It’s like a strange beautiful habit.

Go on about how it’s beautiful and yet fragile, or how a paper serviette can never die. Or the best one yet – a plant, turned into paper, only to become a plant again.

I just do it and I don’t even know why. I don’t even know what to do with it afterwards. Usually, I would just leave it there and go home, but if someone wants it, I don’t see why not.

This has even been a cause to have someone question my gender, but hey, I can’t even explain why my hands get itchy everytime.

Oh well, it’s just me, I guess. Me enough to be my tumblr.



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