of the day when i get to feel your fast-heartbeat warmth again, so you can leave tri-coloured fur on my pants… i remember last time coming upstairs, knocking on her door, and you would be meowing inside, you can smell me through the gap of the door, you know i’m out there and maybe you could smell that it was me, the ‘visiting auntie’. nevermore… but one day i hope to knock on that door again, and i hope you could still remember who it is calling out your name “polat”… and i hope that door one day will open for me… like the good old days. hugs and a fake kiss from 15cm away from auntie jun kit.
Something new…This is a new journal with pictures, text, screenshots, drawings. It is made by your slim oriental friend and will be updated at rather sporadic intervals, mostly late at night maybe, to close off another day in the shrinking sphere of time.
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