Winter's setting in, at any rate. The fog rolled in, lazily surrounding the building. When you look out at it, it seems like you should be able to smell the ocean, but you never can...

It's excuse enough to just curl up, though. The fog is reminiscant of nights by fireplaces, coffee in one hand. It's not the best weather, but it's a good excuse to go into fetal position around your blankets.

It looks better at night, when the street lights strain through it. In the day it seems... wrong. I don't know.

I finally bought a pair of boots. Converse just don't cut it in the winter--especially since mine don't even seal in the first place, so even if it RAINS my feet are soaked instantly. These things have heels. These things are rock.

They're Fluvogs. I'd never heard of Fluvogs before Erin told me about them, before Lizzie got a pair with flames across the side. I looked at a different pair of them for a while, a olive green pair of shoes. But I came for boots, and when I tried on the black ones with the tan stripe, they seemed perfect, even if I was sort of hemming towards the ones with spirals to begin with.

Seventh Heaven Soles. Resists "alkalai water, acid fatigue, satan." Walk in peace as angels adorn the treads on the bottom of the boots. Obviously, these boots rock so much, they go back in time and kick your ass in the womb so you're born with an imprint so when you meet me, I have a direct trajectory to KICK YOU AGAIN.

Yes, I have Goebbels outline magic to do. What of it?