let lemons be angry

My mother: "Well, you have to expect to receive one of these at least once in your lifetime."

I really, really wanted a snow globe when I was a little girl. The only one I eventually had was bought from the World Trade Centre gift shop, with a goofy Christmas Rudolph in it. Many years later I received another one, a small cube with blue glitter, picked up for me from another tourist destination.

But this is a real snow globe. It has that soft, light magic about it, as snow globes always need to have. And it is a musical snow globe, too. It needs to be in a little girl's room, with soft white curtains, a bedside table, a nightlight, and a hairbrush.

A bit of a glitter frenzy actually."Aahh we're caught in a glitter storm! Hurry, k, hurry!" 

K may not get me cult literature or obscure underground labels, or any of those things that might make me appear to be more sophisticated. Instead he gets me things that seem strange to my friends: muji wooden cityscapes, Sylvanian babies, a large blindingly-pink soft toy, a jigsaw puzzle, an ugly hippo lamp, and a snow globe. The mismatch of these items, the odd way they stand out against the dark drawings and Led Zeppelin posters skulking around my room, shows me that this is what I am in his eyes: not very aloof, not very cool, after all. Just a little girl, and he fills the little girl's room with things of once upon a time.