Floral Blouse, Lavender Cardigan: Thrifted.
Navy Pants, Nude Oxfords: Forever21.
Pink Bow Headband: Claire's.
Sleepy Hollow is where it always drizzles a steady and damp mist. The rain soaks the crumpled and dead mud brown leaves on the ground and mud runs through the rivets down into the nearby babbling creek bed. A dark, like the night, black raven swoops and soars above and lets out its cawing cries of longing. Hopeless and desperate. Branches and twigs snap with the gentle and dainty step from creatures within the forest. The tall willows hide the secrets of the woodland and keep its magic hidden from the sight of prying human eyes. Outside the forest Sleepy Hollow sits. Cold and wet. Dreary and filled with souls longing to live. To be free. To be whole. The people walk about like mindless bodies, never caring to lend a helping hand or kind hearted smile. Their hearts as cold as stone and their faces carved from speckled granite. Their faces show beauty, but their hearts show hate. A little girl dreams of breaking free. Of soaring with the birds and tasting air other than the dirty, polluted air filled with despair. This little girl is naive and lonely. Hopeless at times and desperate. She believes there's a place outside of Sleepy Hollow. This girl is me.
With much love, Lauren.
